Chapter 4 - Christmas Morning at the Brown Palace
The morning sun broke over the snow-capped Rocky Mountains, flooding the presidential suite with brilliant, blinding light.
Luke was the first to wake up. Within minutes, the sound of tiny footsteps pattering across the mahogany floor echoed through the suite. Damon, who had spent most of the night sitting in an armchair by the window reviewing forensic financial reports on his tablet, looked up just as a pair of small arms wrapped around his knee.
“Angry man!” Luke announced cheerfully, looking up with bright green eyes. “My tummy is rumbling.”
Damon couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He scooped the boy up, tossing him gently into the air until Luke erupted in a fit of high-pitched giggles.
“It’s not ‘angry man,’ buddy,” Damon chuckled, setting him down gently on the plush rug. “It’s Damon. Or... well, let’s go with Daddy.”
Luke tilted his head, exactly the way Cassandra did. “Daddy?”
“That’s right,” Damon said, his chest swelling with an emotion so fierce it bordered on pain.
By the time Cassandra emerged from the bedroom, looking refreshed after her first uninterrupted night of sleep in months, room service had arrived in full force. A massive rolling cart laden with pastries, fresh fruit, hot chocolate, and traditional breakfast spreads sat in the center of the parlor. And next to it sat an enormous, beautifully wrapped mountain of gifts—dozens of them, stacked nearly as high as the table.
Cassandra stopped in her tracks, staring at the towering pile of boxes wrapped in silver and gold paper.
“Damon... what is all this?” she asked, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Santa paid a very early visit,” Damon said smoothly, pouring a cup of coffee. “Or, more accurately, I called the head concierge at 3:00 AM and had him wake up every high-end toy boutique in downtown Denver.”
Violet, who had just toddled out of the bedroom clutching her stuffed elephant, gasped at the sight of the presents. Her eyes went wide, and she let out a squeal of pure joy, instantly waddling over to the nearest box and tearing into the wrapping paper with frantic enthusiasm.
As Luke joined his sister, ripping open boxes and laughing as new toys spilled out across the floor, Cassandra walked over to Damon. The morning light caught the subtle lines of emotion on her face.
“You didn't have to buy out a department store, Damon,” she said softly, though a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“I missed three Christmases,” Damon replied, his voice dropping low as he handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “I have a lot of catching up to do. Every single day from here on out is going to make up for lost time.”
Before Cassandra could reply, Damon’s encrypted phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down at the screen. It was an encrypted text from Marcus:
Forensic audit complete. We found the offshore accounts. Julian didn't just embezzle from your personal holding—he routed funds through a dummy corporation registered under an alias. And the corporate registry address matches a residential property in Cherry Hills owned by Julian’s mistress.
Damon’s jaw tightened. The holiday warmth in the room contrasted sharply with the cold, calculated fury rising inside him.
May you like
“Everything alright?” Cassandra asked, noticing the shift in his posture.
“Everything is falling into place,” Damon said, looking back up at her with an expression of cold, unwavering determination. “Julian is about to have a very unpleasant holiday visit from my legal team.”
