Someone in the crowd let out a long, low sigh.
"What a mess! Publicly dumped, can't afford luxury earrings, and the girl's clearly having a full-blown meltdown. Look at that busted suitcase. What's even in there? Maybe a couple hundred grand in antiques, if anything? That's pocket change for the Martinez family."
Grayson didn't even bother hiding the look of disgust spreading across his face.
"Lucy, do you even have any idea what the Martinez Group is worth?" he asked coldly, "Do you understand the kind of value we're talking about?"
He gestured toward my suitcase with a sneer that made my skin crawl.
"Forget that pile of broken porcelain. You could fill ten of those cases with antiques, and I'd still..."
I didn't let him finish. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and scrolled until I found the contact with a cryptic string of encoded characters. I tapped the call button and raised the phone to my ear.
It only rang a few times before a gravel-deep voice answered, "Who is this?"
I kept my face calm and unreadable and spoke clearly.
"Dr. Linden. Item code 'Project Odyssey-9.' It's broken."
For a split second, everything went still.
Three full seconds ticked by in dead silence.
Then, that calm voice suddenly shot up in pitch, full of panic and disbelief.
"What?! What did you just say? Project Odyssey-9 is broken? That's impossible! Where are you?!"
I opened my mouth to answer, but Brittany beat me to it, her voice loud and theatrical for the whole crowd to hear.
"Oh, please! It's just some cracked porcelain. Don't start throwing around spooky code names like you're in a spy movie. Project Odyssey? Sure. And I'll call it 'Project Basement' if I feel like it."
Then, Brittany folded her arms and smirked. "You think anyone's scared? Go on! Let's see who's bluffing."
I couldn't be bothered with her lack of manners. But since she wanted it so much, I gave her exactly what she asked for.
"Summit International Airport," I said, loud and clear. "Terminal 1, Gate A."
On the other end of the line, Dr. Linden's voice changed instantly. The panic was gone, replaced by full-on military urgency.
"Do not move. Stay exactly where you are. Secure the site immediately. No one goes near that box. Deploy the security team. Lock down Summit International. Maximum alert."
Then, he said, "Contact the highest-ranking airport security official. Bring in the national heritage experts. Top-level clearance. Right now!"
The line went dead afterward.
The air around me thinned as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the terminal.
And yet Grayson still didn't believe it. His stare was narrow and sharp, his voice full of irritation and disbelief.
"Lucy, are you done with this little show? All this drama just to try and squeeze money out of Brittany? Unbelievable."
Then, he let out a dry, mocking scoff. "Breaking off the engagement was the smartest decision I've ever made. I can't believe Uncle Conrad raised someone so uncivilized."
Just behind him, Brittany stood tall, glowing and radiating smugness.
"Exactly," Brittany chimed in like she was giving the closing line of a TV drama. "Keep faking it all you want. You won't cry until you hit rock bottom. And guess what? I'm ready to watch."
She purred with a smirk. "You might as well drop to your knees and beg me, but it won't change anything now."
Murmurs once again surrounded us. People watched as if they were awaiting the big crash, the ultimate humiliation.
And then it happened.
Less than five minutes later, a shrill wail split the air, piercing, high-pitched, and rapidly approaching.
There were sirens.
Not one, but an entire convoy.
"Clear the area! All unauthorized personnel, step back!"
The commands echoed through the terminal, sharp and commanding. Then, a wave of armed tactical officers stormed in with their uniforms bearing aerospace division insignias.
In seconds, they had the entire area on lockdown.
The crowd backed off in stunned silence, faces pale, eyes wide.
Grayson, who had been puffed up with power and pride just moments earlier, suddenly turned pale. His eyes shot to me and then slowly lowered to the suitcase at my feet.
His jaw tightened. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple.
Brittany's grin? Gone and replaced by a blank stare of pure disbelief.
And then, just like that, panic.
Only now did it start to click for her.
Only now did she begin to grasp what she'd done.
She hadn't just knocked over a fragile keepsake.
She hadn't just broken a fancy dish.
She had destroyed a national treasure.
And by the time that realization finally settled in?
It was already far too late.
