The show must go on. The business deal must be completed. The world kept turning, indifferent to her humiliation. "Proce with departure, Captain," she said, her voice steady. Despite everything, the engine spooled up, that distinctive wine of jet turbines building power.
The aircraft began to move, rolling smoothly out of the hanger. Through the window, Diane could see the ground crew, including Brian, watching the plane taxi past. She wondered if they realized who had been standing in that hanger, who they had treated like an intruder. She wondered if they cared. The Gulfream climbed through 30,000 ft.
Atlanta falling away beneath them. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere remained strained. Captain Richard's voice had been professional but subdued during the safety announcements. Jennifer and the other flight attendant, a younger woman named Amy, moved through their duties with unusual quietness. Diane opened her laptop, determined to focus on the Nexus systems presentation.
Numbers swam before her eyes, meaningless. She tried to review the financial projections, the integration timelines, the synergy analyses. Nothing penetrated. Her mind kept replaying the morning, each moment of doubt and dismissal cutting fresh. Her phone chimed.
An email from Robert Chen with four attachments. Termination letters as requested, ready to send on your word. Call me if you want to talk. Diane downloaded the letters, reading through each one. They were professional, legally precise, citing violation of company non-discrimination policies and failure to maintain professional standards expected of Cooper Technologies representatives.
There was no anger in the language, just cold corporate finality. She looked at the send button, her finger hovering. Was she doing the right thing? Captain Richards had apologized. He hadn't been the one blocking her entry.
Was it fair to terminate him? But then she remembered his earlier words. I didn't know you were here already. Why hadn't he known? Shouldn't the captain of an aircraft be aware when the owner was scheduled to board?
Had he been briefed on the passenger manifest for today's flight? Had any of them bothered to look at photos of Diane Cooper, the woman who paid their salaries and owned their workplace? Or had they simply never imagined that the owner might not look like the other wealthy white executives they fied around the country. The finger came down for email sent. Diane watched the sending bar fill, committing to her decision.
30 seconds later, she heard a sharp gasp from the galley. Jennifer's voice high and distressed. Oh my god, Amy, did you get this email? Diane closed her laptop and waited. The aircraft cabin that had felt so spacious suddenly seemed very small.
Footsteps approached, hesitant, terrified. Jennifer appeared, phone clutched in her shaking hand. Her face was ashen. Miss Cooper, please. Please, you can't do this.
I have a family. My daughter is starting college next year. This job, it's everything. I made a mistake. A terrible mistake, but please give me another chance.