BILLION DOLLAR WALI GALT

Three hours into the flight to Vancouver, flight attendant Lara Smith strode toward seat 31F in high heels, her face wearing a professional smile but her voice as cold as Siberian wind. "Ma'am, your bag must go into the overhead bin. It's airline policy." Vina Chopra didn't look up, her fingers rapidly tapping her phone screen. "I'm waiting for a call—my parents are in the hospital. They might not make it. There's medicine in that bag." "The captain won't change course for your family emergency," Lara snapped, raising her voice by eight degrees as she grabbed the dark green handbag. Vina shot to her feet, eyes red-rimmed. "You have no idea how hard I've fought to get here!" In the struggle, Vina stumbled backward, crashing into the bathroom door and falling inside. Passengers turned, some whispering in shock. "Shameless!" Lara declared to the onlookers, smirking. "Think shedding a few tears earns special treatment? Is the whole world performing tragic dramas now?" From inside the restroom came muffled sobs. "I'm not—I just want to see them one last time... I flew all the way from India. I didn't book first class because it was sold out—not because I couldn't afford it..." Just then, male flight attendant Daniel approached quietly, holding the passenger manifest. His gaze settled on the damp sleeve of Vina’s shirt. Softly, he said, "She's the daughter of Vivan Chaudhary. Founder of Chaudhary Group—one of the world's top five medical device companies. Last year, he donated thirty-seven hospitals along border regions." The cabin fell silent. Lara’s smile froze. "Her father had a hemorrhagic stroke yesterday. Her mother is in ICU with heart failure. She canceled her private jet, gave up chauffeured service, and chose to fly commercial—to 'feel what it's like to carry the weight of an ordinary life.'" The bathroom door opened. Vina stepped out, tear-streaked but standing tall. "I didn't ask for privilege. I just... didn't want to be treated like air." Phones rose around her, flashes exploding like stars. Lara’s lips twitched. Finally, she muttered, "Guess you're just lucky to be born rich." Vina smiled then—a tired, bloodshot gaze locking onto Lara’s. "Then what do you have? Besides that uniform and your arrogance?" Engines roared as the plane began its descent. But this storm had only just landed.