She shook her head.

“Nothing.”

Victoria turned sharply.

“Maya, stop.”

That reaction was enough.

I faced Maya.

“You may speak.”

Her eyes filled with fear.

Not nervousness.

Fear.

“There were other flights,” she said.

Richard interrupted.

“This is not the appropriate setting.”

Captain Reeves blocked his path.

“She is answering the inspector.”

Maya’s hands trembled.

“There were complaints before.”

My assignment involved complaints.

I had expected irregular training records, skipped cabin checks, and pressure around departure metrics.

I had not expected this.

“What kind of complaints?” I asked.

Maya looked at Victoria.

Victoria whispered, “Don’t.”

Maya’s chin lifted.

“Passengers.”

“About Victoria?”

“About several senior attendants.”

Richard rubbed his forehead.

“Maya, anything you say should be accurate.”

She laughed nervously.

“That is exactly what you told me last month.”

The gate supervisor looked uncomfortable.

“What happened last month?” I asked.

Maya reached into the pocket of her uniform.

Richard moved instantly.

“Do not remove anything from your person.”

Captain Reeves stepped forward again.

“Richard.”

Maya pulled out her phone.

“I saved screenshots.”

Victoria closed her eyes.

Richard stared at the phone as if it were a grenade.

“Screenshots of what?” I asked.

“Messages from our crew group.”

Richard spoke rapidly.

“Those are private employee communications.”

“If they concern safety duties, passenger treatment, or retaliation, they may be relevant.”

Maya unlocked the screen.

Her thumb shook.

“There is a list.”

“What list?”

She turned the phone toward me.

The heading made my stomach tighten.

DIFFICULT PASSENGERS.

Below it were names, seat numbers, loyalty statuses, ages, and crude descriptions.

Some entries had laughing emojis beside them.

Others included instructions.

IGNORE UNTIL SECOND CALL.

MAKE THEM WAIT.

MOVE BAG TO BACK.

DOCUMENT AS HOSTILE.

DO NOT UPGRADE.

OLDER WOMAN, TALKS TOO MUCH.

MAN IN WHEELCHAIR, ALWAYS DEMANDS HELP.

Richard reached for the phone.

Captain Reeves caught his wrist.

The cabin erupted.

Passengers began talking at once.

Several people raised their phones.

A woman near row six said she recognized her husband’s name.

Another passenger demanded to see the list.

Victoria backed against the galley wall.

Richard pulled his arm free.

“This is unofficial nonsense between employees.”

Maya stared at him.

“You created the group.”

Nobody spoke.

Richard looked at her.

She kept going.

“You told senior crew to flag passengers who hurt satisfaction scores.”

“That is a lie.”

“You said complaints caused compensation payouts.”

“That is not what I said.”

“You told us difficult passengers should learn that complaining makes travel less comfortable.”

Victoria whispered, “Maya.”

Maya turned on her.

“You told me keeping quiet was how people survived probation.”

Victoria’s face changed.

For one second, the arrogance disappeared.

Something heavier replaced it.

Shame.

Richard pointed toward the jet bridge.

“Maya Santos, you are removed from duty immediately.”

I stepped between them.

“No.”

Richard stared at me.

“You do not control our staffing.”

“I control whether suspected retaliation becomes part of my federal report.”

His mouth closed.

Maya looked at me as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

“You are not removing her because she answered questions during an inspection.”

Richard’s cheeks reddened.

“I am removing an employee who appears emotionally compromised.”

“There it is again,” I said.

Captain Reeves almost smiled.

Richard looked confused.

“The language people use after deciding the witness is the problem.”

My husband Paul would have appreciated that sentence.

He had spent thirty-six years as a public-school principal.

He believed bullies revealed themselves fastest when someone calmly asked them to explain their own words.

I missed him suddenly.

Not gently.

Grief sometimes arrives like turbulence.

No warning.

No permission.

Just a violent reminder that the person who understood your battles is no longer beside you.

I looked down at the orange stain on my sleeve.

Paul had bought that jacket for our thirty-fifth anniversary.

I had nearly donated it after he died.

Instead, I wore it whenever I needed courage.

Richard mistook my silence for hesitation.

“I think we can resolve this cooperatively.”

I looked up.

“So do I.”

Relief flickered across his face.

“Excellent.”

“Preserve every relevant record and remove no witness from duty status until proper interviews occur.”

His relief vanished.

The gate supervisor received a call through his headset.

He listened.

Then his face tightened.

“Corporate is asking whether the inspector can be moved to the lounge while we reset the cabin.”

“No.”

Everyone looked at me.

I held up the electronic case from beneath my seat.

Orange juice had streaked across the exterior.

“This equipment must be inspected for damage before anybody attempts departure.”

Richard stared at it.

“What equipment?”

I opened the latches.

Inside sat a compact environmental recorder, inspection sensors, data storage modules, and two tamper-evident evidence containers.

Victoria looked sick.

The gate supervisor whispered, “Oh.”

I removed the recorder carefully.

A small green indicator was still blinking.

Richard frowned.