“Don’t get on the plane! It’s going to explode!”

The voice was sharp and urgent, cutting through the bustle of the John F. Kennedy International Airport terminal. Dozens of travelers turned their heads, searching for the source. Near some vending machines stood a thin young man, his clothes in tatters, his hair dirty, a broken backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes were fixed on a man: a tall, elegant businessman, dressed in a navy suit and carrying an immaculate carry-on bag.

That man was  Edward Carter , a 46-year-old venture capitalist from Manhattan. His life was defined by speed: quick decisions, quick deals, quick flights. He had a direct flight booked to Los Angeles, where he was expected at a high-profile investment summit. Edward was used to ignoring the chaos of airports, but something about the boy’s shout stopped him in his tracks. People were whispering, some were laughing, others were frowning. It wasn’t unusual for a homeless kid to talk nonsense in New York, but the intensity of his tone conveyed conviction.

Edward looked around, almost expecting security to intervene. The boy didn’t run or hide. He took a step forward, his eyes wide with desperation:

—“I’m serious! That plane… it’s not safe.”

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