Chapter 7 - Gate E-12
The chime rang twice—the signal from the cockpit that the aircraft was safely parked and the engines were shut down.
I unbuckled my harness, stood up, and opened the primary exit door, guiding the heavy lever upward. The pneumatics hissed loudly, and the door swung outward, locking securely against the exterior fuselage. The jet bridge docked with a soft thud.
The first person to step across the threshold wasn't a ground crew member or an airline agent.
It was Inspector Javier Morales of the Guardia Civil, flanked by two armed officers and a representative from the U.S. Embassy.
"Purser Clara Hayes?" Inspector Morales asked in crisp, accented English, touching the brim of his cap.
"Yes, Inspector," I said, stepping aside. "Thank you for your prompt response."
"We have the federal arrest warrants issued by the Southern District of New York," Morales said, holding up a official document stamped with seal of the court. "Where is the suspect?"
"Seat 2A," I pointed toward the first-class cabin.
The officers moved past me with practiced speed. Within seconds, the quiet luxury of the cabin was broken by the sound of heavy boots, metal handcuffs clicking shut, and Julian’s final, desperate protest.
"You can't do this! I’m an American citizen! I demand to see my ambassador!" Julian yelled as he was dragged out of his seat, his hands pinned behind his back.
The officers marched him down the aisle toward the exit door. As Julian reached the threshold, he stopped, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine with an unbelievable mixture of hatred, sorrow, and bitter regret.
"Clara... please," he choked out, his voice cracking, shedding real tears for the first time. "We can fix this. Talk to them. We built that company together... don't destroy me like this!"
I stepped toward him, standing tall in my navy uniform, my expression serene and untouchable.
"We built it together, Julian," I said, my voice carrying clearly over the sound of the idling airport equipment. "But you decided to tear it down for a fake life with cheap gold and stolen money. I didn't destroy you. You destroyed yourself."
Inspector Morales placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder, shoving him forward onto the jet bridge. "Muévalo," he ordered.
May you like
Julian was dragged away, his shoes dragging against the carpet of the jet bridge, his frantic cries fading into the noise of the bustling terminal.
Behind him, Chloe was escorted off by two female officers, sobbing hysterically into her hands, her luxury coat trailing behind her like a pathetic flag of surrender.
