Sunlight poured through the oval windows of the private plane, casting a golden glow over the plush leather seats and polished wood paneling. The hum of the engines was a soft, constant presence, almost like a purr. Outside, the sky was a brilliant, unbroken blue, stretching endlessly while occasional wisps of cloud drifted lazily by.
A flight crew pushed her cart through the door and smiled welcomingly at them, a bottle of Dom Pérignon in one hand. They were approximately thirty-five thousand feet above. And apparently, if you’re that high in the sky and is also onboard a Boeing worth more than half a billion, the only drink acceptable would be a ten thousand dollar bottle of champagne.
The attendant uncorked the bottle, releasing a delicate plume of mist, and started pouring the golden
