cabin.
She waited until most of the first-class passengers had filtered into the jet bridge before standing. Her legs felt weak, her high heels wobbling slightly as she stepped out into the empty aisle.
Evan was waiting near the forward exit, speaking softly with Marissa and Jessica near the open cockpit door. He thanked them both for their professionalism during the flight and handed Marissa his corporate business card.
“If you ever face retaliation from corporate travel accounts, call my office directly,” Evan told them smoothly. Jessica beamed with genuine gratitude, while Marissa nodded with deep, appreciative respect for his considerate gesture.
Darla tried to brush past them without making eye contact, keeping her designer bag pressed against her ribs. But Evan turned slightly, his tall frame naturally commanding the narrow space of the forward exit gallery.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” Evan said, his deep voice cutting through the soft ambient noise
