The flight crew lined up to block her from boarding the private jet—smirking, questioning her credentials, and treating her like a gate-crasher

The phone rang twice before a crisp, professional voice answered on the other end.

"Vance here," Marcus said, his tone brisk as he dealt with pre-flight logistics from his office in Manhattan.

"Marcus, it's Allara Banks," she said, her voice cutting through the ambient noise of the pouring rain.

On the other end of the line, Marcus immediately dropped his papers. The sound of rustling documents stopped instantly. His professional composure shifted into one of absolute, unwavering deference.

"Dr. Banks! Good evening. We were tracking your transit from Boston. Is everything satisfactory with the ground transfer? The car should have dropped you directly at the private air stair."

Allara kept her eyes fixed on Captain Ryan Sterling, watching the smug, self-satisfied grin still plastered across his face.

"The car dropped me at the perimeter gate because of airport construction, and I walked the remaining distance," Allara said evenly. "However, I have a more pressing issue right at the foot of the aircraft."

Marcus's voice tightened with immediate concern.

"An issue, ma'am? What kind of issue? Are you being delayed by ramp control?"

"Worse," Allara replied, her voice cold as ice. "Captain Ryan Sterling and the lead flight attendant, Terra Blair, are currently blocking the boarding stairs. They have refused to let me board my own aircraft, they have accused me of being a trespassing maintenance worker, and Captain Sterling has just threatened to call airport security to have me removed."

A dead silence fell over the phone line for three seconds. In Marcus's office, a man holding multi-million dollar aviation portfolios felt his blood run cold.

"They... they what?" Marcus stammered, his voice pitching upward in disbelief. "Captain Sterling is refusing to board the owner of the vessel? Is he out of his absolute mind?"

"Apparently so," Allara said, her gaze never wavering from Ryan, who was now checking his wristwatch with an exaggerated sigh of boredom. "He believes the jet belongs to him, and he has made it abundantly clear that my appearance does not meet his aesthetic standards for VIP travel."

Marcus didn't hesitate for a single microsecond. The corporate liability, the sheer embarrassment, and the catastrophic breach of protocol hit him like a physical blow.

"Put him on speaker, Dr. Banks," Marcus ordered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "Hand your phone to Captain Sterling right now. Do not move an inch. I am handling this personally."

Allara extended her arm, holding the glowing, cracked screen right out toward the pilot.

"Captain Sterling," Allara said, her voice carrying an authority that finally made the pilot pause. "My CEO would like a word with you. Put it on speaker."

Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically, letting out a heavy sigh that communicated his supreme annoyance.

"Look, lady, I don't have time to play corporate roleplay with your imaginary friends," Ryan scoffed, folding his arms tighter. "If you don't get off this tarmac right now, I'm pressing the emergency button for Teterboro port security."