Chapter 6 - THE RETALIATION
Warren shuffled off the plane like a condemned man walking toward the gallows.
I watched him disappear down the glass jetbridge. Through the window, I could see Paige standing near the terminal entrance, her hands on her hips, screaming at him as soon as he caught up to her. She was pointing at her phone, demanding answers, while Warren held his head in his hands, completely overwhelmed.
Nadine walked up beside me, leaning her shoulder against the bulkhead door.
“That,” Nadine said, taking a slow sip from her water bottle, “was the most glorious thing I have ever witnessed in twenty-four years of flying.”
“It’s not over yet,” I said, looking out at the tarmac. “That was just the landing.”
Because my shift was a turn—meaning our crew was scheduled to fly the plane back to Dallas after a two-hour turnaround—I had two hours of duty time inside Cancun International Airport.
I walked down to the terminal concourse to grab a bottle of water.
As I passed the customer service counters near Gate C-14, I heard a familiar, raised voice shouting in frustration.
“What do you mean my card is declined? Try it again! It’s an American Express Centurion card!”
It was Warren.
He was standing at the counter of a luxury airport rental car agency, drenched in sweat, his navy suit jacket tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Beside him, Paige was standing with her arms crossed, tapping her foot furiously against the tile floor.
The Mexican customer service representative behind the desk shook her head politely. “I am sorry, señor. The system says ‘Account Suspended - Contact Issuer.’ The card will not process.”
“Use your personal card, Warren!” Paige shouted, her voice echoing through the busy terminal, attracting stares from dozen of tourists. “Just put the car on your personal Visa!”
Warren pulled out his personal card with trembling fingers and handed it over.
Five seconds later, the machine let out a loud, shrill beep.
DECLINED.
“Señor,” the agent said sternly, taking the card back. “I cannot rent you a vehicle without an active credit authorization. I must ask you to step aside for the next customer.”
“Do you know who I am?” Warren yelled, slamming his hand onto the counter. “I am the Executive Vice President of Bellamy Ridge Construction! I have millions of dollars!”
“You were the Executive Vice President, Warren,” my voice cut through the air.
Warren spun around. I was standing ten feet away, holding my bottle of water, looking pristine in my airline uniform.
“Elena!” Warren rushed toward me, his hands raised in surrender. “Elena, listen to me! My personal cards are frozen too! Harlan blocked the primary credit line! I don't even have enough cash to pay for a taxi to the hotel! You have to transfer some money from our joint savings account right now!”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, tapped the screen, and turned it toward him.
It was a notification from our bank, delivered twenty minutes ago.
Notice: Joint Checking and Savings Accounts frozen per legal injunction filed by Moran & Associates Legal Team.
Warren stared at the screen, his jaw hanging open. “You... you froze our personal accounts?”
“Elise Moran filed an emergency motion for asset preservation thirty minutes ago,” I explained calmly. “Given the evidence of corporate embezzlement, the court placed a temporary freeze on all shared liquid assets to prevent you from hiding funds offshore.”
Paige gasped, taking two sharp steps away from Warren as if he had a contagious disease.
“Wait...” Paige said, her voice dropping into horrified realization. “You don't have any money? You’re broke?”
“Paige, shut up for a second!” Warren pleaded, turning back to her. “It’s temporary! Once my lawyers handle this—”
“You lied to me!” Paige shrieked, her voice reaching a high pitched scream. “You told me you were a multi-millionaire! You told me you owned the construction company! You brought me to Mexico and you can’t even pay for a rental car?”
“Paige, baby, please—”
“Don't touch me!” Paige yelled, slapping his hand away. “I am not staying here with you! I’m buying my own ticket back to Dallas!”
She grabbed her beige designer handbag, pulled a shiny gold credit card out of her wallet—her own card—and marched over to the airline ticket counter across the concourse.
“Paige! Paige, wait!” Warren ran after her, but she didn't even look back.
She bought a one-way economy ticket on the next flight out, pulled her rolling suitcase behind her, and walked through the security checkpoints, leaving Warren standing completely alone in the middle of the noisy, crowded Cancun airport terminal.
Warren stood there for a long time. His tie was crooked, his hair was disheveled, and his expensive linen shirt was stained with sweat.
He slowly turned around and looked at me.
“Elena...” he croaked, his voice breaking. “I have nothing. I don't even have a place to stay tonight.”
I looked at him—the man I had spent eighteen years loving, the man I had sacrificed my youth and my grandmother’s land to build up.
May you like
“You have your ticket back to Dallas, Warren,” I said softly. “I suggest you take it. Because when you get back, the sheriff’s department will be waiting.”
I turned my back on him and walked toward Gate C-12 to board my flight home.
