“I have a first‑class ticket,” Dr. Kesha Washington replied softly, reaching into her blazer.

Janelle took the boarding pass with theatrical suspicion and pressed it back against Kesha’s chest with deliberate force. The clap of paper on fabric cracked through the cabin.

“Don’t try to sit where you’re not assigned,” Janelle said, tone cool, public, performative.

Kesha adjusted her simple blazer. An expensive watch caught the overhead light. She remained seated, unmoving.

“Have you ever been so underestimated that people miss the power right in front of them?”

10 minutes until scheduled takeoff.