The piece of cardstock Cassandra pulled from her worn leather tote was thick, yellowed at the edges, and stamped with a priority mail seal dated three years ago. My name was handwritten on the front in her jagged, nervous script: Damon Prescott.

I didn't just walk to baggage claim; I sprinted through the sprawling underground terminal of DIA like a man running for his soul. When I burst through the sliding glass doors into the bustling arrivals hall, my breath pluming in the freezing Denver air, I scanned the chaotic sea of waiting families, cardboard signs, and rolling suitcases.

There she was.

Cassandra was standing near Carousel 4, shifting Violet from one hip to the other while Luke sleepily dragged his tiny dinosaur-printed rolling suitcase behind her.

I exhaled a breath I felt like I’d been holding since Oregon, jogging over to intercept them before they could reach the exit doors leading to the taxi stand.

"You stayed," I said, breathless, stepping up beside her.

"I missed our connecting flight because of the de-icing delays," she corrected sharply, though a tiny, involuntary twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. "Don't flatter yourself, Damon. The airline put us up at the airport Marriott for the night."

Before I could reply, a heavy, familiar hand clapped down hard on my shoulder.

"Damon! Thank God you're here!"

I spun around to find Marcus Vance standing there, flanked by two corporate lawyers in heavy wool overcoats and a shivering public relations intern holding an open laptop.

My blood ran cold. How did they track me down this fast?

"Marcus," I snarled, stepping protectively in front of Cassandra and the twins. "I told you on the plane. I’m out. Prescott Technologies is yours. Do whatever you want with it."

"You can't just walk away, you lunatic!" Marcus shouted over the din of the baggage claim loudspeaker, completely oblivious to Cassandra’s stunned expression. "Calder’s legal team is on standby. They refused our counter-offer, but the board held an emergency vote five minutes ago. They rejected your resignation! They voted to double your equity stake if you sign the Merritt acquisition papers right now. Look—even the PR team is here to draft the press release!"

The intern nervously thrust an open laptop forward, displaying a glowing DocuSign authorization form with my name blinking in a red text box.

Cassandra stared at the laptop screen, then up at me, her expression instantly hardening into a mask of pure, chilling realization.

"Merritt Systems," she whispered, her voice dangerously quiet. "The multi-million dollar medical acquisition. The one you were flying to Denver to close on Christmas Eve."

"Cass, wait—" I started, reaching out.

"Don't touch me," she stepped back, her eyes flashing with absolute fury. "I was actually starting to wonder for a second. I actually thought, maybe he's changed. Maybe the ghost of his sister finally taught him how to love. But you haven't changed at all, Damon. You didn't run down this terminal for me or your children. You ran down here because your board panicked when you went radio silent!"

"That’s not true!" I shouted, ignoring the stares of half a dozen travelers waiting for their bags. "I told him to let them have the deal! I quit!"

"You didn't sign the papers yet, did you?" Cassandra challenged, her gaze locking onto the glowing screen of the laptop. "If you walk away right now—if you choose us—you walk away from Prescott Technologies forever. No golden parachute. No board seat. Just a clean break. Are you willing to do that, Damon? Right here? Right now?"