Chapter 6: Flying Above the Clouds
The sky outside the oval windows of my private Gulfstream G650 was an endless, breathtaking ocean of molten gold and deep indigo as we cruised at forty-one thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean.
The cabin was a sanctuary of cream leather, polished mahogany, and peaceful silence.
Arthur Bell sat across from me in a wide swiveling armchair, holding a crystal flute of vintage Dom Pérignon. He raised his glass, the golden light of the setting sun catching the amber liquid.
“To the woman who never needed noise to shake the world,” Arthur toasted, a deep, genuine smile warming his weathered face.
I lifted my glass, letting the delicate crystal chime softly against his.
“To knowing the difference between visibility and power, Arthur,” I replied.
I looked out through the double-pane window at the vast, infinite horizon. Below us, thousands of miles of ocean stretched out, dark and turbulent, while up here, the air was pristine, clear, and utterly calm.
