My Fiancé’s Secretary Tried to Steal My First-Class Seat? I Made Them Beg on Their Knees

Chapter 1

My mom called while I was still inside a classified research facility, telling me to come home for an arranged marriage. According to her, my supposed fiancé was handsome, young and already the CEO of a major company.

To ensure my safe travel, my supervisor personally contacted TSA and airport security, requiring my itinerary and identity to be fully encrypted.

Because—I am Eliana Carter, a classified scientist under the National Intelligence Research Division, and the sole heiress to Carter Global Maritime, one of the world’s largest shipping empires.

When I boarded the first-class cabin and reached my seat, someone suddenly yanked me backward. A stack of crisp dollar bills hit my chest.

“Your first-class seat is mine now. Take the cash and go sit in economy.”

I inhaled slowly, suppressing the irritation rising in my chest. “This is my seat. Why are you trying to force me out?”

The woman raised an eyebrow and laughed, as if I had told a joke. “Because I’m the executive assistant of Mr. Hayes. Michael Hayes. CEO of Hayes Air. In this airport? In this city? We get whatever we want.”

I stared at her for a moment, then dialed Michael Hayes’s private number. The second he answered, I asked, “Your assistant is telling people your family can buy all of Los Angeles. Is that true?”

…

There was a short beep before the call disconnected.

Michael Hayes had hung up without a word.

Zoe—the assistant—smirked at me triumphantly. “Wow. Your fiancé didn’t even bother talking to you. That tells you everything, doesn’t it?”

Several passengers began whispering.

“Don’t mess with the Hayes family.”

“Yeah, Hayes Air runs half of L.A.,” a woman muttered.

Another passenger whispered, “She probably snuck into first class. She should just apologize.”

Zoe’s smile widened. “See? Even they know your place.” She tapped my shoulder deliberately. “Now be a good girl and apologize. Say you’re sorry for blocking Mr. Hayes’s seat.”

I let out a cold laugh. “Apologize? To you?”

Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Don’t test me.”

“Funny,” I said evenly. “I thought America followed rules. Turns out you can kick people out just by talking loud enough?”

She scoffed, raised her hand and swung, aiming directly for my face. But she was too slow. Before her hand landed, I caught her wrist and twisted lightly.

A sharp scream burst out. “Ahhh! You—crazy—let go! Let go!”

Passengers stared in shock as she doubled over like a startled shrimp.

Just then, a cold male voice came from behind us: “Let her go.”