Chapter 5

I saw the call light blinking and knew exactly what it meant. This wasn't about service, it was about power. It was a deliberate, calculated act of provocation. I took a moment to compose myself, my face a neutral mask. The anger was a cold, hard knot in my stomach, but on the surface, I was calm.

I walked to the forward cabin. The space was separated from the rest of the plane by a heavy curtain, creating an intimate, exclusive zone. Liam was looking at some documents on a tablet, and Chloe was lounging in the seat opposite him, a smug look on her face.

"You called?" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion.

Chloe looked me up and down, as if I were a piece of furniture. "Yes. I've decided I'm thirsty after all. I'll have a glass of champagne. The Cristal, of course. And make sure it's chilled to exactly seven degrees Celsius. I can tell the difference."

It was a ridiculous, petty demand designed to make me feel small.

"Of course," I said.

As I turned to leave, she added, "Oh, and a bowl of almonds. Unsalted. And can you warm them slightly? Not too hot, just... pleasant."

The sheer audacity of it was breathtaking. She was treating me like her personal maid, and doing it right in front of Liam, who didn't even look up from his work. He was completely complicit in my humiliation.

I went back to the galley. Sarah was there, her face a mask of fury.

"That witch," she hissed. "Don't do it, Ava. I'll take it to her."

"No," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "It's okay, Sarah. I'll handle it."

I needed to see this through. I needed them to feel completely in control, completely safe in their arrogance. Their overconfidence would be their undoing.

I meticulously prepared the champagne, using a digital thermometer to ensure it was at the perfect temperature. I warmed the almonds as requested. I placed everything on a silver tray and carried it back to the forward cabin.

I served the champagne and placed the bowl of almonds on the small table between them.

Chloe picked up a single almond and examined it. "These are a little too warm," she said with a sigh, dropping it back into the bowl. She took a sip of champagne. "And this is maybe eight degrees. But I suppose it will have to do."

She was enjoying this immensely. Then, she looked at my shoes.

"My feet are a little swollen from the flight," she said, stretching her legs out. "My shoes are feeling a bit tight. Could you help me take them off?"

This was it. The ultimate act of degradation. She wanted me to kneel before her. To physically place myself in a position of servitude.

Liam finally looked up from his tablet, a faint smile on his lips. He was watching, waiting to see what I would do.

Chloe saw the hesitation in my eyes and pressed her advantage. "Is there a problem? I'm a passenger with a request. If you refuse, I could file a formal complaint. It would look very bad on your record. A simple passenger request, refused by the head of crew. Liam," she said, turning to him with a pout, "Ava is being difficult again."

She knew the rules. She knew how to twist them, how to weaponize customer service standards against me. In her eyes, I was already defeated.