That short, ordinary phone call revealed more than any boardroom confrontation could have, proving that Grant had not built an empire to prove anything to Sloan at all, but to give his daughter stability, and to protect the people who had once trusted him with their safety. Before landing, Grant gave her one final opportunity, a single choice with no room for negotiation. Tell the entire truth before the wheels touched Seattle soil, or continue shielding Conrad and share equally in whatever came next. Still convinced her loyalty would be repaid, Sloan chose Conrad, certain that protecting him now would somehow protect her later. Minutes afterward, a video call connected on the cabin's private screen, and Conrad Blackthorn's voice filled the space with the particular coldness of a man accustomed to being obeyed without question, telling Sloan bluntly that if Grant Holloway discovered anything at all, she alone would be the one who had signed every document.
Unaware that Grant sat directly across from her, Conrad instructed Sloan to secure the investor's signature before the aircraft landed, no matter what it took. He went further, ordering her to erase every trace connecting the company to the $86 million transfer routed through the unexplained consulting firm, his tone leaving no room for hesitation or conscience. Grant raised a single hand, signaling everyone in the cabin to remain silent while the call continued, allowing the aircraft's own legally disclosed recording system to capture every word without interruption. Conrad, growing careless in his certainty, revealed that the consulting firm was in fact controlled by a private Blackthorn family trust, a vehicle designed to quietly move personal assets out of reach before the larger company collapsed under its own debt. He explained, almost proudly, that because Sloan's signature appeared on the paperwork, any investigation would find her name first and likely stop there.
Sloan sat frozen, absorbing the reality that the man she had served loyally for more than a decade had already built the exit ramp meant to leave her stranded in his place. She thought of every early morning she had spent drafting memos in his voice, every holiday she had missed to be reachable for him, every time she had told herself that loyalty upward would eventually be repaid in kind. None of it had ever been a partnership at all, only an arrangement that lasted exactly as long as she remained useful and not one moment longer. The cabin around her seemed to tilt slightly, though the aircraft itself flew perfectly level, and she found she could not look at Grant, could not bear to see whatever expression was waiting on his face. Then Grant leaned into frame, and Conrad's tone shifted instantly, sliding into forced warmth as he insisted the entire conversation had simply been an internal misunderstanding blown out of proportion.
Grant asked him plainly about the $86 million, the pension fund exposure, and the falsified maintenance figures, refusing to let the moment slip back into pleasantries. Conrad dismissed him as a fortunate engineer who lacked the experience to run anything resembling a global corporation, certain that a man who owned a handful of aircraft posed no real threat to a dynasty like his. Grant did not argue the point. He simply told Conrad they would speak again at the conference and ended the call without another word. Once the screen went dark, panic finally cracked through Sloan's composure, and she offered to hand over every internal document she had in exchange for for silence about what he now knew.