Final Approach to Freedom

Chapter 8

"Ready for your first international flight?" The department head handed Evelyn a file.

She took it, her fingers trembling slightly. Drawing a deep breath, she said, "I've received the dormitory arrangements. I'll adjust to the work environment in Country A as soon as possible."

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the crew briefing room. Standing before the projector, Evelyn spoke clearly, "This flight is estimated at twelve hours, passing through three weather zones..."

Her gaze lingered on the empty co-pilot’s seat. Just as the meeting was concluding, the door swung open.

A tall figure stood silhouetted against the backlight. He strode in, his uniform immaculate, the epaulets glinting coldly under the lights.

"Julian Carter," he introduced himself tersely, his voice deep. "Temporarily assigned as co-pilot for this flight."

Evelyn looked up. His mixed-race features were striking, his blue eyes as mesmerizing as the ocean depths. She quickly averted her gaze. "Welcome aboard."

Mid-flight, they hit severe turbulence. Evelyn gripped the yoke, her knuckles whitening. "Turn left fifteen degrees to avoid the cloud bank," she ordered, her voice steady.

Julian glanced at her. The rookie captain was far more composed than he’d expected.

After a smooth landing, Julian removed his headset. "Not bad. Two more assessment flights next week."

"Thanks." Evelyn loosened her collar, only then realizing her back was drenched in sweat.

Meanwhile, at the Hartley mansion.

Alexander shot up from the couch, coffee splattering across the floor. "What did you say? Where’s Evelyn?"

The butler stammered, "Madam left for an international flight this morning. Said it was a company transfer..."

Alexander pulled out his phone—Evelyn’s number was disconnected. A vein throbbed at his temple. "Find her flight details. Now!"

Sophia’s call flashed on his screen. He swiped it away irritably, snatched his car keys, and stormed out.

At the airport control tower, Evelyn was signing documents when hurried footsteps approached from behind.

"Evelyn!"

She turned to find Alexander standing three paces away, breathless, his eyes bloodshot as if he’d searched the entire airport.

"Can I help you?" she asked coolly, as if addressing a stranger.

He reached for her, but she stepped back. His voice shook. "Why did you leave without a word?"

Evelyn checked her watch. "Mr. Hartley, I have a return flight to prepare for." She turned and walked toward the boarding gate, her back resolute.

Alexander stood frozen, watching her disappear down the jet bridge. His phone buzzed again—Sophia had sent a photo of herself in a hospital bed, her ankle in a cast.

He powered it off in frustration, his gaze still locked on the plane about to take off.