“I knew you were married.
I didn’t know you were stealing.”
“You enjoyed the money.”
“I believed it was yours.”
He looked at her with contempt.
“Then you believed what was convenient.”
The cruelty of it settled over the cabin.
Madison reached for her phone.
Grant moved toward her, but Captain Warren stepped between them.
She opened a message thread and held the device toward me.
“I have messages,” she said.
“About the trip.
About the transfer deadline.
He told me we had to be in the air before five.”
Grant’s face changed again.
This time it was not anger.
It was panic.
“Give me that phone.”
Madison backed toward the doorway.
“No.”
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I think I finally do.”
She looked at me.
“I’ll send everything.”
I did not thank her.
She had knowingly entered my marriage, climbed onto my aircraft, and wrapped herself in my blanket.
Cooperation did not erase that.
But evidence was evidence.
“Preserve the original messages,” I said.
“Do not delete or edit anything.
My counsel will contact you.”
She nodded.
Grant pointed toward the stairs.
“Get out.”
Madison looked at him for a long moment.
Then she stepped into the cold.
The blanket remained on the floor behind her.
Captain Warren waited until she reached the tarmac before turning to me.
“Destination?”
“Wichita.”
Grant stared at me.
“You’re actually doing this.”
“Yes.”
He could still have walked away.
The stairs were open.
The federal complaint would proceed whether he boarded or not.
But Grant had spent years believing every room could be conquered if he stayed inside it long enough.
He thought he could reach Wichita, intimidate the auditors, fracture the board’s confidence, and turn my evidence into a marital misunderstanding.
He sat down.
“Fine,” he said.
“Let’s finish this.”
I nodded to Captain Warren.
The stairs rose.
The cabin door sealed with a heavy mechanical thud.
The two champagne glasses remained on the table between us.
One was full.
