Chapter 3 - Emergency Landing in Aspen
The descent into Aspen was an exercise in pure terror.
The Boeing 737 was tossed like a leaf in an updraft as the pilots fought the vicious mountain crosswinds. Ice crackled against the fuselage, a sharp, machine-gun rattle that kept the cabin frozen in petrified silence. Throughout the entire agonizing twenty minutes, I stayed on the floor, my back absorbing the violent shudders of the cabin wall, my arms locked around my family.
When the heavy rubber tires finally slammed down onto the tarmac with a bone-jarring thud, the entire cabin broke into spontaneous applause and ragged sobs. The reverse thrusters roared, roaring against the blizzard, until the aircraft finally slowed and turned toward the small regional terminal.
The lights flickered back on. Luke slowly lifted his head from my chest, his eyelashes wet with tears.
“We stopped dancing with the clouds?” he asked timidly.
“We stopped,” I whispered, gently wiping a tear from his cheek with my thumb. The softness of his skin felt alien to a man who spent his life handling cold glass, polished mahogany, and digital screens. “You were so brave, Luke.”
He looked down at my hand, then reached up, wrapping his tiny, sticky fingers around my index finger. He held on with surprising strength. That small, instinctive grip shattered whatever remained of the cold, calculating CEO I had spent thirty-four years constructing.
As the plane reached the gate, passengers began scrambling for their carry-ons, desperate to escape. Cassandra sat frozen, staring at me while Violet remained asleep against her shoulder, utterly exhausted from crying.
“You have to go,” Cassandra said, her voice dropping into a flat, defensive tone that sounded like self-preservation.
“What?”
“Your deal, Damon. You’re Damon Prescott. You have a private jet probably waiting for you somewhere, or a fleet of black SUVs. Denver is four hours by road through the pass, if the roads are even open. Go sign your contracts.”
I stood up, brushing the dirt from the knees of my thousand-dollar trousers, and looked down at her. “Do you honestly believe I’m walking away from you right now?”
“I believe you’ve spent your entire life choosing Prescott Holdings over everything else,” she said, her voice laced with the pain of an old, unhealed wound. “When we were together, you missed anniversaries, birthdays, dinners. You told me the neonatal platform was your life’s mission. Now that deal is happening tonight. Go.”
Before I could answer, my phone signal restored. A torrent of notifications flooded the screen, buzzing uncontrollably in my palm.
*14 Missed Calls: Marcus Prescott (Father)*
*22 Missed Calls: Victoria Kane (Chief Legal Counsel)*
*8 Missed Calls: Board Chairman Robert Sterling*
A text from Victoria flashed across the glass:
*Damon! We tracked your flight diversion to Aspen. The highway through the Eisenhower Tunnel is closing in one hour due to an avalanche warning. Marcus chartered a heavy-duty four-wheel-drive convoy from Grand Junction to pick you up at the Aspen private aviation gate. They are waiting. If you aren't in Denver by 11:59 PM, Calder Industries buys Merritt’s patents out from under us. Move your ass!*
I shoved the phone into my pocket without replying.
“Cassandra, gather your things,” I said calmly.
“I’m staying at the terminal, Damon. My mother lives in Grand Junction. I was flying to Denver to take the regional shuttle bus to her house for Christmas. Now everything is canceled. I’ll wait for morning.”
I looked around the small Aspen regional terminal through the plane’s windows. Snow was falling in thick, horizontal sheets, blanketing the runway in inches by the minute. Inside the terminal, hundreds of stranded passengers were already fighting over limited floor space, vending machines, and charging stations.
“You are not spending Christmas Eve on a cold linoleum floor with two toddlers,” I said.
I didn't wait for her permission. I reached up, grabbed her heavy carry-on bag and diaper pack from the overhead compartment, slung them over my shoulder, and then reached down toward Luke.
“Up you go, buddy,” I said softly.
Luke didn't hesitate. He raised his arms, and I lifted him onto my hip. He weighed almost nothing, yet holding him felt heavier and more profound than closing any multi-billion-dollar fund.
Cassandra stared at me, her lips parted in disbelief, before looking down at Violet. Realizing she had no tactical choice in an overcrowded plane aisle, she stood up, clutching Violet tightly, and followed me down the jet bridge.
The Aspen terminal was absolute chaos. Families were screaming at airline representatives; flight crews were being escorted out by security; children were wailing. The temperature near the sliding glass entrance doors was freezing.
Suddenly, Luke began to shiver violently against my chest.
I pulled back slightly to look at him. His face was flushed crimson, and when my hand brushed his forehead, heat radiated against my palm like a furnace.
“Cassandra,” I snapped, my CEO authority instinctively asserting itself. “He’s burning up.”
Cassandra touched his neck, and panic instantly flooded her tired eyes. “Oh god. He was coughing yesterday, but the pediatrician said it was just a mild cold. He feels like he’s on fire.”
Luke whimpered, his eyes rolling back slightly as his body began to tremble with a high fever. “Mommy... my throat hurts. I’m cold.”
I looked toward the terminal exit. Standing just beyond the baggage claim were two burly men in black parkas holding a sign that read: **PRESCOTT PRIVATE TRANSPORT.**
Beside them stood a third man—an executive courier sent by my father, clutching a satellite phone and an encrypted tablet for the Merritt contract signing.
They spotted me immediately. The courier pushed through the crowd, waving urgently. “Mr. Prescott! Over here! The convoy is running! We have snow-clearing escorts. We can make the Denver deadline with twenty minutes to spare!”
Cassandra saw them too. She took a step back, pulling Violet closer, her face falling into an expression of profound, resigned defeat. She believed the script was already written. She expected me to hand Luke back to her, apologize with a pained look, hand her a black credit card, and walk out into the blizzard toward my empire.
The courier reached us, breathlessly shoving the satellite phone into my face. “Damon! Your father is on line one! He says sign the digital authorization right now in the SUV, or the Merritt family walks!”
I looked at the courier. Then I looked down at Luke, whose small, feverish head was resting helplessly in the crook of my neck, his little hand weakly gripping my lapel.
I took the satellite phone from the courier’s hand.
“Damon?” my father’s booming, arrogant voice barked from the speaker. “Stop wasting time in that goddamn terminal! Get in the vehicle and sign the papers! We’ve worked three years for this night!”
“Marcus,” I said, my voice dead, cold, and lethal.
“What? Why aren't you moving?”
“Three years ago, you forged my name on an NDA to banish the mother of my children.”
The line went completely dead for two seconds.
“Damon... whatever she told you, she’s a gold-digger looking for leverage—”
“Go to hell,” I said softly.
I dropped the satellite phone onto the polished terminal floor, raised my leather boot, and brought my heel down with all my weight. The phone shattered into plastic shards and crushed circuitry.
The courier’s mouth dropped open in absolute horror. “Mr. Prescott! What about the deal? What about the eight hundred million?”
“Take the convoy,” I ordered the two drivers, my voice echoing across the baggage hall with command that made nearby travelers freeze. “Drive it straight to the nearest twenty-four-hour pediatric clinic in Aspen. Get antibiotics, liquid acetaminophen, pediatric electrolytes, and blankets. If you aren't back at the private aviation terminal in fifteen minutes, I’ll buy the transportation company you work for tomorrow morning and fire you both before breakfast. Move!”
The drivers didn't blink. They turned and sprinted out into the blinding snow.
I turned back to Cassandra. She was staring at me as if she had never seen me before in her life.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, tears freezing on her cheeks.
I shifted Luke securely into my arms, reached out, and took Cassandra’s trembling hand in mine.
May you like
“We’re going to take care of our son,” I said. “Together.”
***
