The Taken Helicopter

My name is Yolanda Lincoln. I used to be an ace pilot, with seven first-class merit medals under my belt. The day I retired, the wind at the airport still carried the familiar warmth of the engines. I never really left the skies; I became an off-the-books member of the National Rescue Team, part of the top tier. To ensure I could get to rescue sites as quickly as possible, the organization specially approved a brand-new rescue helicopter registered under my name, reserved solely for missions. The helicopter bears the number 'National Rescue 001' on its body, and every time I see it, the weight on my shoulders feels a little heavier. At 3:17 that afternoon, the emergency mission alert shattered the silence in the office. A cruise ship had gone missing in the East Sea, typhoon was closing in, with central winds already reaching level 15, and I had to fly the helicopter to deliver the rescue ladder. I grabbed my gear bag and ran straight to the airport, not even stopping to spit. On the way, I called Rescue Team Headquarters and told them I'd be airborne in twenty minutes at most. When I got to the airport, the ground crew had already completed the pre-flight checks and were just waiting for me to take the work log photo. I gave an 'OK' sign to the camera, just as I slipped my phone back into my pocket, when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. A woman wearing a sparkling mini skirt kicked the helicopter door open, her nails painted bright red, and pointed right at my nose as she yelled. "Who told you to touch my helicopter?!" Her voice was sharp and shrill, dripping with her usual arrogance. "I'm heading to South Island to soak up the sun today, so you'd better get off right now!" "Are the people at the airport all blind? Since when can just anyone board a helicopter to take pictures and flaunt their wealth?" I frowned at her, gripping my cell phone a little tighter. The helicopter's tail number and interior are strictly for rescue missions—it definitely doesn't look like a private jet. "Ma'am, I think you're mistaken; this is my rescue helicopter." I kept my tone steady—this mission was too important. Standing beside her was a man in a black flight suit, probably her personal trainer. He sneered as he spoke. "This is the latest helicopter Mr. Matthew Gabriel got for Miss Scott. Stop pretending and get down now." There were no official military patches on his flight suit—it was clear he was just a hired hand. I froze for a moment. Matthew Gabriel? That's the guy my parents are pushing me to marry—a notorious playboy who's always wrapped up with women. He actually treated the rescue helicopter the state assigned to me like a gift for his lover? A sudden blaze shot up from my feet to the top of my head—I was so mad I almost laughed. At first, when Mom and Dad said Matthew Gabriel was good-looking and that the Gabriel Family and the Lincoln Family were a suitable match, I didn't reject it outright. But looking back now, this isn't a proper match at all; it's clearly the Gabriel Family overreaching—and they don't even realize how lucky they are. I took a deep breath and held down my anger. If the higher-ups find out they're misusing rescue resources and obstructing disaster relief, they'd be looking at at least ten years in prison. I don't have time to waste arguing with them—the people at sea are still waiting for rescue. "This is my helicopter. You all get off right now. Any delay in the rescue, and you'll have to face the consequences." I reached out to close the cabin door, but she suddenly raised her high heel and slammed it hard against my forehead. The heel was metal, and it hit me so hard my vision went black. A lump instantly swelled on my forehead. My grip loosened, and the cabin door snapped shut. She smugly plopped into the co-pilot's seat and even made a face at me. Holding my throbbing forehead, my eyes hardened. I'm the only one who knows this helicopter's controls. Even if she's in the seat, she won't be taking off. "Are you crazy? If you want to die, don't drag others down with you." When she saw I dared to snap at her, she slapped me hard; the sharp smack echoed through the airport. "Who told you to steal my helicopter?!" Her nails scraped across my cheek, leaving a red mark. "Once you're done showing off your wealth, get lost. If you don't, I'll have people strip you naked and throw you out on the street!" The ground crew nearby tried to step in and calm things down, but Mr. Clark shot them a glare that stopped them in their tracks. I stared at her without moving, my mind fixated on the time we were losing. Every extra minute we waited put the people on the cruise ship in greater danger. Before long, she called over the airport staff and Mr. Clark, who started dragging me out of the cabin. They yanked my arm painfully, and as I struggled, my back slammed against the edge of the cabin door. They threw me out of the cabin from several meters up, and I hit the concrete floor hard on my back—pain shot through me, and I trembled all over. Sharp gravel embedded itself in my palm, and blood trickled out between my fingers. Mary Scott sat in the co-pilot seat, leaning out to look down at me, her tone dripping with contempt. "Humph, you're still too green to be snatching things from me." Mr. Clark came over and kicked my leg. "Be smart and get lost quick—stop just standing here in the way." I propped myself up on the ground, trying to stand, and yelled at the airport staff. "Are you all blind? This rescue helicopter stored here belongs to me, not Matthew Gabriel!" The low-level workers kept their heads down, their voices laced with helplessness. "How would we know? The airport in the Capital City is all owned by the Gabriel Family." "Mr. Gabriel often takes Miss Scott on trips with this helicopter; we've seen it countless times." "Miss Scott is Mr. Gabriel's love. We know her, but we don't know you." "You say the helicopter is yours? Show us the proof." I pressed my chest, gasping for breath, the pain making it hard to breathe. I should never have listened to my future mother-in-law back then, who said once we're engaged, we're like husband and wife, and told me to keep the helicopter at the Gabriel Family's airport. She said it was so Matthew Gabriel could "keep an eye" on me, to stop me from "causing trouble" out there. Great, now I can't even get my own helicopter back. "Fine, call Matthew Gabriel right now. I want to confront him face to face." "I'm his legitimate fiancee. Does he dare deny it?" Mary Scott immediately pulled out her cell phone and called Matthew Gabriel, deliberately switching to speakerphone. She wore a huge diamond ring on her finger that practically hurt your eyes when it caught the light. "Matthew, baby, there's a woman here trying to steal my helicopter, and she says she's your fiancee." Her voice instantly turned sweet and coaxing, completely different from her harsh tone just moments ago. On the other end of the phone, Matthew Gabriel's voice was icy cold, sharp as frozen steel. "Don't bother with her, she's just an ugly woman." "It was an arranged marriage by the family—I never took it seriously. Didn't expect her to show off about it everywhere, though." "There's only you in my heart, Mary. Hurry and take the helicopter to South Island—I'm here waiting for you to have dinner with me."