CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 49
Mila

I looked around the airport, not because it was unfamiliar to me..I had been here before. Several times, actually.

But those visits were never for myself. I had only ever come to deliver food, walking through the glass doors with insulated bags hanging from my arms, eyes lowered, always in a hurry to leave.

I had never been a passenger.
Never boarded a plane, maybe when I was younger I don't know but I have never boarded one.

And now, standing right in front of me, was a private jet.
It was massive, sleek, and intimidating, gleaming under the hangar lights like something unreal. White and silver, smooth and sharp-edged, with bold lettering etched into its side.
ARMSTRONG.

The logo stared back at me, unapologetic and loud. I didn’t need anyone to tell me how expensive it was. The jet screamed money..money I had never touched, money I had never imagined, money that now surrounded my life simply because of the man walking a few steps ahead of me.

My husband.
Lance Armstrong.
He didn’t slow down or look back. He walked toward the jet like it was routine, like this was just another day in his life.
I swallowed hard and followed

The moment we stepped inside, I realized how deceptive the exterior had been. Luxurious didn’t even begin to cover it. Plush leather seats lined the cabin, soft ambient lighting glowed from above, polished glass and metal surfaces reflected elegance and control.

Everything smelled expensive...clean, sharp, untouchable.
“This isn’t real,” I whispered to myself.

“Welcome aboard, Mr and Mrs Armstrong,” the hostess greeted warmly the second we entered, her smile professional and practiced.
I nodded and smiled politely in return. Lance, on the other hand, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. He walked straight past her like she didn’t exist.

I followed quietly.
He took a seat effortlessly, confidence written into every movement. Without thinking, I sat right beside him, even though there were other empty seats scattered around the cabin.
The regret hit instantly.

Why would you do that?
I mentally face-palmed myself.
Lance glanced at me briefly, curiosity flickering in his eyes before his expression flattened. He looked away again.

“They know we’re married,” he said flatly.
“Huh…?” I blinked, confused.
“You don’t have to latch onto me,” he added dryly.
“I am not...wh—what?” I huffed, embarrassment and irritation crashing together. I stood up immediately and moved to another seat across from him, my cheeks burning.

My chest tightened.
That was true. I didn’t even know where we were headed. He had dumped this late honeymoon on me like it was nothing, no explanation, no discussion. Just instructions.

“Where are we headed?” I asked, turning to face him.
I waited.
Lance didn’t even blink.
His eyes stayed fixed on his phone, his silence louder than any answer.
I bit down hard on my lip, anger simmering.
Then the intercom crackled softly.

“Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Armstrong. This is your captain speaking, Captain Amir. On behalf of the flight crew, I’d like to welcome you aboard. We’ll be departing shortly, so please ensure your seatbelts are securely fastened. Sit back and enjoy the flight.”
My fingers curled into the armrest.

Flight.
The word alone sent panic racing through my body.
I had never been on an airplane before. Not once. And now I was sitting inside a private jet about to lift off the ground.

My heart began to pound violently against my chest, fast and erratic. I sucked in deep breaths and closed my eyes tightly, willing myself to calm down.
You’re fine. You’re fine.

“Your seatbelt, ma’am.”
I opened my eyes and met the smiling face of the hostess again. I returned a tight smile and fastened my seatbelt, my hands trembling slightly.

I glanced toward Lance.
He was still on his phone, jaw tight, expression cold and distant.
Always business.
I closed my eyes again, breathing slowly. Then I smelled it, his perfume. Strong, masculine, familiar.

Too close.
I opened my eyes quickly.
Lance was suddenly seated right beside me.
So much for latching onto him.
He didn’t acknowledge me, just leaned back like nothing had changed. After a moment, he put his phone down and turned his head slightly.

“I won’t have you faint on my jet,” he said coldly, resting his head against the seat.
That was it. That was his concern.

The intercom came on again.
“Cabin crew, please be seated for departure. Mr and Mrs Armstrong, we are cleared for takeoff. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened as we begin our ascent.”

The engines grew louder, a deep, controlled hum vibrating through the cabin.
I exhaled shakily. Sweat formed on my forehead.

“Never been on a plane?” Lance asked suddenly, glancing at me.
I stiffened.
My eyes widened, and I stayed silent.
How did he know?

“I see,” he said mockingly.
The jet began to move.
My stomach dropped instantly.
Fear wrapped around my chest, tight and suffocating. I clenched my hands together, eyes squeezed shut.

The movement intensified.
I opened my eyes with a sharp breath, sweat covering my skin. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed Lance’s hand tightly.
I didn’t care anymore.

He looked at me like I was a nuisance, but he didn’t pull away.
I was grateful for that.
But my stomach churned violently.
Nausea surged through me. I gagged, swallowing hard, fighting it.

Lance turned to me sharply.
“Don’t you dare,” he warned, anger flashing in his eyes.
His words triggered it.

The next second, I retched hard.
My body lurched forward, and before I could stop myself, I vomited.
All over his shoes.

The sound was wet and humiliating. The smell hit instantly.
The cabin fell silent.
Lance snapped.
He yanked his hand away from mine and stared at me like he wanted to tear me apart, fury blazing in his eyes, jaw clenched so tightly it trembled.

I froze in my seat, shame flooding every inch of me, tears burning behind my eyes.
This was my honeymoon.
And I had just thrown up on my husband’s shoes. What a life.