Chapter 8 - Descent into Reality
"Cabin crew, prepare for landing."
Tyler’s voice sounded over the cabin speakers once more, perfectly smooth, confident, and utterly triumphant. He had just executed a flawless approach into Miami International.
In seat 1B, Sarah was already touching up her lipstick in a gold compact mirror, adjusting her sparkling emerald dress and checking her hair. She looked back at Elena one last time, letting out a soft, mocking laugh.
"Hope you enjoyed the ride, sweetie," Sarah whispered as she passed Elena’s row on her way to stow her bag. "Make sure you don't cry too loud when the reporters start taking pictures of Tyler and me at the gate."
Elena didn't even look up at her. She gently fastened Mason’s seatbelt, kissed her son’s forehead, and smiled. "We're going to see Uncle Marcus in just a few minutes, Mason."
"Will Grandpa David be proud of me?" Mason asked softly, his little fingers tracing the plastic wings on his chest.
"Grandpa David is watching you right now, baby," Elena whispered. "And he is prouder than you could ever imagine."
The heavy landing gear slammed down with a mechanical groan, locking into place. Outside the windows, the bright Florida sunshine reflected off the turquoise waters of Biscayne Bay as Flight 412 crossed the threshold of the runway.
With a gentle puff of tire smoke and the roar of the thrust reversers, the Boeing 777 touched down on Runway 9, taxiing smoothly along the tarmac toward the international terminal.
Up in the cockpit, Tyler pulled off his headset, grinning ear-to-ear at First Officer Martinez.
"Not bad, huh, Martinez?" Tyler chuckled, stretching his arms. "That's how a future vice president lands a bird. Make sure you log my flight hours properly. Tonight, everything changes."
Martinez kept his eyes glued straight ahead onto the taxiway, his hands firm on the tiller. He didn't smile. He didn't nod.
"Yes, Captain Vance," Martinez said coldly, his voice dripping with unmistakable contempt. "Tonight, everything definitely changes."
Tyler frowned, irritated by the co-pilot’s lack of deference. "Watch your attitude, Martinez. You’re talking to your future boss."
The aircraft swung around the final curve of the taxiway, approaching Gate 14.
Through the massive cockpit windshield, Tyler expected to see the usual ground crew with orange batons, surrounded by the public relations team and camera crews he had requested for the inaugural celebration.
Instead, his eyes widened in sudden confusion.
Surrounding Gate 14 were four black Port Authority Police Department cruisers with flashing red-and-blue lights, two unmarked federal sedans, and a dozen armed officers standing in formation beside the jet bridge stairs.
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👉 Tyler laughed nervously, turning to Martinez, completely convinced the police were there to arrest his wife.
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