738 "My husband boarded my flight to Madrid with another woman on his arm, wearing a $12,000 necklace he'd bought with our company's money. He expected me to make a scene when he saw me at the door. Instead, I smiled, showed him to seat 2A, and waited until we reached 30,000 feet to start destroying the secret life he'd built behind my back.

Two hours before landing.

The first rays of the dawn sun began to bleed across the eastern horizon, painting the clouds below in shades of brilliant rose, deep gold, and violet. The cabin lights were gently raised for the breakfast service.

I pushed the heavy stainless-steel trolley into the first-class aisle, my Purser smile firmly back in place.

When I reached seat 2A, Julian looked like a ghost of the man who had boarded the plane in New York. His hair was messy, his eyes bloodshot, and he was repeatedly tapping his tablet, growing more infuriated as the screen refused to connect to the internet.

"Breakfast service, Julian?" I asked brightly, pulling back the crisp white linen cloth covering the tray. "We have fresh croissants, seasonal berries, and poached eggs."

Chloe looked up, her face pale and stressed. "Julian, my card isn't working," she whispered frantically, holding up her sleek black corporate card. "I tried to buy the inflight luxury boutique package ten minutes ago, and the system said the account was terminated!"

Julian snapped, turning his glare onto me. "What did you do, Clara?!" he yelled, forgetting entirely that there were eight other high-net-worth passengers sleeping in the cabin. "What did you do to my accounts?!"

A businessman in seat 3F sat up, rubbing his eyes, looking annoyed.

"Sir, please keep your voice down," I said, my tone crisp, professional, and entirely devoid of panic. "You are disturbing the other passengers."

"Don't tell me to keep my voice down!" Julian shouted, standing up from his seat, his towering frame imposing over the aisle. "I own Mercer-Hayes Logistics! I pay your salary! I want the inflight Wi-Fi restored right now, and I want you out of my sight!"

I didn't move an inch. I didn't raise my voice. I simply picked up a crystal tumbler of iced water from my trolley.

"Julian," I said softly, looking him dead in the eyes. "You don't own Mercer-Hayes. You were removed as CEO two hours ago by a unanimous vote of the board. Your shares are seized, your accounts are frozen, and your credit cards are plastic garbage."

The entire cabin went dead silent. Chloe gasped, her eyes widening in sheer terror as she looked at Julian.

"You're lying!" Julian screamed, his composure completely disintegrating. "You can't do that! You're just a flight attendant!"

"I am the Chief Financial Officer and majority shareholder," I corrected smoothly. "And as of 04:00 GMT, I am the CEO."

Julian reached out, grabbing the collar of my uniform in a moment of pure, unbridled rage. "You ruined me! You worthless, scheming—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Marcus and two male flight attendants stepped through the curtain, grabbing Julian’s arms and wrenching him away from me.

"Hands off the crew, sir!" Marcus barked, forcing Julian back into seat 2A. "Restrain yourself immediately, or we will apply flex-cuffs for the remainder of the flight!"

Julian thrashing against their grip, panting like a wild animal, his eyes wild with terror and disbelief. Chloe shrank back into seat 2B, pulling her designer coat around herself, terrified, realizing instantly that her golden ticket had just turned into a nuclear warzone.