Chapter 2 - The Blizzard and the Interrogation
Denver International Airport was swallowed by a blinding blizzard.
Snow slammed horizontally against the massive white tent roof of the terminal as Flight 412 touched down with a heavy, shuddering thud. The pilot’s voice apologized for the icy runway conditions, announcing that all connecting gates were frozen and passengers would have to wait for mobile staircases and deicing teams.
In economy, passengers groaned. In first class, Damon Prescott was already standing before the seatbelt sign had even flickered off.
He didn't wait for the general disembarkation. He strode straight down the aisle, ignoring the protests of the flight attendants, and intercepted row fourteen just as Cassandra was struggling to pull a heavy canvas duffel bag from the overhead bin.
Without a word, Damon reached up, his long arms easily lifting the bag down and setting it on the empty seat.
Cassandra didn't thank him. She hoisted the diaper bag over her shoulder, scooped Violet into her left arm, and grabbed Luke’s small hand with her right. "Come on, kids. Stay close to Mommy."
"You're not going anywhere, Cassie," Damon said, stepping directly into her path.
"Step aside, Damon. I have a rental car to pick up, and a hotel three miles from here where my reservation is already paid for."
"In this blizzard? The interstate is shut down. No rental cars are leaving the facility. And you are certainly not staying in a cheap motel with two toddlers." Damon turned to a terrified-looking young man in a company parka who had just pushed his way through the crowd of passengers—Marcus Vance, Damon’s regional director in Denver, who had rushed to the tarmac with a security detail.
"Mr. Prescott! Sir, we had your private helicopter prepped, but the FAA grounded all flights due to visibility—"
"Cancel the helicopter. Get my private SUV armored transport brought directly to the executive jet bridge," Damon commanded, his voice slicing through the chaos of the deplaning passengers. "And reserve the penthouse suite at the Brown Palace. Have a pediatrician, a private chef, and complete winter gear for a three-year-old boy and girl waiting in the suite within the hour."
Marcus blinked, staring in sheer disbelief at Cassandra, the twins, and the massive canvas bag. "Sir? Who—"
"They are my family, Marcus. Move."
Cassandra tried to pull past him, her face flushed with anger and cold air. "I don't need your charity, Damon! I don't need your penthouse, your security detail, or your money! We managed just fine without you for three years, and we can manage tonight!"
Damon caught her wrist. His grip wasn't hurting her, but it was inescapable. The warmth of his skin sent an involuntary shiver down her spine, reminding her of a thousand nights wrapped in his arms before ambition became their executioner.
"You managed by hiding my children from me," Damon said softly, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a dangerous intensity. "You think this is about charity, Cassie? This is about the fact that for thirty-six months, I’ve been living a ghost story. You are going to get into that vehicle, you are going to come with me, and you are going to explain why every email I sent you bounced, why every letter I mailed to your mother's house was returned unopened, and why I had to find out I was a father by running into a toddler on a commercial flight."
Cassandra stopped struggling. The fight drained out of her, leaving behind a hollow, terrifying confusion.
"What... what are you talking about?" she whispered.
Damon frowned, studying her face. The genuine bewilderment in her eyes hit him like cold water. "My emails. The legal notices. The certified letters."
"I never received a single email from you," Cassandra said, her voice shaking. "After you walked out, I sent you three letters to your Seattle office. I emailed your personal address every week for two months after I found out I was pregnant. Not one of them was answered. My lawyer told me you filed for default divorce because I refused to respond to your summons!"
Damon’s blood ran cold.
Default divorce? He had never filed for divorce. His legal team had drawn up separation papers three months after she left, but he had ordered them halted the moment he realized he couldn't sign them.
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Someone had lied to him. Someone had lied to her.
And as the pieces began to click together in his razor-sharp mind, Damon realized that the betrayal wasn't just between him and Cassandra. It had been engineered from the inside.
