Chapter 3

The next day, NorthStar held its annual Community Aviation Day.

I had been assigned to demonstrate routine aircraft maintenance for local media.

It was the first time I had ever been given a camera and a microphone to talk about the work I actually knew.

I arrived early and opened my toolbox.

I reached for my calibrated torque wrench.

It wasn't there.

Ethan had given me that wrench the day I earned my certification.

A small plate on the handle had been engraved with one line.

SIENNA — SAFETY IS NEVER SMALL.

The latch on my toolbox looked scratched.

Someone had forced it.

I searched every compartment.

Nothing.

My palms started sweating.

My heartbeat grew heavier.

Riley walked toward me with several reporters behind her.

She smiled into the cameras.

"Sienna, ready?"

I looked at her.

"Where's my wrench?"

She blinked.

"What wrench? I don't know."

"This morning I noticed your toolbox looked dirty, so I wiped the outside. I didn't want it looking bad on camera."

I stepped closer.

"You don't have authorization to touch my toolbox. Give it back."

Her face changed instantly.

She looked shocked, as if I had slapped her in public.

"Sienna, how can you accuse me of something like that with no proof?"

The whole event was being livestreamed.

A camera swung toward my face.

Comments began flying across the stream.

【Who is this woman? She's so aggressive.】

【Is that how the maintenance crew talks to flight attendants?】

I pulled out my phone and opened the hangar access log.

Then I held the screen toward the camera.

"Six-oh-two this morning. Your badge opened the maintenance area."

"Cabin crew aren't authorized to handle maintenance tools. Why were you inside?"

The air around us changed.

People who had been watching casually started looking at Riley.

A few employees exchanged glances.

Riley's eyes reddened.

Her hands curled into fists.

"I really was just trying to help."

"There was oil on your equipment. I cleaned it."

"I didn't think you'd humiliate me like this."

Ethan pushed through the crowd.

He grabbed my arm.

"Sienna. Shut down the livestream."

I ripped my arm out of his hand.

"I want her bag and personal belongings checked now."

His voice dropped.

There were cameras everywhere.

"Sienna, there are reporters here. Step away. I'll handle this."

He was willing to protect her innocence.

He wasn't willing to trust my accusation.

In his eyes, I didn't even deserve the chance to defend myself.

My chest tightened until it hurt.

My maintenance manager rushed over, sweating.

He looked from me to the cameras.

Then he made his decision.

"Sienna, take a break. Riley will do the cabin-safety presentation."

I was removed from my own demonstration.

I stood behind the stage and watched Riley take the microphone under the lights.

"Safety depends on every department working together," she told the cameras.

"Flight attendants are the last line of defense inside the cabin."

My professional showcase had become hers.

I checked the livestream on my phone.

The comments were tearing me apart.

【No wonder she didn't get an award. Imagine someone this unstable working on an airplane.】

【She almost ruined the whole company's event.】

I looked toward Ethan.

His jaw was tight.

He saw my face.

He saw my fists.

Then he looked away.

His silence gave everyone permission to blame me.

After the event ended, I found my torque wrench beside a trash-collection cart outside the maintenance area.

It was bent.

The metal was covered in deep scratches.

Someone had taken sandpaper to the engraved plate.

Only one word was still barely visible.

SAFETY.

My throat tightened.

My eyes burned.

Riley appeared behind me.

"Tools can be replaced."

"Don't make this into something bigger and put Ethan in a difficult position."

She offered me a paper cup of water.

I took it.

Then I threw the water straight into her face.

"Get away from me."

Riley gasped.

Ethan came toward us fast.

He stepped between us and grabbed the wrist holding the broken wrench.

"Sienna!"

I raised the wrench between us.

"This is what you gave me."

His face went pale when he saw the ruined engraving.

An engine roared somewhere across the ramp.

"...I know."

I stared at him.

The thing I had treasured most had become, in his eyes, just another tool that could be replaced.

He had never understood what that wrench meant to me.

I pulled my wrist free.

Back in the office, I sealed the damaged wrench in an evidence bag.

Then I opened my laptop.

I started organizing my resignation paperwork.

My handover files.

And copies of every original record that could prove the work I had done.