"Call operations control and tell them the woman who owns this jet is replacing its captain," Nyra commanded quietly, every single word landing like a hammer driving a final nail into a coffin. "Initiate emergency protocol override alpha-zero-nine. Ground Captain Thomas Miller’s credentials globally, revoke his flight license with the civil aviation authority, and have a replacement pilot dispatched to meet our arrival gate immediately. He is terminated before the landing gear even touches the tarmac."
"Understood, Ms. Vance! Executing protocol immediately. The authorities and terminal management have been notified of your directives," the operator replied, voice shaking with absolute urgency.
Nyra ended the call with a gentle tap of her thumb. She locked the screen, slid the phone back into her pocket, and adjusted her gold necklace. She looked at her reflection in the dark, polished wood of the cabin wall—calm, collected, and utterly untouchable. Up front, the captain was still flying a plane he thought he ruled, completely unaware that the ground beneath his feet—and the sky above his head—had just been swept entirely away.