“I have a first‑class ticket,” Kesha repeated quietly, extending her pass again.

Janelle snatched it like confiscated contraband, holding it to the light.

“Mhm. Sure you do.” She turned to the cabin, voice rising. “We’ve got a seating issue up here.”

The businessman in 1C raised his phone, hovering over the record button. The elderly woman in 1D whispered to her husband, certain she’d seen situations like this before. Janelle flipped her phone to selfie mode.

“Hey everyone,” she said to a live audience, “working a little drama in first class. Passenger believes she can sit wherever she wants.”

The viewer count ticked up: 23…47…89.

“Security to Gate 12A,” Janelle said into her headset, never breaking eye contact. “We have a passenger refusing to move to her assigned seat.”

Kesha stayed motionless. When she reached for her wallet, a platinum charge card caught the light.