Part 2

Maya’s voice stayed low.

“Why am I being questioned after I already showed you my ticket, my ID, and my reservation?”

The flight attendant didn’t answer.

Captain Arrington did.

“Because my crew has concerns.”

“Concerns about what?”

He didn’t say it.

He didn’t have to.

The cabin already understood.

Maya nodded once.

Slow.

“I see.”

She reached into the seat pocket.

Not for her phone.

For a thin black folder.

The captain’s eyes dropped to it.

“What’s that?”

“Something you should have asked for before you threatened to arrest a pᴀssenger who already complied.”

She opened the folder.

Inside was a single sheet.

Printed.

Official.

Her name at the top.

Maya Washington.

тιтle beneath it.

Chief Executive Officer.

Northstar Aviation Group.

The holding company that owned the airline he was standing on.

The flight attendant’s arms unfolded.

The man with the phone stopped recording for half a second, then started again.

Captain Arrington read the page twice.

His finger, still raised, slowly lowered.

“That doesn’t change—”

“It changes the chain of command,” Maya said.

She closed the folder.

“You are the captain of this aircraft. On the ground, before pushback, you report to operations. Operations reports to the airline. The airline reports to Northstar.”

She looked at him.

“Which means, right now, you are threatening to have your employer removed from her own plane.”

A woman in 3C whispered, “Oh my God.”

The captain’s jaw worked.

Nothing came out.

Maya turned to the flight attendant.

“You asked where I bought the ticket. Direct from corporate travel. You asked if I was alone. I am. You asked for proof of payment. The reservation is billed to the executive office. You asked why my name didn’t look familiar.”

She paused.

“Because I don’t fly commercial under a press release.”

The intercom crackled.

Gate control.

“Flight 418, we show a delay on your door. Confirm status.”

Nobody moved.

Captain Arrington stared at the folder.

Then at her.

The authority in his posture had cracked.

Not gone.

Cracked.

Maya sat back in 2A.

She did not raise her voice.

“You have two choices, Captain.”

The cabin went quieter than the seat belt chime.

“You can call operations, confirm who I am, and we can talk about why your crew decided a valid first-class pᴀssenger needed to be removed.”

She met his eyes.

“Or you can keep going.”

Her hand rested on the folder.

“And find out what happens when the person you tried to have arrested is the one who signs the review of this flight.”

The captain didn’t speak.

The flight attendant took one step back.

And somewhere in row four, a phone camera light stayed on.