Chapter 3 - The Tarmac Welcome
When the wheels finally touched down at Miami International Airport, the tension in the cabin snapped. As soon as the fasten seatbelt sign dinged off, Chloe unbuckled her belt, grabbed her designer carry-on from the overhead bin, and bolted toward the front of the plane without looking back.
"Chloe, wait!" Julian called out pathetically, but she was already gone, disappearing into the jet bridge.
I stood up, smoothing my skirt, and slung my leather bag over my shoulder. "Looks like you’ll be needing a new ride to the hotel," I noted.
Julian didn't stand. He pulled his phone from his pocket and took it off airplane mode. Within seconds, it began vibrating violently. The screen lit up with a barrage of missed calls, text messages, and voicemails.
I could read the names flashing on his screen from where I stood. David - Managing Partner. HR Department. Legal Counsel. Sarah - Your Attorney.
He answered a call from David, his hand shaking so badly he nearly dropped the phone.
"David, listen, I can explain—" Julian started, but he was immediately cut off by the booming, furious voice on the other end of the line. Even standing a foot away, I could hear the screaming.
Julian’s face went from pale to gray. "David, please... it was a temporary reallocation... you have to let me fix this..."
He hung up, burying his face in his hands.
"What did he say?" I asked, feigning innocent curiosity.
"I'm fired," Julian whispered, his voice completely broken. "They've already contacted the FBI. Corporate security is waiting for me at the gate."
I looked out the window and saw two men in dark suits standing just inside the terminal, holding badges. My lawyer had moved faster than I anticipated.
"Well," I said, stepping past him into the aisle. "I suppose this is where we part ways, Julian. Oh, by the way, I had the locks changed on the Boston house this morning. Don't bother flying back. My lawyer will be in touch about the divorce and full custody of Maya."
Julian looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. The arrogance, the lies, the manipulation—it had all burned to the ground in the span of a three-hour flight. "Elena, please. I have nothing. I have nowhere to go."
"You have a lovely condo in Miami," I reminded him sweetly. "Or at least, you do until the feds seize it tomorrow. Enjoy the sunshine."
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I walked off the plane, flashing a brilliant smile at the flight attendants. As I stepped into the terminal, I watched the two men in suits approach Julian the moment he stepped off the jet bridge. They didn't yell or make a scene. They simply escorted him into a private security room.
I walked out of the airport, hailed a cab, and checked myself into a five-star oceanfront resort. I ordered a glass of champagne to the balcony of my suite, listening to the crashing waves, and toasted to the most expensive, satisfying flight of my life.
