I climbed into the cramped, leather-scented back seat. Jessica slid in beside me, her designer sunglasses masking her eyes. She smelled of expensive perfume and cold calculation. My mother took the co-pilot seat up front, her phone already raised, snapping perfectly framed photos of the instrument panel for her social media.
Richard ran through his pre-flight checklist with the rigid, theatrical precision of a surgeon about to make an incision. The engine roared to life, a deafening, mechanical scream that vibrated through my boots and rattled my teeth. Lily stirred against my chest but didn’t cry, lulled by the intense vibration.
We taxied, accelerated, and lifted off smoothly. The ground dropped away, the familiar geometry of our town shrinking into a patchwork quilt of green fields, gray rooftops, and winding, sunlit rivers.
For one brief, fragile minute, the sheer beauty of the ascent tricked my brain. The anxiety loosened its grip on my throat. I looked down at the world, feeling a momentary sense of peace.
“Look, Lily,” I whispered over the roar of the engine, pressing my lips to the soft crown of her head. “That’s home down there.”
Then, the illusion shattered.
My mother turned around in the co-pilot seat. The social media smile was gone. Her expression had gone completely flat, her features slack and lifeless. It was the face of a stranger.
“Emma,” Patricia said. She didn’t shout, but her voice carried a sharp, metallic edge that cut straight through the engine noise. “We need to settle something today.”
My pulse jumped, a violent, irregular spike. “Settle what?”
Beside me, Jessica shifted. Her mouth curled into a vicious, ugly sneer that I had never seen before. “Don’t play dumb, Emma. It doesn’t suit you.”
My mother’s eyes were dead. “You’ve been snooping in your father’s business.”
The blood drained from my face, rushing to my extremities in a primal fight-or-flight response. Before I could deny it, Jessica unzipped her leather tote bag. She pulled out a manila folder and dropped it directly onto my lap.
I looked down. They were photocopies. Copies of the duplicate invoices. Copies of the fabricated accident reports. Copies of the exact files I had been reviewing in my kitchen.
“We have cameras in the house, you idiot,” Jessica spat, leaning closer, her breath hot against my cheek. “We know you took the box home. We know you talked to the security chief at your hospital. We know you’re planning to ruin us.”
“I didn’t report anything!” I stammered, my hands flying up to cover Lily, gripping the fabric of the carrier so tightly my knuckles ached. “I didn’t understand what I was looking at! I was just trying to figure out—”
“Understand this,” my father’s voice boomed from the pilot’s seat, devoid of any paternal warmth. It was the voice of a CEO terminating an existential threat. “You and that bastard baby are a liability.”
I gasped, the air completely leaving my lungs. I looked at my mother, silently begging her to intervene, to slap him, to demand he turn the plane around.
Patricia looked past my face. She looked directly at the sleeping bundle strapped to my chest.
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