Chapter 5 - The Only Empire That Matters
Cassandra paused, her hand frozen on the suitcase strap. "What are you doing?"
"My phone is dead," I said, my voice steady, clear, and utterly weightless for the first time in a decade.
"Damon, the acquisition—"
"Can wait."
"It's seven hundred and eighty million dollars," she breathed, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Your entire life's work."
I stepped closer to her, ignoring the swirling snow freezing on the shoulders of my tailored wool coat. I reached out, my fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from her cold cheek, marveling at how naturally my hand fit against her skin, as if no time had passed at all.
"For nine years, I thought building an empire meant collecting zeros in a bank account and signing contracts in glass towers," I murmured, looking deep into her hazel eyes. "I thought I was building a monument to my sister, but I was just building a cage for myself. I spent my whole life running from loss by hoarding success."
I glanced back at the Subaru, then returned my gaze to the woman who had carried my children through the darkest chapters of her life entirely alone, asking for nothing.
"The only empire I ever cared about was right here," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "And I abandoned it. I don't care about Merritt Systems. I don't care about Calder's bid. If they want to walk, let them walk."
Cassandra stared at me, the hard defensive shell she had worn all evening finally beginning to crumble. A single tear slipped down her cheek, instantly freezing against her skin.
"You're crazy, Damon Prescott," she whispered, though a faint, watery smile touched the corners of her lips.
"Maybe I am," I agreed, stepping around to open the front passenger door of the Subaru. "But I'm not walking away this time. Wherever you're going tonight, I'm going. If you'll let me."
From the driver's seat, Cassandra’s sister rolled down her window and raised an eyebrow. "Well, are you getting in or freezing to death, Mr. Prescott? The heater in this heap takes ten minutes to kick on."
May you like
I slid into the passenger seat of the cramped station wagon, the smell of stale Cheerios, baby wipes, and vanilla shampoo washing over me. It was the most intoxicating scent I had ever encountered.
As the Subaru pulled away from the Denver terminal, merging into the snowy highway toward a future entirely unknown, I felt a profound, radical peace settle into my bones. The phone in my pocket remained dark. The seven hundred and eighty million dollars vanished into the ether, replaced by the soft, rhythmic breathing of two sleeping toddlers in the backseat and the warm, calloused hand of the woman I loved resting safely over mine. I had spent my whole life chasing ghosts in the boardroom, only to discover that the only redemption worth having was sitting right beside me in the dark.
