Chapter 7 - The Conductor's Ultimatum
"Mr. Kevin Vance?" the conductor barked, looking directly at Kevin with cold, unforgiving eyes.
"Yes? What is it?" Kevin asked, standing up defensively, trying to project an air of privileged authority. "If this is about the heating in the coach cars, I already told you my wife is handling—"
"This isn't about the coach cars," the conductor interrupted sharply. "This is about your reservation status. Corporate headquarters just flagged your ticket authorization codes. Your billing method has been instantly revoked and marked as fraudulent by the primary account holder."
Kevin’s jaw went slack. "Fraudulent? That's impossible! That's my personal business account tied to—"
"It's tied to an emergency asset freeze authorized by David Vance and co-signed by your financial partners," the conductor cut him off, holding up his tablet. "Furthermore, your return trip passes have been completely canceled. Effective at the next major junction in Chicago, you and your companion are required to vacate this first-class sleeper compartment immediately."
Mia dropped her coffee mug, the hot dark liquid splashing wildly across the carpet. "Vacate?! Are you out of your mind? Do you know who we are? My husband is David Vance, and—"
"And Mr. David Vance personally called our dispatch office forty minutes ago," the conductor said smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "He instructed us to inform you that your marriage, your credit cards, and your welcome back into the family are all officially terminated. You're riding the rest of this train out in coach, folks. Grab your coats."
The cabin air suddenly felt ten degrees colder than the blizzard outside. Kevin stared at the conductor in absolute, unadulterated horror, the realization hitting him like a freight train.
Emily hadn't stayed in the coach car. Emily hadn't bought sandwiches. Emily had gone straight home—and she had taken the nuclear codes with her.
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"Wait," Kevin stammered, grabbing his jacket with trembling hands. "There’s been a massive mistake. Let me use your satellite phone. I need to call my wife—"
"Your wife is currently sitting by a roaring fireplace in a luxury mansion, drinking champagne with your brother," the conductor replied coldly, sliding the cabin door shut with a definitive thud. "Move along."
