Chapter 4 - The Shattered Mirage
Steven backed up against the gate boarding counter, his hands shaking so violently he dropped his clipboard onto the floor.
"Dad, I was just enforcing company protocol!" Steven stammered, pointing a frantic finger at Ethan.
"This kid abandoned his assigned cleaning zone during peak hours! He violated the strict terminal maintenance schedule!"
"He left his post to save my life, you incompetent fool!" Harold barked, his voice echoing loudly through the concourse.
Dozens of traveling passengers cheered and applauded, their phones recording every second of the dramatic confrontation.
"Is this how Global Aviation Holdings treats its front-line workers?" Harold demanded, looking directly at the gathering crowd.
"We preach safety, hospitality, and American excellence, yet my regional director's son treats hard-working people like trash."
Gerald turned toward his son and did something that stunned everyone standing in the crowded gate area.
He reached out, yanked the official airport management badge off Steven’s suit lapel, and threw it forcefully to the ground.
"You're fired, Steven," Gerald declared, his voice trembling with humiliated rage. "Clear your desk out before security escorts you off the property."
Steven stared at his father in total disbelief, his face flushing crimson as the crowd erupted in loud taunts.
"You can't fire me! I'm your son!" Steven yelled, his voice echoing pathetically across the high glass ceiling.
"I am saving what little remains of my own career!" Gerald yelled back, refusing to look his son in the eye.
Harold watched the family drama unfold without a single trace of pity in his calm, weathered expression.
He turned his attention back to Ethan, who was standing quietly in his stained yellow work apron, utterly stunned by the madness.
"What is your name, son?" Harold asked softly, his tone completely shifting from cold authority to gentle warmth.
May you like
"Ethan, sir. Ethan Miller," the young man answered, swallowing hard as he wiped his dusty hands on his trousers.
"Well, Ethan Miller," Harold said, placing a warm hand on the young man's shoulder. "Your shift at Gate C18 is officially over."
