"No need to involve the captain."
"Why not?"
"Because I can handle this."
Emily returned carrying a green champagne bottle.
Victoria took it from her.
"Thank you."
Emily glanced at Isaiah.
Something in her expression suggested that she knew what was coming.
"Ma'am," she whispered, "perhaps we should call the purser first."
Victoria turned toward her.
"Go back to your station."
Emily stepped away.
Victoria faced Isaiah.
"Last chance. Show me your identification again."
Isaiah looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because I asked you to."
"That isn't a reason."
Her cheeks reddened.
"You're deliberately challenging my authority."
"No. I'm asking you to explain it."
Victoria lifted the champagne bottle.
For a fraction of a second, Isaiah thought she was going to pour a drink into his glass.
Instead, she tilted the bottle over his head.
The first stream of champagne struck his forehead.
The cold liquid ran down his face.
It entered his eyes, soaked his hoodie, and splashed across his chest.
The entire cabin froze.
Emily gasped.
The elderly woman covered her mouth.
The businessman across the aisle stood halfway out of his seat.
Victoria continued pouring.
Isaiah closed his eyes.
He did not move.
He did not raise his hands.
He simply sat there, allowing the champagne to run down his face.
When Victoria finally lowered the bottle, the silence was almost unbearable.
"First class isn't for freeloaders," she said. "Show me your ID before I have you arrested."
A passenger near the rear whispered, "Oh my God."
Another immediately raised his phone.
Emily stood motionless.
"Ma'am, what have you done?"
Victoria turned toward her.
"Don't interfere."
"But—"
"I said don't interfere!"
The businessman across the aisle finally spoke.
"Are you serious?"
Victoria pointed at him.
"Sir, please remain seated."
"You just poured champagne on him!"
"This is an internal security matter."
"Internal security?" the man repeated. "You assaulted a passenger!"
Victoria ignored him.
She looked down at Isaiah.
"Now, are you going to cooperate?"
Isaiah slowly opened his eyes.
He reached for a linen napkin.
He wiped the champagne from his face.
Then he looked at the woman.
"Are you finished?"
Victoria stared at him.
"Not until I know how you got into that seat."
Isaiah nodded slightly.
He reached into his pocket.
And that was when he placed the brass nameplate on the console.
The nameplate had been made three years earlier.
Isaiah kept it in a protective leather case and carried it during important company visits.
It was not an official identification document.
It did not contain a photograph, security code, or access credential.
But it carried the name of the person who had founded Prestige Atlantic Airlines.
And the title beneath it was unmistakable.
FOUNDER & CEO.
Victoria stared at the engraved letters.
For several seconds, she seemed unable to process what she was seeing.
Then she looked at Isaiah.
"No."
Her voice was barely audible.
Isaiah remained silent.
She leaned closer.
"That's not possible."
"Why?"
"You can't be..."
"Can't be what?"
She swallowed.
"Mr. Carter?"
Isaiah looked at her.
"You know my name."
Victoria's face drained of color.
Her fingers tightened around the champagne bottle.
The bottle slipped slightly before she caught it again.
Behind her, Emily covered her mouth.
The businessman across the aisle looked from the nameplate to Isaiah.
Then he slowly sat down.
"Oh, my God," someone whispered.
Victoria shook her head.
"I didn't know."
Isaiah looked at the champagne running down his sleeve.
"That seems to be the problem."
"I thought..."
She stopped.
"What did you think?"
"I thought there had been a mistake with the reservation."
Isaiah glanced toward his phone.
"My reservation was valid when I boarded."
"Yes, but..."
"But what?"
Victoria could not finish the sentence.
The cabin was now completely silent.
Every passenger seemed to understand that something significant had happened.
Isaiah placed the linen napkin on the console.
He looked directly at Victoria.
"You have until we land to clear your locker."
Her mouth opened.
"Mr. Carter, please."
He did not respond.
"Please, let me explain."
"You've had several opportunities to explain yourself."
"I didn't know who you were."
Isaiah's expression remained unchanged.
"Would that have made this acceptable if I had been someone else?"
Victoria froze.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
She looked around the cabin.
The passengers were still recording.
Emily stood beside the galley, visibly shaken.
Victoria lowered her voice.
"Could we discuss this privately?"
Isaiah shook his head.
"No."
"Sir, please. Everyone is watching."
"Yes. They are."
He leaned back in his seat.
"And perhaps that's a good thing."
The captain received the first report approximately three minutes later.
His name was Robert Mitchell.
He was fifty-six years old and had flown commercial aircraft for nearly three decades.
He was an experienced pilot, respected by his colleagues, and generally regarded as a calm professional.
When the message from the senior cabin supervisor reached the cockpit, it was brief.
A passenger was allegedly refusing to cooperate with identity verification.
The captain asked for clarification.
The response was even shorter.
The passenger claimed to be the airline's chief executive.
Robert frowned.
"Who?"
"Isaiah Carter."
The captain looked toward the first officer.
"Did she say Isaiah Carter?"
"Yes."
Robert removed his headset.
"That's the owner of the airline."
The first officer turned toward him.
"Is he on this flight?"
"Apparently."
The captain requested an update.
This time, Emily answered.
She was standing near the galley with her hands trembling.
"Captain, I need to report a serious incident."
"Go ahead."
"Ms. Hayes poured champagne over a passenger."
Silence.
"What?"
"She poured an entire bottle over Mr. Carter's head."
Robert looked at the first officer.
"Is he injured?"
"I don't believe so, sir."
"Why did she do that?"
Emily hesitated.
"She accused him of having an invalid first-class ticket."
"Was his ticket invalid?"
"No, sir. I checked it before departure."
"Then why did she..."
Emily stopped.
She did not want to accuse her supervisor without understanding what would happen afterward.
But she knew that silence would make her part of the problem.