Chapter 3 - The Red-Eye Realization
The rest of the flight passed in a heavy, fragile silence.
The turbulence had settled into a steady, rhythmic thrum, but the emotional atmosphere in row twenty-eight had shifted irrevocably. Cassandra didn't push me away, nor did she welcome me back with open arms; she simply existed in the space between us, guarded, exhausted, and acutely aware that the architecture of our lives had just collapsed.
I stayed in the middle seat beside her, my shoulder brushing hers every time the plane banked slightly toward the east.
When the pilot announced our final descent into Denver International Airport, the digital clock on the bulkhead read 11:15 PM local time.
Forty-five minutes until midnight.
Forty-five minutes until the $780 million acquisition deal officially expired, handing Mercer Systems over to our fiercest rival, Calder, and effectively sealing my reputation as the unyielding titan of Prescott Technologies.
My phone remained silent in my pocket, vibrating once or twice with urgent emails that I deliberately ignored.
"You're missing it," Cassandra said quietly, her eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window as the twinkling lights of the Denver suburbs rose up to meet us.
"Missing what?" I asked, looking over at her profile.
"Your deadline," she said, her tone devoid of mockery, carrying only a sad, knowing weight. "Your COO has been emailing you every four minutes since we hit cruising altitude. I saw the screen light up when you checked on Luke."
I let out a slow, deliberate breath, watching the cabin lights reflect off the plastic window shade.
"Let it die," I said.
Cassandra turned her head sharply, her green eyes searching mine in the dim cabin light. "What?"
"Let the deal die," I repeated, the words feeling surprisingly light on my tongue, like shedding a heavy winter coat after years of walking in a blizzard. "For nine months, I told myself that acquiring that medical platform was the most important thing in the world—that it was my penance for losing my sister, proof that I could fix what was broken in emergency rooms and neonatal units."
I looked down at Luke, who was fast asleep against Cassandra’s shoulder, and then back to her.
"I was looking at monitors in hospitals across the state while my own children were growing up three hours away in Portland," I continued, my voice cracking slightly. "I spent millions trying to save stranger's babies because I couldn't face the fact that I was failing the family I hadn't even known I had. If I get off this plane and run to a boardroom to sign a piece of paper at midnight, I’m telling you and these kids that nothing has changed."
Cassandra stared at me, her lower lip trembling just a fraction. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of us spoke.
The wheels of the aircraft touched down on the tarmac with a loud screech and a heavy jolt of reverse thrusters, throwing the cabin forward against our seatbelts.
The flight attendants immediately unlatched their jump seats, and the low murmur of passengers unzipping carry-on bags filled the aisle.
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"Damon," Cassandra whispered, her voice breaking. "You spent four years building Prescott Technologies into an empire. You can't just walk away from a deal like that because of some sudden epiphany at thirty thousand feet."
"Watch me," I said.
