Chapter 1
She swallowed.
“I sent seven letters, Damon.”
The cabin seemed suddenly too warm.
Luke had returned to coloring on his tray table, apparently satisfied that the angry man his mother once knew was no longer particularly interesting. Violet was turning one soft ear of her elephant between her fingers.
I lowered my voice.
“You’re saying you told me?”
“I’m saying I tried to.”
She opened the envelope carefully. Inside was another envelope, still sealed, stamped across the front in red.
RETURN TO SENDER.
NO FORWARDING ADDRESS.
I read the words twice.
Then a third time.
My mouth went dry.
“I moved from that apartment four months before this.”
“I know that now.”
“You had my number.”
“I had your old number.”
“You knew where I worked.”
Her eyes hardened, but there was more exhaustion than anger in them.
“I called.”
“How many times?”
“At first? A lot.”
“And?”
“I never got through to you.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It didn’t make sense to me either.”
I sat back.
Prescott Technologies had never been a difficult company to contact. Even before we grew into what it was now, there had been assistants, receptionists, directories, email accounts.
Cassandra gave a small, humorless smile.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“That I should have tried harder.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I was thinking exactly that.
She looked toward the darkened airplane window.
“I thought that too. For a long time.”
The words landed differently than an accusation would have.
I looked down at the envelope again.
“What happened when you called the office?”
“The first time, someone told me you were traveling. The second time, I was transferred to an assistant. After that, I kept getting the same answer.”
“What answer?”
“That you didn’t wish to speak with me.”
For the first time since she had told me the twins were mine, I felt something colder than shock.
“Who said that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t remember the name?”
“She said she worked in your executive office. I was twenty-six weeks pregnant, Damon. I was sleeping three hours a night and trying to keep my job. I wasn’t writing down the names of receptionists.”
I rubbed a hand across my face.
At the time, my executive office had consisted of four people.
My chief of staff, Martin Vale.
My assistant, Jessica Trent.
My father, who still held the title of chairman even though he had already stepped away from daily operations.
And me.
No one else had authority to speak for me.
“Did you ever email?”
“Yes.”
“To which address?”
“The company one you used when we were together.”
That account had been deactivated during a security overhaul after a phishing incident.
I had assumed everyone important had my replacement.
Then another thought came.
“You knew my mother.”
Cassandra’s expression changed.
Very slightly.
But I saw it.
“What?”
“I contacted her.”
I stared at her.
“You contacted my mother?”
“Twice.”
“And?”
“The first time, she told me you were overseas and that you were under enormous pressure.”
“That sounds like her.”
“The second time…” Cassandra stopped.
“What did she say?”
She looked down at Luke.
Luke was drawing what appeared to be a purple airplane with enormous yellow wings.
“Not here.”
Something in her tone told me not to push.
A flight attendant passed with water. Cassandra asked for two cups. Luke immediately announced that he wanted apple juice instead.
“You already had apple juice,” Cassandra said.
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
Luke considered this.
“Before now.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Cassandra looked at me.
Then she laughed too.
It was brief.
Barely there.
But for one dangerous second, we were twenty-eight again, sitting on the kitchen floor of our tiny rental apartment because neither of us had remembered to buy chairs.
The memory vanished as quickly as it came.
Violet looked at me over the edge of her elephant.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Your brother is very persuasive.”
“He’s silly.”
“I am not,” Luke protested.
“You put socks on your hands.”
“They were gloves.”
“They were socks.”
Luke looked at me.
“They worked.”
I found myself smiling.
“They sound like gloves to me.”
He beamed.
Cassandra studied me, and I couldn’t read her expression.
Then the seat belt sign came on.
The captain announced that we would be landing in Denver in approximately forty minutes.
Denver.
The deal.
I had almost forgotten.
My phone remained useless at thirty thousand feet, but the moment we landed, the acquisition team would be waiting.
For nine months, every hour of my life had pointed toward midnight.
Now midnight felt absurdly small.
“Why are you going to Denver?” I asked.
Cassandra hesitated.
“To see my sister.”
“Emily lives there?”
“She moved last spring.”
“For Christmas?”
“Yes.”
Luke lifted his crayon.
“Aunt Emmy has a tree that touches the ceiling.”
“It does not touch the ceiling,” Cassandra said.
“It almost does.”
“It’s six feet tall.”
“That’s almost the ceiling.”
I looked at Cassandra.
“And after Christmas?”
“We go home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Bend.”
“Oregon?”
She nodded.
I almost laughed again, though there was nothing funny about it.
For three years, my children had lived a three-hour flight away.
Not another country.
Not another continent.
Bend, Oregon.
“How did I not know?”
Cassandra’s expression softened despite herself.
“Because our lives became very separate.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
The plane began descending.
My ears popped.
Luke pressed his face toward the window.
“Lights!”
Denver stretched beneath us in grids of gold.
I looked at the twins instead.
Every instinct I had built my adult life around demanded action.
Call lawyers.
Order records.
Demand explanations.
Confirm paternity.
Identify who had intercepted the calls.
Control the situation.
But Violet yawned into her elephant.
Luke asked Cassandra whether Denver had dinosaurs.
And for perhaps the first time in my career, I understood that moving quickly could be another way of not thinking carefully.
So I said the sentence that took more restraint than any negotiation I had ever conducted.
“What do you need from me tonight?”
Cassandra looked genuinely surprised.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
She studied my face.
“Nothing.”
“That can’t be true.”
“It is.”
“They’re my children.”
“They may be.”
“You just said they are.”
“I know who their father is. You’ve had five minutes to absorb that information.”
I understood the distinction.
“You want a DNA test.”
“I want you to have one.”
“I don’t need one.”
“You do.”
“Cassandra—”
“You do,” she repeated quietly. “Not because I doubt anything. Because someday, if this becomes difficult, I don’t want you wondering whether you built a relationship with them because of a resemblance and a date on a calendar.”
I glanced at Luke.
Same eyes.
Same dimple.
Even the way he frowned at a stubborn crayon mark looked uncomfortably familiar.
Still, Cassandra was right.
“I’ll do it.”
She nodded.
“And until then?”
“You can meet them.”
“I’ve met them.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
The wheels struck the runway.
Luke cheered.
Several passengers laughed.
Violet clapped because Luke was clapping.
And somewhere inside me, a locked door seemed to move half an inch.
When the plane reached the gate, my phone connected instantly.
Thirty-eight messages.
Twelve from legal.
Nine from the board.
Six from my chief financial officer.
Four from Martin Vale.
Three from my mother.
One from the driver waiting outside.
And three miscellaneous messages I didn’t read.
The latest from Martin was blunt.
CALL ME NOW.
MERRITT’S BOARD IS IN SESSION. WE HAVE FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES.
I stared at it.
Cassandra was gathering coloring books and crackers.
Luke had somehow lost one shoe.
Violet was asleep against her shoulder.
I typed a response.
Move the meeting to video.
Martin replied almost instantly.
IMPOSSIBLE.
I wrote:
Then make it possible.
My phone rang.
Martin.
I declined the call.
Cassandra noticed.
“You should answer.”
“I will.”
“Damon.”
“What?”
“If you lose a seven-hundred-million-dollar deal because you’ve suddenly discovered you have children, you will eventually resent someone.”
“I won’t resent them.”
“I didn’t say you would resent them.”
She zipped the bag.
“You might resent yourself.”
I hated how well she still understood me.
“I can do both.”
“Then do both.”
She said it simply.
No test.
No dramatic demand.
Just do both.
I took the phone and called Martin.
He answered before the first full ring.
“Where are you?”
“On the plane.”
“The Merritt board is ready to vote.”
“Set up the secure conference room at the airport lounge.”
“Damon, they expect you downtown.”
“They can expect whatever they like. I’ll join remotely.”
Silence.
Then Martin said, “Is something wrong?”
I looked at Cassandra.
“No.”
It was the strangest truth I had spoken all day.
“Something changed.”
I ended the call.
At baggage claim, I found the children’s suitcase before Cassandra did.
It was yellow, covered in stickers.
Luke pointed.
“That’s ours!”
“I guessed.”
“How?”
“It has your name on it.”
He looked impressed by this feat of deduction.
Violet, now awake, stared solemnly at my coat.
“You’re shiny.”
I looked down.
A streak of silver glitter from her craft bag covered my sleeve.
“So I am.”
She touched it cautiously.
“Pretty.”
“Thank you.”
Cassandra turned away, but I saw her smile.
A man in a navy coat approached.
My driver.
“Mr. Prescott.”
He glanced at Cassandra and the children.
“The car is waiting.”
“I’m taking them to their destination first.”
Cassandra immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“It’s snowing.”
“My sister is coming.”
“How far away?”
“She texted twenty minutes ago. Traffic is backed up.”
Luke was sitting on his suitcase now.
“I’m hungry.”
Cassandra sighed.
I looked toward the airport lounge.
“Come upstairs.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I have a meeting.”
“So go.”
“There’s food.”
She gave me a long look.
“You want me to sit outside your business meeting with two toddlers?”
“No. I want my children to eat something before midnight.”
The words came out before I could reconsider them.
My children.
Cassandra’s eyes flickered.
Then she looked away.
“Fine.”
The private lounge had a small family room near the conference suites. Someone found macaroni, fruit, milk, and, to Luke’s delight, cookies shaped like snowmen.
I sat on a video call fifteen feet away while my entire professional life tried to reclaim my attention.
Merritt’s CEO appeared on screen.
Lawyers discussed indemnification.
Bankers discussed bridge financing.
My CFO whispered urgently about Calder’s revised offer.
And through the glass wall behind my laptop, I could see Luke attempting to stack apple slices while Violet fed part of her cookie to the stuffed elephant.
Cassandra looked up once.
Our eyes met through the glass.
I lost the thread of the conversation.
May you like
“Damon?” the Merritt CEO said.
I returned my attention to the screen.
