As they walked down the jetway, a text from their mother, Vivien, arrived on Naomi’s phone: “My beautiful girls, remember who you are. Remember whose daughters you are. Nobody can take your dignity unless you give it to them. I’m always watching. Even when you can’t see me. I love you bigger than the sky.”
The girls read it huddled together. “She meant, I’m always watching,” Jasmine whispered, excited. “She means she’s watching.”
What the girls didn’t know was that their mother was, indeed, watching. Vivien Carter was already on the plane, sitting in First Class, seat 2A. Her laptop was open, showing a split screen: on the left, the security camera feed from Gate B7; on the right, four different camera angles from inside the economy cabin, all crystal clear, all recording.
Patricia, the First Class flight attendant, approached. “Miss Carter, I’ve made a note that your daughters are in economy. I’d be happy to personally check on them throughout the flight.”
“No,” Vivien responded immediately, her voice firm. “I need the regular economy crew to handle them exactly as they would handle any other unaccompanied minors. No special treatment, no exceptions.“