Marcus exploded. "You clumsy oaf! Are you an idiot? This is a $4,000 suit! You could have ruined it! Get me your superior, now!"
Ben froze, his face ashen. "Sir, I'm so sorry. It was just water—"
"Now!" Marcus roared.
The cabin, which had been a cocoon of privacy, was suddenly on high alert. The other four passengers—a Japanese businessman, an elderly British couple—all had their doors open. They were watching.
Evelyn Shaw, the purser, rushed over, her face a mask of practiced calm. "Sir, what seems to be the problem?"
"Your boy here," Marcus spat, "is incompetent. He nearly soaked me! I want him out of this cabin! Get him out of my sight! He can go serve the animals in economy where he belongs!"
This, Seraphina thought, was the moment. This was where Evelyn was required by company policy to defend her crew and de-escalate the passenger. The policy was clear: AuraJet maintains a zero-tolerance policy for abuse toward its staff.
Seraphina watched, waiting.
Evelyn looked at Ben's terrified face, then at Marcus's purple, enraged one. "Ben," Evelyn said, her voice tight. "Go to the galley. Assist with the main cabin prep. I will handle first-class service for Mr. Thorne."
Ben looked crushed. "Evelyn, I—"
"Go. Now."
Ben nodded, his shoulders slumped, and fled the cabin.
Seraphina's fingers flew across her phone:
9:30 p.m. M. Thorne: abusive conduct toward FA B. Carter. Purser E. Shaw failed to defend staff, ceded to abusive passenger demands, removed FA from his station. Catastrophic leadership failure.
Evelyn turned back to Marcus, her smile now verging on desperate. "Mr. Thorne, I do apologize. Your next course is coming right up. And of course, a fresh bottle of the Montrachet. On the house."
"It's already on the house, woman," Marcus sneered. "It's first class."
"Of course, sir," Evelyn said, bowing her head and retreating.
Seraphina had seen enough. This was no longer a review; it was an intervention. She pressed the call button.
Evelyn appeared a moment later, her composure barely holding. "Yes, Ms. Jordan?"
"Evelyn," Seraphina said, her voice low but carrying. "I'd like to see the passenger conduct report forms, please, and the captain's incident log."
Evelyn's blood ran cold. This was not a request a normal passenger made—ever. "Ma'am, those are internal documents. I'm not permitted to—"
"You're not permitted, or you haven't started one?" Seraphina asked.
Before Evelyn could answer, Marcus leaned out of his suite, having heard the exchange. "Trouble in paradise, sweetheart? Are they not treating you right? Maybe they ran out of ginger ale!" He laughed, and Chloe joined in. "Maybe she wants to file a complaint that the seat is too big!"
Seraphina ignored him, her eyes locked on Evelyn. "You are the lead purser on this flight. You have a passenger in 1C who has, in the last two hours, violated three separate AuraJet carriage policies. He has been racially abusive. He has verbally assaulted a member of your crew, and he has created a hostile environment for every other passenger. Your response was to punish your crew member and offer the aggressor more champagne. Explain your reasoning."
The entire cabin went dead silent. The only sound was the roar of the engines. Evelyn's jaw worked, but no sound came out.
Marcus stood up. "Now you listen here," he said, stepping into the aisle. "Who in the hell do you think you are? You're a passenger—a very lucky one, at that! You don't get to review the staff! You don't get to question me! You sit there, drink your little soda, and be quiet!" He took a step toward her suite. "In fact, I'm tired of looking at you. Evelyn, I want her moved. Put her in the back. I don't care. Get her out of first class!"
Seraphina looked at the man standing in the aisle, his face puffed with arrogance and alcohol. She looked at the purser, paralyzed by indecision.
"Evelyn," Seraphina said, her voice now edged with steel. "A moment ago, Mr. Thorne suggested I was a monkey. Just now, he ordered you to remove me from a seat I paid for. I am a Black woman, and your passenger in 1C is a racist bully. This is a Code 3 passenger conduct violation, and it requires you to notify the captain immediately. Why have you not done so?"
Evelyn stammered. "Ms. Jordan, it's... it's a delicate situation. Mr. Thorne is one of our... our top-tier flyers."
"He's a top-tier bigot is what he is," Seraphina said.
This broke Marcus. "You... you bitch!" he yelled. "You call me a racist? You, with your chip on your shoulder, who probably scammed your way in here? You're the problem! People like you!" He was fully in the aisle, looming.
Seraphina didn't flinch. She simply raised her phone. "Evelyn," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "Get the captain, or I will, using the satellite phone. My access code is Alpha Juliet 001."
The change in Evelyn Shaw was instantaneous and absolute: it was as if she had been struck by lightning. Her face, which had been pale with panic, turned a chalky, bloodless white. Her body went rigid.
Alpha Juliet 001.