Chapter 5 - The Hidden LetterTwo hours later, the Boeing 777 touched down on the snow-dusted tarmac of Denver International Airport with a smooth, practiced thud of rubber against concrete. The holiday lights of the terminal twinkled through the frosted windows, welcoming the exhausted travelers into the warmth of the concourse.
Thanks to an urgent text Damon had sent to his chief operating officer while taxiing to the gate, the standard rules of commercial deplaning did not apply to row fourteen.
A senior airport ground manager, flanked by two airline representatives, was waiting at the exit door of the first-class galley with a private electric cart.
“Mr. Prescott,” the manager said politely, nodding. “We’ve cleared your private transfer. Your luggage and the children’s gear have already been retrieved and loaded into the SUV. The VIP lounge is prepped for you.”
Damon turned to Cassandra, who was holding a sleeping Violet in her arms while Luke walked beside them, clutching his gray elephant and staring in wide-eyed wonder at the flashing airport lights.
“We’re not going to a lounge,” Damon told the manager smoothly. “We’re going to a private hangar. My G650 is fueled and cleared for a direct flight back to Seattle whenever Mrs. Prescott is ready.”
Cassandra stopped walking. “Damon, wait. My rental car—my luggage—my apartment in Seattle is—”
“Your apartment in Seattle is no longer your concern,” Damon interrupted, his voice firm, brooking no argument, yet laced with a gentleness she hadn’t heard in a decade. He reached out, gently taking the heavy diaper bag from her shoulder and slinging it over his own custom-tailored suit. “Neither is your job at the hospital, unless you want to keep it out of personal fulfillment. Starting tonight, you and the kids are moving into the Mercer Island estate. The east wing has been empty for three years. It’s time it filled up.”
Cassandra’s breath hitched. “Damon, you can’t just—you can’t just dictate my entire life because of an email from three years ago. We are divorced.”
“We were divorced under false pretenses,” Damon corrected, his gaze holding hers with immovable strength. “A contract signed in ignorance is legally and morally void. But we don’t need lawyers to figure this out, Cassie. We just need a conversation. Not on an airplane. Not in a rush.”
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the crumpled, damp gray elephant, handing it down to Luke, who squealed in delight. Then, from the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a pristine, heavy parchment envelope—sealed with a red wax stamp bearing the Prescott family crest, though the paper itself looked older, yellowed at the edges.
“What is that?” Cassandra asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“My grandfather’s final letter,” Damon said quietly. “He left it in a safety deposit box with instructions that it only be opened when I found the person who mattered more than the company.”
He handed the envelope to her.
Cassandra hesitated, her fingers brushing against the heavy paper. She broke the wax seal, unfolded the single sheet of handwritten cursive, and read the bold lines penned by a man she had never met:
To my grandson, If you are reading this, you have finally stopped running. Wealth is a mirror; it reflects everything you surround yourself with, but it can never keep you warm at night. If you’ve found a woman who loves you for the man you are when you’re broke and tired, hold onto her with both hands. Because once you let true love slip through your fingers, no amount of silicon or gold can ever buy it back.
A single tear tracked down Cassandra’s cheek, dissolving into the smile that finally broke across her face.
She folded the letter and slid it into her coat pocket, looking up at the towering, impossible, stubborn man who had chased her across thirty thousand feet of winter sky.
May you like
“You’re an infuriating, arrogant control freak, Damon Prescott,” she murmured.
“I know,” he replied, a slow, brilliant smile breaking across his face—complete with the deep dimple that Luke had poked five minutes earlier. He reached out, taking her free hand in his, interlocking their fingers as the electric cart began to glide toward the private exit. “And you’re the only person in the world who can keep me grounded.”
