Cleared for Takeoff

Chapter 9 The Question He Could Never Answer

Beasley heard every word from the stage. He repeated Winslow's objection out loud, then walked straight down to stand right in front of him, eyes locked on his face. "The hijacker never even laid a finger on Nicole before you shoved Eleanor forward to take her place. What exactly does Nicole have to complain about? And since when does she need you to play the hero for her? Winslow, remember this: the person being honored today is your wife."

Beasley's voice rang through the room, each word sharp and clear. Winslow stood there speechless, his face draining of color until it looked like bleached paper. Eleanor could see the veins standing out on the backs of his hands as he clenched them at his sides.

In the past, whenever anyone criticized him, she had always stepped in to defend him without thinking twice. This time, she stayed completely still, arms at her sides, and watched it unfold.

"Winslow, don't forget who Eleanor joined Vista Airlines for in the first place."

Beasley's voice rose on the last line, striking like a hammer. Winslow's face flushed red. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but no words came.

Nicole tried to raise her hand to speak, but Beasley cut her off sharply. "Enough. I don't want to hear another word from anyone. Meeting adjourned."

The room emptied in seconds, people filing out in an awkward hush.

Winslow lingered behind, blocking Eleanor's path with slumped shoulders and a bitter tone. "You could have said something to back me up. You made me look like a complete fool in front of everyone."

A mocking curve lifted the corner of Eleanor's mouth. She met his eyes and answered calmly, "Weren't you the one who warned me not to interrupt when you were talking to the bosses?"

He choked on his own reply. His face twitched. After a long pause, he muttered, irritation thick in his voice, "You've been acting so strange lately. Cold. You're so cold to me."

Eleanor did not even bother forcing a smile this time. She gave him a flat, lifeless look and said, "Funny. I've been thinking the exact same thing about you. The way you light up around Nicole is a lot warmer than anything you ever show me."

Winslow froze. He scrambled for an excuse, words tumbling out. "It's not me. Your parents asked me to speak up for her. They wanted me to help..."

But when his gaze met hers, those clear, knowing eyes that seemed to see straight through every lie, he shut his mouth. The guilt was written all over him.

Eleanor asked the question quietly, but her voice carried real weight. "Winslow, what were you thinking in that moment? When you pushed me out there, did it ever cross your mind that I could die?"

The last words hit him hard. His whole body jolted. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but Eleanor raised a hand to stop him.

She pulled out a folder, flipped it open to the final page, and held it toward him. "Sign it."

"What is this?"

"The official commendation form. You wanted recognition for Nicole, right? I've already signed my part. All that's left is your signature."

The moment he heard it was for Nicole, he did not even glance at the details. He grabbed the pen and scrawled his name without hesitation.

Eleanor watched how quickly he did it, and a dull ache spread through her chest. The second Nicole's name came up, everything else vanished from his mind.

She had already decided to let go, but a few stubborn threads of pain still tugged inside her. She gave a soft, bitter laugh, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with complete clarity.

"Winslow," she said, her voice steady and final, "we're getting a divorce."