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The coded meaning sat heavy in the air. “Jordan,” she whispered. “She’s done this to three other first officers. One nearly quit aviation. She made false logs, altered passenger counts, and staged confrontations. She knows how to make it look like she’s the victim.” Jordan swallowed the rising anger. Elena, why didn’t anyone speak up? Elena hugged herself tighter.
Because Clare is protected. Management loves her. Crew trusts her. And anyone who complains gets labeled difficult, emotional, or incompetent. The system always chooses her. It’s safer. Safe for them, deadly for him. Jordan closed his eyes, breathing slowly. “What did you see tonight?” he asked. Elena stepped closer, voice trembling.
Fury hardening into something sharper. Resolve. “Ellena,” he said. “Do you have proof?” She nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out a USB drive. “There were audio checks on the jet bridge. The gate microphone picks up everything for safety. I downloaded the buffer before she could wipe it.
” Jordan’s breath caught. “You have actual recordings?” Yes, she whispered. A few minutes of her mocking you, bragging that she’d fixed the little charity boy problem for good. Jordan clenched his fists. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This wasn’t a bad day. This was calculated destruction. Elena, thank you, he said.
But Elena shook her head. Don’t thank me yet. You still don’t have enough. Claire’s been cleaning her tracks for years. She looked up at him with quiet desperation. But there is one person who might have more. Jordan leaned in. Who? Elellanena hesitated, then said a name he hadn’t expected. Your sister.
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