They had threatened to report me to the FAA for fabricated mental instability if I did not comply.

I pulled up the contact directory for the Allied Pilots Association.

I found the emergency legal hotline number for our regional base in Miami.

My fingers tapped the desk as I dialed the number on my cell phone.

It was late, but the union kept a representative on call twenty-four hours a day for legal emergencies.

A man answered on the third ring.

“This is Captain Collins,” I said. “I need to speak with the duty attorney regarding a family legal dispute affecting my license.”

“One moment, Captain,” the operator said.

I waited on hold, listening to the soft static on the line.

Outside the window, a commercial jet climbed into the dark sky, its red lights blinking against the clouds.

I felt a knot of anger tightening in my stomach.

My family had always viewed my career as a resource to be tapped.

They saw my salary, my benefits, and my quiet life as public property.

The line clicked, and a deep voice came through the speaker.