Chapter 3

"Stabilize flight attitude, maintain best glide speed," Victoria said without hesitation. "I recommend establishing a visual circling approach for descent immediately."

Her cadence was steady, each command precisely targeting a critical point.

A flicker of recognition lit up Lincoln's eyes, and he swiftly relayed the key points to the flight crew.

The seconds stretched into an eternity until, finally, the captain's voice, heavy with relief, crackled through the speakers. "Tower, this is B-3471. We have landed safely at Eastlake Airport. All personnel are secure. The aircraft is now taxiing to the designated gate."

A wave of cheers erupted in the control room.

Lincoln let out a long, slow breath and turned, clapping a hand on Victoria's shoulder. His eyes were filled with genuine admiration.

"Excellent, Victoria! Very well done! You haven't let your studies slip one bit."

"It's what I'm here for, Mr. Jones," Victoria replied, a faint smile touching her lips.

Lincoln nodded, his expression turning more serious as he looked at her. "Victoria, I've seen your theoretical knowledge and your emergency response capabilities firsthand. They're exceptionally solid." 

He paused, his tone becoming deliberate. "Considering your current physical condition, I'm prepared to offer you a position in the Flight Operations Control Center as a flight operations controller. Once you've had the baby and are ready, we can transition you to a pilot role. What do you say? Are you interested?"

A flight operations controller?

Victoria's heart hammered against her ribs. She answered without a flicker of doubt. "I am. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Jones. I'd be thrilled to join."

Upon leaving Lincoln's company, Victoria wasted no time. She retrieved the resignation letter she had prepared the previous night from her bag and turned toward the bus stop.

The bus to her old airline was always crowded. She shielded her stomach with one arm, her other hand gripping a handrail as her body swayed with the lurching motion of the vehicle. 

The scenery outside blurred past the window, and her mind drifted unexpectedly to the luxury cars collecting dust in their garage. 

Charles had never explicitly forbidden her from driving them, but she had always felt that, for a mere ground staff member, arriving in such a vehicle would be too conspicuous, a direct contradiction of his preference for a low profile. 

He had been noncommittal on the subject, a silence she had interpreted as a tacit prohibition, leading her to endure the daily crush of the public bus.

Arriving at the airline's headquarters, Victoria went straight to her supervisor's office. 

Finn Davis looked up in surprise as she placed the letter on his desk. He tried to dissuade her, but her resolve was firm, and he eventually relented, signing his name with a sigh.

"Alright. Just make sure you hand over everything to Chris before you go."

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of activity. Victoria began the handover process, organizing files, cross-referencing invoices, and explaining workflows. 

Even for a ground staff position, the number of trivial but necessary tasks was considerable. By late afternoon, a dull throb had started in her temples.

She went to the breakroom for some hot water. As she stood by the window, her gaze drifted down to the main entrance of the building. 

A familiar black luxury car pulled up smoothly. Charles, dressed in casual clothes, emerged from the driver's side and walked around to open the passenger door.

Michelle stepped out, a bright smile on her face. 

She was wearing a beautifully tailored suit dress, and a pink butterfly brooch on her collarbone glittered in the sunlight. 

Charles's face was wreathed in a smile as he looked at her, leaning in to say something that made Michelle playfully tap his arm before she turned and hurried into the building. 

He didn't leave immediately, his eyes following her until she disappeared through the doors. Only then did he get back into the car.

A few colleagues on their break couldn't help but start murmuring.

"Mr. Smith is giving Michelle a ride to work again!"

"Is that car new? I heard he bought it for her as a birthday present! He really spares no expense."

"And that's not all. He's so busy, yet he's willing to be her personal chauffeur every day. He's spoiling her rotten."

"They look so good together. Michelle is so lucky to be doted on by Mr. Smith like this…"

"Who knows, maybe Michelle will actually become our future captain's wife…"

The words washed over Victoria, and her hand tightened around the warm cup. 

So, the expensive cars she had consciously avoided driving could be given away so easily. 

So, he wasn't born cold and detached; his tenderness was simply a currency he refused to spend on her. 

Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise, a sharp, constricting pain. 

But just as quickly, she reined in her emotions, finished her water, and returned to her desk to continue her work.

Just as she was organizing the last of the handover materials, her colleague, Chris Miller, approached with a stack of invoices, a troubled look on his face. "Victoria, these are the freight manifests you handled earlier. The cargo station is pushing hard, saying there seems to be an issue with the data. Could you double-check them?"

Victoria nodded and took the documents. As she reviewed them item by item, she quickly spotted the problem: the data on several manifests showed signs of tampering, which could lead to critical errors in the load and balance calculations. 

She marked the discrepancies prominently with a red pen and added a detailed note in the handover memo specifying the questionable entries and the source of the original data.

Once finished, she handed the entire file, including the red-marked manifests, back to Chris. "The problematic sections are flagged. Make sure you re-verify them against the source."

With the task complete, Victoria felt a wave of relief. She was about to start clearing her desk when a cold pressure descended on the office. 

Charles strode toward her, his face a mask of thunder. Clutched in his hand were photocopies of the very manifests she had just reviewed. He stopped before her desk, his eyes glacial.

"Is this your work? How could you get the most basic load data this wrong? Do you have any professional integrity at all? Do you have any idea the kind of risk this creates?"

He threw the papers, and they scattered across her desk. The air around them went still.

"That is not the data I finalized," Victoria stated, her voice calm as she looked at the scattered sheets. "I identified the problem, marked it clearly in red pen on the original documents, and requested a re-verification against the source records. You can pull the originals; my signature and notes are on them."

"Marked it?" He sneered. "The error is printed here in black and white, and you're telling me you 'marked it'? Victoria, I've overlooked your usual carelessness, but it's clear now you lack even the most basic sense of responsibility!"

His reprimand was merciless. Normally, faced with Charles in such a state, Victoria might have backed down. But not now. She was leaving this job—no, she was leaving this marriage. What was there to be afraid of?

She pushed herself to her feet, her hands braced on the edge of the desk, and met his gaze directly. "Then I suggest Mr. Smith pull the security footage right now and see what the original documents I handed over actually looked like."

Her defiance made his brow furrow deeper. "What gives you the right to demand security footage? Who are you trying to fool, playing the victim in front of me?"

So, that was it. Regardless of the truth, the fault was hers. A familiar resignation settled over her, though her hands clenched at her sides. This was, after all, his consistent pattern with her.

Just then, a soft voice interjected. "Charles, don't be so angry." Michelle had appeared at his side, her tone gentle and placating. She then turned to Victoria, her eyes lingering for a moment on the swell of her abdomen before she offered a purely benevolent smile.

She began, her voice soft and considerate, "please don't take it to heart. Charles is a captain, and he's extremely particular about flight safety, so he can be a bit harsh." 

She looked back at Charles, her eyes wide and innocent. "But these data errors are quite fundamental. This base number, especially, is obviously wrong. I think she was probably just unfamiliar with the procedure and made a mistake. Being pregnant is tiring, after all. Please don't be mad at her anymore. Forgive her this one time, won't you?"

She was so kind, so gentle, every word a plea on Victoria's behalf.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped Victoria's lips. "There's no need to plead for me," she said, her gaze fixed on Michelle. "It wasn't my mistake to begin with."

Charles's frown tightened. But Victoria ignored him, pulling out her phone and calling up a photo of the handover documents. She had taken a short video for her own records, a move that now seemed prescient.

"This is a photo of the original. The red-pen notations and my signature are right there," Victoria said, turning the screen toward Charles and tapping her finger on the key section. 

"As for the data itself," she continued, her gaze shifting to Michelle, "the base number you just pointed out is, in fact, the correct original data. The value currently printed on the manifest is the erroneous one. It falls outside the aircraft's safety redundancy standards for load distribution."

A hot blush flooded Michelle's cheeks. Her eyes darted away as her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. She bit her lip, cornered.

"That's enough!" Charles suddenly barked at Victoria.