Chapter 6 - Gate B14The Boeing 777 ground to a complete halt at Gate B14, the seatbelt signs chiming in unison across the cabin. Passengers began unbuckling, murmuring among themselves, completely unaware of the high-stakes corporate drama that had just played out under their noses.
Claire walked up from economy, her steps measured and confident, stopping right beside me in the first-class aisle.
She looked down at Grant, who was still struggling to pick himself up off the carpet, brushing dust off his expensive suit with shaking hands.
"You really thought you could own me, Grant?" Claire asked, her voice steady, clear, and devoid of fear. "You thought because my father died, I had no one left to protect me?"
Grant sneered, blood trickling from a small scratch on his chin. "You think this trucker is your savior, Claire? He’s nothing. He’ll go back to his dirt roads and broken-down trucks tomorrow, and you’ll still be trapped by your family's legacy."
"He’s not my husband," Claire said softly, sliding the silver ring off her finger and holding it up. "And this wedding was a fake. But he showed up when I had nobody else. And you... you’re going to federal prison."
The heavy cabin door hissed open, and the jet bridge attached with a metallic clunk.
Two men in dark suits with federal credentials clipped to their belts stepped into the aircraft cabin, flanked by local airport police officers. They walked straight past the staring passengers, coming to a halt right in front of row three.
"Grant Sterling?" the lead federal agent asked, flashing a badge.
Grant didn't answer. He just stared blankly at the silver cuffs the agent pulled from his belt.
Within seconds, Grant was handcuffed, his arms pulled behind his back, and escorted out of the plane through the jet bridge. The remaining passengers in first class watched in stunned silence, whispering behind their hands as the digital screens captured a corporate titan being led away in irons.
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Claire watched him go, letting out a long, shuddering breath that felt like shedding a ten-year-old coat of lead.
Evelyn turned to us, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked at Claire, then looked directly at me.
