Chapter 2

Three days later, Airport Administration Building, Conference Room A.

The long conference table was packed with executives from every department, the atmosphere thick with tension.

Next month, the Federal Aviation Administration would conduct its annual top-tier safety evaluation—a critical assessment that would directly determine next year's route allocations and budget approvals.

I sat in the tower representative's seat, gripping a thick document.

Three months of late nights had gone into this—five years of extreme weather data analyzed and synthesized into an independent "Thunderstorm Weather Approach Optimization Protocol."

This protocol could reduce flight delays during severe weather by at least twenty percent.

Dominic sat at the head of the table, speaking with his usual confidence. Lily sat demurely at an angle behind him, tablet in hand, occasionally casting adoring glances his way.

"For this FAA evaluation, we need to present something substantial—a real innovation." Dominic's gaze swept around the room, lingering on my face for exactly one second before moving on.

"After thorough assessment by Operations, we've decided to submit the 'Thunderstorm Weather Approach Optimization Protocol' as our core project."

I raised an eyebrow slightly. That was my project.

"Furthermore," Dominic continued, his voice rising with enthusiasm, "the preliminary concept and data compilation for this project were completed by our Operations newcomer, Lily.

"Despite being here only a short time, she's demonstrated exceptional professional capability. Therefore, the primary authorship for this submission will go to Lily."

The conference room went silent. A few department heads who knew the truth exchanged glances, but given Dominic's position, no one spoke up.

Lily rose to her feet, her expression a perfect blend of shyness and excitement.

"Thank you for the recognition, Director. Actually, this protocol represents everyone's collective effort. I only made a small contribution."

Watching her performance made my stomach turn.

"Small contribution?" My voice cut through the quiet—not loud, but sharp in the stillness.

Every eye in the room snapped to me.

Ignoring the stares, I dropped my document onto the table with a heavy thud.

"Lily, since you claim this is your concept, perhaps you can explain the algorithmic model for wind shear warning thresholds in Chapter Three? In crosswinds exceeding thirty-five knots, what should the approach radar's delay compensation parameters be?"

Lily's face went pale. Her mouth opened and closed before she turned helplessly toward Dominic.

"I... those specific data points were system-generated. I was primarily responsible for the strategic framework..."

"Strategic framework?"

I cut her off. "Aviation safety doesn't deal in vague frameworks. It deals in data precise to the millisecond. You can't even recite basic approach parameters, yet you're telling me this is your protocol?"

"That's enough, Evelyn!" Dominic slammed his hand on the table, his expression hardening.

He stood and walked toward me, his voice controlled but cold.

"Ms. Sinclair, you're a tower controller. Everyone here knows tower work means executing system directives, not driving operational strategy.

"Lily, as part of Operations, developed this from a strategic perspective. You assisted with technical implementation. I don't see the issue."

I looked at him—this man I had once loved—and found his expression unbearably foreign.

"Assisted with implementation?" A bitter laugh escaped me. "Three months. One hundred and seventy hours of overtime. Twenty thousand lines of code tested line by line, alone in the tower equipment room. And you're calling that 'assistance'?"

Impatience flickered across Dominic's face. He moved closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.

"Evelyn, don't do this here. You know how important this recognition is for Lily's career. You're already Chief Controller—you don't need another credential on your resume. Think about the bigger picture."

The same manipulation, dressed up as reasonableness.

Always the same—casually erasing my work, then using "the bigger picture" and our relationship to silence me.

When I didn't respond, he must have thought I was yielding as usual. He reached out to touch my shoulder, his voice softening.

"Come on. Let's not make this difficult. Tonight I'll take you to that French place you like. We can talk this through properly."

As his hand approached, revulsion surged through me.

Crack!

I slapped his hand away hard. The sound echoed through the conference room. Collective gasps filled the air.

Dominic stared at his reddened hand, genuine shock on his face. "What the hell—"

I stood, meeting his eyes with cold clarity. "Don't. Touch. Me."

Then, looking straight at him, I added quietly, "You make me sick, Dominic."

Without another glance at him or the stunned faces around me, I grabbed my documents and walked out.

The sharp click of my heels against the floor sounded final—like the last seconds ticking down before I severed my past completely.