“Ms. Vance-Mercer,” Sterling said, his voice eager and slightly breathless. “We’re twenty minutes out from the terminal with the legal team. My staff tells me the red carpet is ready for your three o’clock touch-down.”
“I’m already here, Richard,” Evelyn said evenly.
There was a sudden silence on the line. “You’re... you’re already at Meridian? Nobody called me! Did Arthur Vance greet you at the ramp? I specifically told him to have the VIP detail waiting—”
“Oh, Mr. Vance greeted me at the bottom of my airstairs personally,” Evelyn said, her eyes drifting toward the glass office where Arthur was now fastening his gold cufflinks. “In fact, he is preparing quite a demonstration for your arrival. When your SUV pulls onto the tarmac in twenty minutes, you are not to say a word to your staff in advance. And you will bring the final countersignature charter directly to the foot of tail number N884VG.”
“Of course, ma’am, whatever you wish,” Sterling stammered, sensing the cold steel beneath her velvet tone. “Is everything alright with the facility?”
“We are about to complete the compliance audit in person,” Evelyn replied, and ended the call.
She stood up, smoothing the front of her vibrant turquoise pantsuit, and walked casually past the front desk. Maya, her eyes wide with dawning comprehension, silently slid a cream-colored Meridian courtesy folder across the corner of the marble counter.
Evelyn picked it up without breaking stride, slipping Maya’s printed dispatch logs and Marcus Hale’s file inside her oxblood portfolio.
At that exact moment, the door to the corner office swung open.
Arthur Vance stepped out looking thoroughly pleased with himself. He had changed into a freshly steamed olive jacket, his blondish-brown hair slicked back to a mirror shine. He glanced at his oversized gold watch—2:48 PM—and marched straight toward Evelyn in the center of the lobby.
“Time’s up,” Arthur announced loudly, reaching out to snatch the laminated visitor pass resting on the edge of the coffee table and tearing it cleanly in half.
The wealthy couple waiting near the glass doors turned to stare again.
“I just checked my Vance Logistics portal,” Arthur sneered, tossing the torn halves into a brass trash receptacle. “Zero incoming wires. Just like I thought—all turquoise silk and gold earrings, not a dime of real liquidity behind it. And to make matters worse, your charter pilot out there is still hogging Spot One right before my new corporate board arrives.”
Evelyn held the oxblood leather portfolio calmly against her hip, her face serene. “You want the Gulfstream moved?”
“I want the Gulfstream impounded until the ramp violation is paid, and I want you off my property,” Arthur barked, gesturing toward the sliding glass doors as two black Cadillac Escalades with tinted windows turned through the main tarmac security gate in the distance.
Arthur’s eyes lit up at the sight of the approaching executive convoy. A slow, vicious grin spread across his long face as he pointed toward the scorching concrete apron outside.
“Actually, step right back out onto that tarmac with me,” Arthur said, his voice dripping with smug triumph as the black SUVs rolled toward the silver jet. “Watch closely—you’re about to see how real owners are treated at my airport.”
The tires of the two black Cadillac Escalades hissed against the sun-baked concrete, rolling to a smooth stop just twenty yards from the silver Gulfstream.
The heat rising from the tarmac distorted the air around the vehicles, but Arthur Vance didn’t seem to notice the temperature. He had just stepped out of the chilled, lavender-scented VIP terminal into the blinding midday glare, and his chest was puffed out so far his fitted olive suit jacket strained at the button.
Evelyn walked quietly behind him, her white leather handbag over her wrist and the oxblood leather portfolio held loosely against her hip. She stopped exactly where she had been standing two hours earlier—one foot away from the bottom of the metal airstairs.
Arthur didn’t look back at her. He was too busy smoothing his bronze-gold tie and plastering a wide, sycophantic smile across his long face as the driver of the lead Escalade stepped out and opened the rear passenger door.