Elena had never been on a plane before in her life, and the experience made her feel incredibly small. The cabin lights hummed softly above her head, and the low thunder of the engines vibrated through the seat in a way that made her stomach twist with nervous excitement and fear at the same time. She tried to distract herself by reading the safety card over and over again, studying the little diagrams of oxygen masks and emergency exits as if memorizing them might somehow keep her safe in the sky. Every few minutes she glanced out the window beside her, watching the endless stretch of clouds below and wondering if her mother would have been proud that she was being brave enough to take this journey alone.
Across the aisle from her sat a man whose life could not have been more different from hers. His name was Richard Calloway, a fifty-five-year-old investment magnate whose business empire stretched across several major cities. The expensive charcoal suit he wore fit him perfectly, and the silver cufflinks on his sleeves caught the cabin lights each time he moved his hands. Even people who had never heard his name could tell immediately that he was the kind of man used to being important. He had boarded the plane late, still talking loudly on his phone about a financial deal worth millions of dollars, his voice sharp with impatience as he argued with someone on the other end of the line.
“We’re not postponing the closing again,” he said firmly, rubbing his forehead with visible irritation. “If the partners hesitate now, the entire project collapses.”
When the call finally ended, Richard leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes as if the world had exhausted him. To Elena, he looked like someone from a completely different reality, a man who belonged to fancy offices and tall buildings rather than cramped airplane seats and crying children. She didn’t look at him very long because she had learned early in life that people with money rarely noticed girls like her.
For nearly an hour the flight moved smoothly through the sky. Passengers watched movies, flipped through magazines, or drifted quietly to sleep while the aircraft cruised high above the clouds. Then without warning the turbulence began. The first jolt was gentle, just enough to rattle the overhead compartments and make a few passengers glance up in mild concern. But the shaking quickly grew stronger, and soon the plane dipped sharply through a pocket of unstable air, sending a wave of gasps down the narrow cabin.
Elena clutched the armrests and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember the breathing technique her mother used to teach her during frightening moments. Inhale slowly. Count to four. Exhale gently. But before she could finish the second breath, she heard something strange beside her. It was a sound that didn’t belong to the plane or the turbulence—a strained, uneven breathing that sounded like someone struggling for air.
She opened her eyes and turned toward the aisle.
