The captain called Ethan on the interphone and asked for an updated account of the meal. Ethan repeated that the passenger had refused reasonable alternatives. "Did the alternative contain peanuts?"
Mallerie asked. There was a pause. "It was a standard snack packet," Ethan said. "Did she tell you she had a peanut allergy?" Another pause followed, longer this time. Mallerie looked toward the closed cockpit door and regretted every opportunity he had passed up to ask that question earlier.
"Preserve the service records," he said. "And do not discard any packaging connected to the meal." Ethan told him he understood. When the call ended, he stared at Clare. "Where's the tray?" Clare said it had been cleared into the galley cart.
"Do not touch it again," Ethan told her. She looked toward the passengers and whispered, "What happens when we land?" Ethan did not answer.
Maya's phone buzzed again. Naomi was calling through the in-flight connection, but Maya declined and typed a message instead. Serious incident aboard Crestline Flight 608. I am stable for now. Preserve all Williams Meridian and Crestline contract communications.
Do not contact Crestline until I speak to you. Naomi replied so quickly that Maya knew she had been watching her phone. ARE YOU THE WOMAN IN THAT VIDEO?
Maya looked at the screen for several seconds before typing yes. A second message appeared. I'M GETTING LEGAL ON STANDBY. ARE YOU SAFE? Maya looked at the nearly empty juice box, the peanut packet, the stain on her cuff, and the paper bearing her name.
For now, she wrote. Then she added something Naomi would understand better than almost anyone. They still do not know who I am.
Naomi's answer came after a brief pause. Then let them finish choosing. Maya closed her eyes. The sentence did not make her feel triumphant. It reminded her of the purpose of the contract waiting in New York: the airline needed to be accountable even when the passenger harmed was nobody the leadership recognized. Revealing her identity in the cabin might have protected her personally, but it would not answer the more important question of what the institution did when it believed there were no consequences.
Victoria's phone began ringing more insistently. A foundation donor wanted to know whether she had used her status to take food from a woman with a medical condition. Her husband's office had seen the video and was asking her not to make public statements. A friend sent a screenshot of the caption on a news account, which described a wealthy frequent flyer eating a medically restricted passenger's meal. Victoria began composing a reply, then deleted it when she realized every sentence sounded worse than the last.
She turned toward Maya. "You have no idea what damage this can do," she whispered. Maya looked at her calmly. "I know what damage feels like. I spent most of this flight trying to explain it."
Victoria's voice trembled with contained anger. "I built institutions. I've funded scholarships, hospitals, programs for children." Samuel leaned forward. "Those are good things. They don't purchase the right to mistreat a stranger."