The gate agent glanced at me.

Her eyes paused on my last name.

Maybe she recognized more than that.

I gave her the slightest shake of my head.

Not yet.

So I carried their bags.

I lifted Patricia’s coat into the overhead compartment.

Made sure Mason’s tuxedo bag lay flat so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

And smiled when Patricia loudly told another passenger,

“Nora has always been very useful when expectations are realistic.”

Then I walked back to seat 31B.

No one noticed the small silver aviation emblem inside my passport wallet.

No one noticed the message glowing on my phone.

**Bennett Aero Holdings: Board confirmed. Authority transfer effective immediately.**

And no one sitting in first class understood that the airline they were mocking me on had just come under my control.

The woman in 31A handed me a tissue before I even realized my hands were shaking.

“Family?” she asked.

“Unfortunately.”

She gave me a sad smile.

“They always know exactly where to hurt you.”

I looked toward the curtain separating us from first class.

Patricia’s laughter floated back.

After my mother died, Patricia married my father within ten months.

Then she slowly rearranged everything.

The house.

The holidays.

The family story.

My mother’s photographs disappeared into storage.

 

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