Chapter 14 #2
My eyes rolled as I folded my arms tightly across my chest. “Go on. Only two minutes.”
My mind already drifted to my backup plan—sneaking into Dannie’s suite, finish the charts, figure out something else. Maybe I could charter a flight—no, too easy to track. Maybe—
“Someone stole my passport and wallet—”
Scam.
Every Malaysian public service announcement ever flashed through my head. Trafficking. Fake tickets. Organ harvesting. My gut screamed no.
“—June Bennet.”
“Wait. What? That’s not how it works. Tickets are non-transferable.”
I’d already tuned out halfway through her speech, mentally labeling her as a very committed con artist. Now she was dragging my name into this? Cute.
“My name is June Bennet.” The girl repeated, more steady this time.
“What kind of sick joke is this? My name is June Bennet.” I let out a wicked-witch laugh. “You scammers really go above and beyond for a few hundred dollars.”
“I’m not a scammer.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
Reaching for the phone dangling from her lanyard around her neck, she shoved it toward me. “Look. This is me.”
A gallery of social media posts, travel photos, what looked like legitimate documents appeared. Then finally—
A confirmed booking.
Penang to Shanghai.
The exact route I needed.
With June Bennet printed in bold letters.
My chest tightened. I stared at her face, then the ticket, then her again. If this were a scam, it was the most elaborate one ever orchestrated—planning, stalking, psychological profiling, a sprinkle of black magic.
“Look,” she continued, “I’m just backpacking through Asia. But someone stole my—”
“Wait,” I cut in, “you and I actually share the same name?”
“Yes. I was shocked when I overheard your conversation earlier. I really need some money or I’ll be sleeping on the street tonight.”
She’d mentioned it before. All her cash gone. Not enough in the bank to buy a replacement ticket.
“This could work,” I murmured.
“That’s what I was talking about.”
After we exchanged numbers, she followed me to the check-in desk where I took her place—the British June Bennet.
The staff looked at me like I’d materialized a ticket out of thin air, but they didn’t question it.
They processed my details and handed me a physical boarding pass—still used in this charmingly outdated airport.
“Have a pleasant journey,” they said, bowing and smiling as they closed the desk behind me.
It was last call. I was their final passenger.
“How much do you need for it?” Only then did it hit me—we hadn’t discussed a price at all.
“It cost me around $375. If you could give me anything close to that, it would be great.”
The girl hurried along beside me, practically jogging to match my pace as I beelined for the security gate. The rucksack bounced behind her, the straps slipping off her shoulders every few steps.
The decision was already made—I’d pay her the moment I had a chance, whether I made it onto the plane or was dragged away by airport security for identity fraud.
“What about after that? What are you going to do for money?” I asked. It wasn’t my business, but the question slipped out anyway, carried by my lingering guilt.
“I had a teaching job lined up in Shanghai. But I needed to get there first.”
“Teaching what?”
“English and literature.”
“Right…”
Two uniformed officers stood ahead, checking the passports of a couple traveling with far too many shopping bags. My stomach tightened. What if they looked at my face, then the ticket, then did the math? What if my whole plan collapsed right here?
“What if they stop me at the boarding gate?” The question slipped out in a whisper, my throat suddenly dry.
“Pay me when you get to Shanghai,” she said breezily, then corrected herself with a grimace, “but preferably earlier. Maybe once you get on the plane. I really don’t want to sleep on the airport floor tonight.”
Before turning the corner into the security lane, I shoved every bill I had into the girl’s hand. I hadn’t counted it—maybe RM200? RM300? Enough for a decent room with clean sheets and a warm shower.
“I’ll transfer you the rest!” I shouted over my shoulder as security waved me through. The reply barely registered—my pulse drowned out everything.
Immigration felt like a slow-motion death march. But eventually, the officer stamped my passport, uninterested in my questionable life choices.
Outside the crowded gate, I sank onto the floor, back against a pillar, legs folded awkwardly as I pulled up my PayPal account. The payment details went in quickly, my thumbs shaking.
Could this be a scam? Sure. Anything was possible.
But what kind of British scammer hung around a small Malaysian airport fishing for merely $375? Who would build such an elaborate backstory for so little money?
If it was a scam, honestly… props to her. This was some Derren Brown-level psychological manipulation.
No idea how much Derren Brown charged for a show—but I typed in $1000 and hit “send”.
Guilt ate at me for most of the flight.
Guilt for leaving Dannie.
Guilt for dumping the responsibility on Nurse Anu.
I’d promised her I would make it up to her when I took over the hospital—I had no idea how, but I would figure something out. A bonus? A promotion? A vacation? She deserved all three.
And Liam… God.
If he hadn’t gone silent, if he had just told me, I wouldn’t be spiraling at thirty thousand feet, racing toward a disaster I couldn’t name.
Either way… Shanghai would have pulled me in regardless.
Ding.
A text from my namesake.
One word.
Fate.