Chapter 2 - The Fall From Seat 2A
The tension inside the First Class cabin was so thick you could slice it with a butter knife. The flight attendants, who had earlier watched Patricia treat them like indentured servants, now stood at attention, ready to execute whatever I asked. Patricia clung to her leather armrests as if anchoring herself against a hurricane. Her smug arrogance was gone, replaced by a frantic, darting panic.
“Nora, darling,” she stammered, her voice pitching up an entire octave. “You... you must be joking. Your father and I—we had no idea you were involved in aviation! Why didn't you mention it? We would have celebrated! Mason, tell your sister how proud we are!”
Mason swallowed hard, unable to look me in the eye. His fiancée shrank back into her seat, discreetly sliding her phone into her purse so she wouldn’t be caught recording anymore.
“You didn’t ask, Patricia,” I replied, looking directly down at her. “You were too busy calculating how much my mother’s passing had ruined me. You assumed when I liquidated my mother’s commercial real estate portfolio two years ago, I was broke. You never bothered to check where that capital went. My mother’s family founded Bennett Aero decades before you married my father. When she died, her voting shares went into a blind trust until my thirtieth birthday. That birthday was yesterday.”
My father finally found his voice. “Nora... you should have told me. I’m your father.”
“You are,” I said, turning to him with an icy smile. “And yet, twenty minutes ago at the gate, you watched your wife force me to drag five heavy bags while mocking my dead mother’s memory, and you said nothing. You thought giving me Seat 31B was a fitting punishment for not kissing Patricia’s ring.”
I turned to the lead flight attendant, Sarah, who was observing the scene with quiet satisfaction. “Sarah, I believe my stepmother made an insightful point at check-in. She said First Class is strictly reserved for people who actually contribute. Since Patricia and Mason are traveling entirely on family allowances they haven't earned, I believe they would benefit from the character-building experience of the main cabin.”
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Patricia gasped. “You can’t do that! We paid for these tickets!”
“Actually, Patricia, you charged them to my father’s corporate card—an account underwritten by Bennett Aero’s commercial credit line,” I said coolly. “Sarah, please take Ms. Patricia and Mr. Mason back to rows 31 and 32. I will be taking seat 2A. And please ensure their heavy baggage remains right under their feet.”
