The Owner in Seat 1A: How a Business Class Karen Tried to Remove the Real Owner From Her Own Flight

Chapter 3

Theme:
Font Size:
24px
I felt heat creeping up the back of my neck.
"Ms. Sterling," I said, keeping my tone as level as ice, "every passenger in this cabin holds a valid ticket. If you're dissatisfied with your beverage, I would be happy to chill another glass for you immediately."
"A valid ticket?" Vanessa laughed—a sharp, rattling sound that lacked any trace of humor. "Look at her, Nathan. She’s wearing boots that belong in a drainage ditch. She hasn't touched the entertainment screen. She hasn't taken off that hideous coat. She probably stole someone’s mileage voucher off an internet forum."
The woman in 2A still hadn't moved.
Her posture was impossibly upright, her back barely touching the contoured headrest of the premium leather seat.
Her hands rested flat against the knees of her worn denim jeans.
I looked down and noticed a detail that made my chest tighten with a strange, inexplicable instinct: her right thumbnail had a small, clean horizontal scar across the base, and on her wrist, partially hidden beneath the frayed cuff of her jacket, was an old, scratched mechanical watch.
It wasn't a Rolex, or an Omega, or any luxury brand I recognized from the glossy airport boutiques.
It was an old, heavy stainless-steel aviator’s chronograph, its bezel worn completely smooth by time, mounted on a faded olive-drab nylon strap.
"Ma'am?" I said softly, leaning down slightly toward 2A so I wouldn't invade her personal space. "Can I bring you something to drink? A warm towel? We have fresh coffee, herbal tea, or sparkling water."
For the first time in an hour, the quiet woman turned her head toward me.
Her eyes were an extraordinary, dark amber—so clear and remarkably sharp that I felt an immediate, involuntary urge to stand up straighter, the way you do when a senior training inspector walks onto an audit flight.
"Hot water with lemon, please, Nathan," she said.
Her voice was low, smooth, and possessed a gravelly warmth that sounded like it had spent years giving orders in windy rooms.
"Nothing else?" I asked.
"That will be plenty. Thank you."

News in the same category

The Owner in Seat 1A: How a Business Class Karen Tried to Remove the Real Owner From Her Own Flight

10 Part