Chapter 3 - The Terminal Confrontation
Michael shoved the car door open before Victor could even put it in park. He sprinted through the sliding glass doors, ignoring the blinding flashbulbs of the paparazzi who had already tracked Anna’s livestream to the Air France departure desk.
He shoved past tourists, vaulting over a velvet rope at the VIP security checkpoint. Because he was a Platinum Medallion member, he bypassed the main lines, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped animal.
He spotted her just past the first-class lounge, walking toward Gate B22.
The scene was a chaotic masterpiece, perfectly captured in the frantic energy . Anna looked breathtakingly serene, dressed in a flawless, bone-white travel suit, holding her passport and a small designer carry-on. She was the absolute picture of a woman stepping out of a cage. Michael, by contrast, looked like a madman—his tie undone, his suit wrinkled, his face flushed with desperate, unhinged terror as he lunged toward her.
"Anna!" Michael screamed, his voice cracking, echoing over the gate agent’s final boarding call. "Anna, stop!"
Anna paused. She did not look surprised. She turned around slowly, her face entirely devoid of the warmth he had taken for granted for five years.
"You shouldn't be here, Michael," Anna said, her voice carrying the chilling, clinical detachment of a mortician. "You're going to miss the birth of your child."
"Screw the child! Screw Marissa!" Michael panted, closing the distance between them, ignoring the dozens of passengers staring at them with wide eyes and recording phones. He dropped to his knees right there on the terminal carpet. "Anna, please! It was a mistake! A stupid, meaningless mistake! I love you! I will fire her, I will pay her off, I will never see that baby! Just don't get on this plane!"
Anna looked down at the weeping, pathetic shell of the CEO she had once respected.
"You're a monster, Michael," she said softly. "You would abandon your own child in a hospital room just to save your stock price. That doesn't make me want to stay. It just proves exactly why I have to leave."
"I can fix this!" Michael begged, reaching for her hand.
May you like
Before his fingers could graze her pristine white sleeve, a man stepped out from the VIP lounge directly behind Anna.
"She doesn't want to be touched, Michael."
