Chapter 3 - The Mid-Air Negotiation
The flight to Denver was eight hours long, and for the first three, they existed in a state of precarious tension. Damon remained in the middle seat, forced to witness the reality of Cassandra’s life—a life he had been entirely absent from.
He watched her pull out a small bag of Cheerios and a juice box. He watched her manage Violet’s sudden bout of crankiness with a patience that made him feel like a coward. He was a billionaire, a man who commanded legions of high-paid consultants, but he didn't know how to calm a crying child. He felt utterly, humiliatingly powerless.
"I need to talk to Nora," he said suddenly, looking at his phone.
"Go ahead," Cassandra said. "But don't expect me to be impressed by your conference calls."
Damon tapped out a text message to his Chief Strategy Officer. Delay the Merritt meeting. Do not sign anything. I am dealing with an emergency.
Nora replied almost instantly: Damon, we are at the deadline. If we don't sign by midnight, the board will revolt. The partners are already in the boardroom.
Damon typed: Let them revolt. I’m not coming.
He set the phone down and turned to Cassandra. "That deal? The medical data platform? It’s for neonatal care. My sister… she died in a hospital that didn't have the tech to keep her alive. I built this company to change that."
Cassandra paused, her hand hovering over Violet’s back. "You never told me about your sister."
"I never told anyone," he admitted. "I didn't want people to see me as a victim of circumstance. I wanted to be the man who owned the circumstance."
"That’s why you left Denver, isn't it?" she asked, her voice softening. "You didn't just want the promotion. You wanted to be powerful enough that you’d never feel helpless again."
Damon nodded. "It wasn't about the money, Cass. It was about control."
"And how does that feel?" she asked, gesturing to the cramped cabin. "Being in control?"
Damon looked at the twins, his children, who were currently oblivious to the fact that their existence was the most significant discovery of his entire life. "I’ve never felt more out of control in my life."
Cassandra sighed, a sound of profound exhaustion. "Good. Maybe that’s a start."
As the plane continued its ascent into the night, the cabin lights dimmed. Luke moved in his sleep, his head drifting until it landed on Damon’s shoulder. Damon froze, his entire body going rigid. He looked down at the mop of sandy-brown hair, the child’s breathing warm against his suit jacket.
A strange, unfamiliar sensation bloomed in his chest—not the thrill of a deal, not the rush of an IPO, but something deeper. A tether. A connection that was biological, primal, and absolute.
Cassandra watched the interaction, her expression unreadable. She didn't pull Luke away. She just leaned back in her seat, her head resting against the headrest, and closed her eyes.
"Don't get too attached," she whispered, her voice tight. "We’re getting off this plane, and then you’re going back to your life. And we’re going back to ours."
"That’s not going to happen," Damon said, his resolve hardening.
"Damon," she said, opening her eyes to reveal the pain she had been hiding. "You can’t just walk back into a life you abandoned. You don't have the keys."
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"Then I'll build a new one," he replied. "With you. With them."
Cassandra didn't answer. She just turned her face toward the window, her silhouette a sharp, dark line against the stars.
