My stepmother thought I was br0ke, so she treated me like her personal baggage handler and laughed as she sent me to Economy. Then the aircraft stopped taxiing, and the captain came looking for me.

Mason lost his promotion.

His fiancée left.

And the doors my mother’s name had once opened for him quietly closed.

My father sent letters.

I never answered them.

I spent that winter rebuilding Silverline with people I trusted.

And whenever I flew after that, I carried my own bag.

Not because anyone expected me to.

Because peace feels a lot lighter when no one else thinks they own your hands.

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