The first-class cabin was almost full when Eleanor Carter took her seat beside the window.
She was elegant, composed, and clearly used to being treated with respect.
A young man named Marcus stopped beside her row.
He held a boarding pass in one hand.
Eleanor looked at him.
“You’re in the wrong section.”
Marcus checked the seat number.
“No, ma’am. This is my seat.”
Eleanor frowned.
“That can’t be right.”
A flight attendant named Claire approached.
“Is there a problem?”
Eleanor pointed toward Marcus.
“He says he belongs here.”
Claire looked at his boarding pass.
Then at Eleanor.
Her expression changed.
“He does.”
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