Termination for gross negligence voids all company matched contributions. Miller’s eyes went wide. My pension. That’s That’s over a million dollars. It’s gone, Captain. Sarah said, “The company is clawing it back to pay for the operational costs of this grounded flight and the refunding of all passengers.
You are leaving with nothing but your 4001k contribution, which, looking at the market today, isn’t much.” “Surrender your insignia,” Marcus commanded. With trembling fingers, Captain Miller unpinned the gold wings from his chest. He placed them in Marcus’ outstretched hand. “Get off my plane,” Marcus said. The three of them, Jessica, weeping, Brad, shell shocked, and Miller broken, gathered their bags.
Two Port Authority officers stepped onto the plane. They didn’t arrest them yet, but they escorted them off. The walk down the aisle was brutal. The passengers who had been silent witnesses to the abuse earlier now acted as the jury. “Good riddance!” a woman in row four shouted. “Shame on you,” a man in row 8 yelled as they stepped off the jet bridge into the rain.
The cabin felt lighter. The air felt cleaner. But there was one person left. Eleanor Vanderhovven stood by her seat in 1B. She hadn’t moved. She was clutching her Louis Vuitton dog carrier like a shield. She watched the crew leave, her face a mask of disbelief. She couldn’t process that the system, the system that had always protected her, had just devoured its own enforcers.
When Marcus turned to her, she straightened her spine. She adjusted her white fur coat. She put her sunglasses back on even though it was dark. Well, Eleanor said, her voice shrill, but trying to sound bored. That was quite a show, Marcus. Very theatrical. I suppose you think you’ve made your point. I have, Marcus said.
Good, she sniffed. Now, obviously, I cannot fly with this airline anymore. The service is appalling. I will be taking my business to British Airways. I expect my refund processed immediately, and I want a car arranged to take me to Tetro. I’ll charter a private jet. Clearly, commercial flying has become too urban for my tastes.
She tried to step past him. Marcus stepped sideways, blocking the aisle. You aren’t going to Tata,Elellanena, Marcus said. Excuse me. She glared at him over her sunglasses. Get out of my way. You fired your staff. You can’t fire a customer. I can ban a customer, Marcus said. But that’s the least of your problems. He tapped his phone screen again.
The large monitor changed. The legal documents vanished, replaced by a web browser showing a financial news ticker and a copy of a legal trust document. You said something earlier, Marcus said, his voice dropping to a conversational dangerous volume. You said I know Jonathan Vance. You said you were people of status.
I am, she snapped. I am a Vanderhovven. My name is on libraries. Your husband’s name is on libraries. Marcus corrected. Your name is on the credit card bills. He pointed to the screen. Sarah, are you still there? I am, Mr. Thorne, the lawyer replied. And I have Mr. Arthur Penhaligan on the line as well.
He is the executive of the Vanderhovven Family Trust. Eleanor froze. The color drained from her face so fast she looked like a corpse. Arthur, why? Why are you talking to Arthur? Mrs. Vanderhovven. A new voice came over the speakers. An elderly, stern male voice. This is Arthur. I have been watching the live stream of this incident.
It was sent to me by three separate board members in the last 10 minutes. Arthur, listen. It’s a misunderstanding. Eleanor shrieked, panic, finally cracking her facade. This man provoked me. He’s a thug. He attacked the crew. The video shows otherwise, Eleanor, Arthur said heavily. The video shows you abusing staff, shouting racial slurs, and attempting to commandeer an aircraft.
It is a spectacle. A disgusting spectacle. So what? She screamed. I’m rich. I can do what I want. That’s where you’re wrong. Marcus interrupted. He gestured to the highlighted text on the screen behind him. Clause 7B of your late husband’s trust. Marcus read aloud. The beneficiary, that’s you, Eleanor, shall receive a monthly stipend and housing allowance solely on the condition that they maintain the moral standing and reputation of the Vanderhovven family.
Any public act of scandal, criminal behavior, or gross moral turpitude shall result in the immediate and permanent dissolution of all financial support. Eleanor’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The board has convened, Eleanor. Arthur said, “We have invoked clause 7B. As of 5 minutes ago, your credit cards have been cancelled.
Your access to the accounts is revoked. The trust is reclaiming the penthouse on Park Avenue. We will be changing the locks by morning.” You You can’t leave me with nothing,” Eleanor wailed, the sound piercing the cabin. “I have nothing else. I have no money of my own.” “You should have thought about that before you tried to treat a human being like luggage,” Marcus said coldbloodedly.
“You wanted to play the do you know who I am game?” “Well, now we know. You’re nobody.” Marcus looked toward the door. officers. Two Port Authority Police officers walked down the aisle. They weren’t smiling. “Mrs. Vanderhovven,” the [clears throat] lead officer said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.
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