1The man in seat 2A had less than a minute to breathe, and Evelyn Foster was the only person on the plane who noticed.

Six months later.

The morning sun flooded the terminal at O'Hare International Airport in Chicago. Passengers hurried past with rolling suitcases, coffee cups, and boarding passes, lost in the chaotic rhythm of daily travel.

Evelyn Foster stood by the window of Gate B12, dressed in a sharp, brand-new navy flight attendant uniform.

She hadn't taken the money in Geneva to retire. Instead, she had used a fraction of it to set up a global foundation funding medical emergency training for commercial flight crews worldwide. But she had returned to the air. The sky was where she belonged.

The Italian authorities had officially closed the investigation into the Villa Vitelli disaster. Leo and Sofia Vitelli had been arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment in a high-security Italian facility. Antonio Vitelli had officially been declared missing and presumed dead in the fire.

No one had heard from him since that night on the Tuscan riverbank.

"Flight 402 to London Heathrow is now ready for general boarding," the gate agent announced over the loudspeaker.

Evelyn smiled, checked her wings pinned to her jacket, and began greeting the passengers as they walked down the jet bridge.

"Welcome aboard, sir... Good morning, ma'am..."

As the final business class passengers boarded, a tall man in a charcoal suit walked down the jet bridge. He wore a dark wool overcoat, his silver-touched dark hair neatly combed, carrying a single leather briefcase.

He stopped right in front of Evelyn.

Evelyn froze. Her heart skipped three beats.

The man pulled down his sunglasses, revealing striking, familiar gray-green eyes filled with warmth and a hint of a dangerous smile.

"Good morning, Dr. Foster," Antonio whispered softly.

Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. She looked around frantically, but the other crew members were busy in the galley.

"Antonio..." she breathed, stepping closer, her voice shaking. "You're... you're supposed to be..."

"Dead?" Antonio offered a smooth, handsome smile. "The world believes Antonio Vitelli died in Tuscany. And he did. My family empire is gone. The legitimate assets were liquidated. I am just a private traveler now."

He pulled out a first-class boarding pass for Seat 2A and handed it to her. The name on the pass read: Anthony Vance.

"Seat 2A?" Evelyn let out a soft, breathless laugh, tears of joy brimming in her eyes. "Are you following me, Mr. Vance?"

"I told you once at thirty-seven thousand feet," Antonio said, leaning close enough that she could feel the warm heat of his breath against her cheek. "No one forgets the person who gives him back his life. I bought the airline, Evelyn."

Evelyn stared at him, stunned. "You... you bought the airline?!"

"It seemed easier than tracking your flight schedule every week," Antonio smiled, his eyes locked onto hers with absolute devotion. "I have a house in the countryside near London. No guards. No guns. Just olive trees and clear skies."

He held out his hand to her.

"Fly with me, Evelyn. For real this time."

Evelyn looked down at his open palm, then up into the clear, beautiful eyes of the man who had risked everything to give her freedom.