same mistake would never happen to another passenger.
The hum of the Rolls-Royce jet engines deepened into a rhythmic vibration as Flight 212 climbed through the gray mist above the Atlantic coastline. Outside the oval window of Seat 2A, the morning sky transformed from steel into brilliant gold.
Beside her, Richard Bennett sat completely frozen, his expensive leather briefcase unopened upon his lap. The man who had previously occupied the cabin with suffocating arrogance now seemed diminished, as if the air had been drained from his stature.
Zara rested her