She pressed the call button. Rebecca returned with a practiced smile.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Angela’s tone was even. “Why did you refuse me champagne, but served my seatmate without issue?”

Rebecca faltered. “I—I must have misspoken. A mix-up.”

Angela’s eyes narrowed. “A mix-up? You said it wasn’t available. Then you poured his.”

She gestured toward 3B. The man glanced up, uncomfortable.

Rebecca flushed. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean to discriminate?” Angela’s voice carried just enough for nearby passengers to hear. “Because that’s exactly how it felt.”

The surrounding cabin grew quiet. Rebecca’s cheeks burned. She had handled irritated passengers before, but this was different. Angela leaned forward.