Chapter 1
I smoothed my apron and walked out. Seated in 2D was Arthur Sterling, a man with silver hair and the kind of quiet, absolute wealth that didn’t require logos. Arthur was the CEO of Sterling Vanguard. He was also the man Adam had been desperately trying to court for a ten-million-dollar seed investment. Adam had spent the last year projecting the image of a devoted family man specifically because Arthur was famously old-fashioned and refused to do business with people he deemed “morally bankrupt.”
“Mr. Sterling,” I said, offering a warm, genuine smile. “Can I bring you another sparkling water?”
“Please, Dakota,” Arthur smiled back. We had flown together before; I always remembered his preferences.
Across the aisle, Adam’s head whipped around at the sound of Arthur’s name. His eyes met Arthur’s, and the sheer panic in Adam’s expression was palpable.
“Adam?” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. “I didn’t know you were heading to Florence. I thought you were locked in meetings in Tennessee this week?”
Adam swallowed hard. “Arthur. Hello. Yes, well, a last-minute opportunity arose.”
Arthur looked at Trinity, expecting an introduction. Trinity sat up straighter, putting on her best professional smile.
Before Adam could formulate a lie, I seamlessly intervened. “I believe this is Mr. Gibson’s new public relations assistant,” I said brightly, refilling Arthur’s glass. “It’s so wonderful to see executives mentoring young staff on international trips.”
Trinity’s jaw clenched. Assistant. To a high-end PR consultant, it was a venomous insult. But she couldn’t correct me without exposing the affair to Arthur Sterling.
Adam laughed nervously. “Yes, exactly. PR research.”
“Fascinating,” Arthur murmured, though his eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the tension.
I retreated to the galley. The first phase was complete. Adam was now socially paralyzed. If he fought with Trinity, Arthur would hear. If he fought with me, Arthur would hear.
A few minutes later, I saw Adam desperately trying to appease Trinity. He pulled out the in-flight duty-free catalog, pointing to a five-thousand-dollar Cartier watch. She crossed her arms, refusing to look at it, but he flagged down my junior attendant, Sarah.
I watched from the shadows as Adam confidently handed Sarah his sleek, metal Centurion card.
Sarah swiped it on the portable tablet. It beeped a flat, red denial.
She tried again. Beep.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Sarah said, pitching her voice politely. “It seems your card has been declined.”
Adam scoffed, his ego bruising in real-time. “That’s impossible. Run it again. It has no limit.”
“I’ve run it twice, sir,” Sarah insisted softly. “Perhaps the bank placed a travel hold?”
Trinity rolled her eyes, her disgust mounting. Adam snatched the card back, his face burning red.
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll connect to the Wi-Fi and clear it.”
This was the moment I had been waiting for.
I watched Adam punch in his credit card details to purchase the exorbitant in-flight Wi-Fi package. I saw the exact moment the connection established. He opened his banking app.
Even from twenty feet away, I could see the shift in his posture. His shoulders collapsed. His hands began to shake.
While he had been busy buying Trinity champagne in the airport lounge, my lawyers had filed the emergency injunctions. The forensic audit I had quietly initiated weeks ago was now in the hands of the authorities.
Adam stared at his phone screen. His joint checking account: $0.00. Frozen. His savings account: $0.00. Frozen. The corporate expense account: Restricted Access. Under Legal Review.
A notification popped up on his screen. Then another. And another. Emails from his accountant. Urgent texts from his business partner.
I walked slowly down the aisle with a basket of warm artisan bread. I stopped right beside his seat.
“Is everything alright with the Wi-Fi, Mr. Gibson?” I asked, my voice a soft purr. “Sometimes, connections get completely severed without warning. It can be quite devastating if you aren’t prepared.”
Adam looked up at me. His arrogant façade was entirely gone. In its place was stark, unadulterated terror.
“What did you do?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
May you like
What I had to, I thought, but I only offered him a polite smile and held out the silver tongs.
“Would you care for a roll?”
