Shattered Innocence

A Jet-Set Revelation

Now I understand why they were laughing. Two hours later, we arrive at a private airstrip, and waiting for us on the tarmac is a sleek private jet. The cars come to a halt in front of it, and I gather my bag, following the others onto the plane. As I step inside, I take in the luxurious surroundings.

Zack engages in a conversation with the pilot and assistant, while I find myself standing in awe. The interior of the jet is like something out of a movie. To the right, there's a spacious sitting area adorned with a plush sofa against one wall. The cushions and blankets exude comfort, and two large reclining leather chairs face each other, creating an inviting space. A table in the center holds a fruit bowl, adding a touch of elegance. The carpet beneath my feet feels soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the places I usually stay. I can't help but feel a pang of unworthiness in such a luxurious setting.

As I glance behind the sofa, I notice Yuri lounging on another one, his arm resting casually behind his head. To my left, there are two reclining chairs facing each other, accompanied by a small table. Towards the back, I spot three more chairs, all designed with lavish prints and leather. The interior is illuminated by warm, dimmed LED lights, casting a soft and soothing glow. The scent of opulence lingers in the air, enveloping me. I can even see a full-length window in the curved ceiling, capturing my attention in disbelief. There are two mahogany doors at the back, presumably leading to the restroom, though I don't dare explore them just yet.

Feeling a mix of hesitation and excitement, I carefully choose one of the luxurious chairs and settle into it. Mikhail takes a seat heavily on the sofa, immediately pulling out his laptop, while Nikolay reclines in one of the chairs at the back, already drifting off to sleep. Ivan grins at me as he passes, taking the spot next to Nikolay and reclining his own chair, engrossed in a book. They seem at ease, familiar with this extravagant environment, which leaves me curious.

Returning to our area, Zack sits in the chair across from me, crossing his legs casually. A stunning stewardess in a tailored suit closes the door with a warm smile before retreating to the galley. Zack leans closer to me, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You're probably wondering who owns this plane," he says, sensing my curiosity.