The next morning, I arrived at the airport with a heart full of apprehension and hope. The private jet stood ready on the tarmac, its sleek lines glinting in the morning sunlight. I checked my watch anxiously; Michael was already an hour late.
After my talk with Michael last night, I called Antonio to let him know how it had gone and that Michael had agreed.
I paced back and forth, my mind racing with worry. I tried calling him again, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Each unanswered call sent my heart sinking further. His children were Aria’s only chance at survival. If something had gone wrong…
"Ma'am, is everything alright?" the pilot asked, stepping out of the jet. His concern mirrored my own.
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "We can't wait much longer. If they don't arrive soon
