Lena checked the first video. It had passed two million views. She leaned toward Maya and spoke softly so the other passengers would not turn the moment into a spectacle. "It's getting attention from national news accounts."
Maya closed her eyes for a second. She had spent three years trying to teach corporations that numbers represented people. Now millions of people were watching a number attached to her own pain.
Ethan stopped at 1B before taking his jump seat. "When we land, remain seated until you are instructed to leave," he said. Maya looked up. "Will the police be there?"
He hesitated. "This could have been resolved quietly." Maya held his gaze. "It should have been resolved correctly." He moved away without answering the question.
The wheels lowered beneath them with a mechanical groan. Beyond the window, runway lights stretched toward the horizon. Maya adjusted her seat belt and placed the printed confirmation securely in her bag. Her body was steadier, though fatigue sat behind her eyes. Lena checked that she had her medical supplies within reach and then fastened her own belt. They had done everything they could until the plane was on the ground.
Flight 608 touched down at John F. Kennedy International Airport shortly after midnight. The wheels struck the runway, and the airplane shuddered once before slowing. No one in first class applauded. Phones lit up almost immediately, the screens illuminating tired faces with the same message in different forms: someone had watched the video, someone wanted an explanation, and someone higher in Crestline's organization had finally begun asking questions.
A crew message appeared on Clare's device before the aircraft reached the gate. ALL FLIGHT 608 CABIN PERSONNEL TO REMAIN AVAILABLE FOR CORPORATE SECURITY. PRESERVE REPORTS, SERVICE RECORDS, AND DEVICE COMMUNICATIONS. She read it twice, her hands shaking. Ethan received the same notice and turned his tablet face down.
Captain Mallerie remained in the cockpit longer than usual, staring at the list of questions sent by operations. They were the questions Maya had asked at the gate.
The airplane rolled slowly toward the terminal. Maya looked out at the white-blue lights moving across the wet pavement and felt no victory. She wanted a proper meal, a medical evaluation if needed, and a few hours of sleep. She wanted the board meeting to be about the contract she had worked so hard to build rather than about how the airline had treated her on the way there. But the night had changed the questions that meeting would have to answer, and Maya knew she could not pretend otherwise.
At the gate, the aircraft stopped with a soft jolt. The seat-belt sign went dark, and the familiar clatter of opening overhead bins began behind the curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane. Maya did not stand. Lena watched her for a few seconds and asked her to wait until the aisle was clear before rising. "You've had a stressful flight and haven't eaten properly," she said. "There's no reason to make yourself dizzy just because everyone else is in a hurry."