“No.
But I saw the hand.”
“That proves nothing,” she said.
“Half the women in this industry wear silver jewelry.”
“Maybe,” I replied.
“But your ring has a fresh scratch, and the clasp has the same curve.”
She laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“I work on an aircraft.
Metal gets scratched.”
Alexander examined the latch more closely.
A thin silver streak clung to the edge of the black clasp.
He did not comment on it.
Instead, he asked the question that had been bothering me since I woke up.
“Why was the cabin empty when she boarded?”
The flight attendant’s face tightened.
“I was conducting the exterior safety inspection.”
“And the chef?”
“In the service vehicle.”
“Why was the door open?”
“The ground crew had not completed loading.”
Alexander looked toward the chef, who stood beside the locked cockpit door.
The chef swallowed.
“She told me you wanted the cabin cleared, sir.
She said you had a confidential call before departure.”
Alexander returned his gaze to the flight attendant.
“I never gave that instruction.”
She lifted her chin.
“Then there was a misunderstanding.”
“No,” I said.
“There was an opportunity.”
Her stare sharpened.
I continued before fear could silence me.
“If the cabin had been staffed, someone would have stopped me at the door.
If the door had been closed, I would have realized I was in the wrong place.
Whoever left everything open needed me to walk inside without being questioned.”
Alexander’s tablet chimed on the table.
No one moved.
He picked it up and studied the network report.
I could not read the screen from my seat, but I watched his jaw become rigid.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“The first login attempt came from the jet’s encrypted network eighteen minutes after takeoff,” he said.
“The account required a physical authorization token within range of the cabin router.”
I looked at the briefcase.
“So whoever accessed the accounts needed this case on the plane.”
“Yes.”
The flight attendant shook her head.
“And she brought it aboard.”
“Because someone placed it beside my luggage.”
“You expect us to believe you grabbed a billionaire’s security case by accident and then happened to discover the real thief?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
The words surprised even me.
Until that moment, I had spent most of my life trying to sound harmless.
Nannies were expected to be patient when parents arrived late, grateful when schedules changed without warning, and invisible inside homes filled with things we could never afford.
The flight attendant had seen my worn shoes and tired face and assumed I would apologize until someone placed handcuffs on me.
I was done apologizing.
Alexander scrolled through the report.
