Same surname.
Maya noticed.
Beatrice noticed Maya noticing.
Something passed between the woman and the new attendant.
The man said:
“Is there a problem?”
Camille answered quickly.
“No.”
Maya stared.
That was another lie.
The male flight attendant looked at Beatrice.
“Everything fine?”
She nodded.
Maya looked at his badge again.
Laurent.
Maybe common name.
Maybe coincidence.
Her father always said not every pattern meant something.
But patterns deserved checking.
Maya asked:
“Are you related?”
Three adults froze.
That answered the question before anyone spoke.
The male attendant’s eyes narrowed.
“Related to whom?”
Maya pointed toward Beatrice.
“You have the same last name.”
Beatrice spoke sharply.
“That is enough.”
The passenger across the aisle leaned forward.
“What exactly is going on?”
Another passenger said:
“Did she take the kid’s mother’s seat?”
Beatrice’s face reddened.
Camille attempted to control the situation.
“Please remain seated.”
The man across the aisle held up his phone.
“I recorded the boarding argument.”
Beatrice turned.
“You recorded me?”
“You were shouting.”
“I was not shouting.”
“You were loud enough for Row 9.”
More passengers began paying attention.
The male flight attendant said:
“Phones down, please.”
The man laughed.
“That’s not an instruction you can just make up.”
Maya’s heart beat faster.
She looked toward Row 14.
Could her mother hear?
Probably not yet.
She wanted her.
But she also wanted to finish what she had discovered.
Camille crouched slightly.
“Maya, what exactly did you see?”
Maya appreciated that she used her name.
Maybe Camille remembered it from the boarding pass.
Maybe she was finally deciding to act correctly.
“The burgundy bag fell under her foot.”
Maya pointed.
“When I picked it up, her boarding pass fell out.”
“What seat?”
“14C.”
Camille closed her eyes briefly.
The male attendant interrupted.
“She may have been reassigned.”
Maya looked at him.
“Then why did she hide the old boarding pass?”
He did not answer.
The passenger across the aisle laughed once.
“Kid’s got a point.”
Beatrice stood.
Or tried to.
The seat belt sign remained on.
Camille immediately held out a hand.
“Ma’am, please stay seated.”
“I need to speak with the purser.”
The male attendant said:
“I am the purser.”
That created another shift.
Maya understood now.
He had authority.
And Beatrice clearly knew him.
Beatrice sat back.
Then said quietly:
“Handle this.”
The words were not a request.
Maya heard them.
So did the man across the aisle.
His eyebrows rose.
“Interesting.”
Camille looked deeply uncomfortable.
The purser turned toward Maya.
“Your mother agreed to move.”
Maya frowned.
“She agreed because you told her there was a double assignment.”
The purser said nothing.
“And there wasn’t.”
Beatrice snapped: