Chapter 4 - Shadows in the SnowstormThe interior of the Cadillac Escalade was a warm sanctuary compared to the howling whiteout raging outside. The leather seats were heated, a soft amber glow illuminated the cabin, and the gentle hum of the climate control system coaxed Luke into falling back asleep against my chest.
“Where are we going, Damon?” she asked softly as Thomas navigated the vehicle carefully onto the slick, snow-packed interstate leading toward Boulder. “You said you had transport, but I can't stay at a luxury hotel with two toddlers. It’s too chaotic, and I don't want charity.”
“It’s not charity,” I replied, keeping my voice gentle so as not to wake Luke. “It’s my responsibility. And we’re not going to a hotel. My personal estate in the foothills outside Boulder is fully winterized. There’s a nursery, a stocked kitchen, and a medical-grade backup generator. It’s safe.”
Cassandra crossed her arms, looking out the frost-covered window where the headlights carved eerie tunnels through the swirling snow. “Safe. That’s a funny word coming from you, Damon. The last time I trusted your version of ‘safe,’ you locked yourself in a corporate tower and left me to figure out how to survive alone in a hospital waiting room.”
Her words cut deep, leaving a raw, stinging ache in my chest. She had every right to be angry. Every right to hate me. No amount of money or corporate power could erase the terror she had endured alone while I was chasing hollow victories in boardrooms.
“I know I can’t undo the last three years, Cassandra,” I said quietly, staring down at Luke’s peaceful face resting against my shoulder. “I can't give you back those sleepless nights in the NICU. I can't give you back the Christmases you spent struggling to pay rent. But I can give you every single tomorrow. I’m not going back to the way things were. Prescott Technologies can run itself for a while; my family needs me now.”
She turned her head to look at me, her green eyes searching my face in the dim light, looking for any sign of the old ambition that had torn us apart.
“People like you don't change, Damon,” she murmured, her voice laced with deep-seated sorrow. “Ambition isn't a coat you take off when it gets warm. It’s your skin. Give it a week, and the board will call you with another billion-dollar crisis, and you’ll leave us behind all over again.”
Before I could answer, the car suddenly lurched.
Thomas slammed on the brakes, causing the massive SUV to slide gracefully across a patch of black ice before regaining traction on the shoulder of the highway.
“What was that, Thomas?” I called out sharply, instinctively wrapping my arms tighter around Luke.
“Sorry, sir,” Thomas’s voice came back through the intercom, laced with sudden tension. “Some idiot in a black sedan tried to run us off the road back there near the overpass. He’s right behind us now, riding our bumper without headlights.”
I spun around in my seat, pressing my face against the rear glass.
Through the swirling blizzard, a sleek black Mercedes G-Wagon materialized out of the whiteout, its high beams flashing aggressively in our rear-view mirror. The vehicle pulled sharply into the left lane, accelerated alongside us, and tried to force our SUV toward the concrete median barrier.
“Hold on!” Thomas yelled, flooring the accelerator of the Escalade to surge past the aggressive driver.
“Damon... what is happening?” Cassandra gasped, pulling Violet close to her chest as the little girl began to cry from the sudden motion.
“I don't know,” I said, my jaw tightening as a cold, terrifying realization dawned on me.
That Mercedes wasn't driven by a reckless holiday driver. It was armored, sleek, and driven with tactical precision.
And only one group of people in Colorado knew exactly where I was, what vehicle I was traveling in, and why I had gone rogue on Christmas Eve.
My own corporate security team—or rather, the faction of the board loyal to my ruthless co-founder and chief rival for board control, Julian Calder.
If Calder’s people intercepted us before midnight, they wouldn't just try to force me to sign the acquisition contract. They knew that with children in the picture, my leverage had completely shifted. They would use my family to break me.
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“Thomas!” I shouted over the roar of the wind. “Take the old logging road exit! Lose them in the mountain switchbacks!”
“Copy that, Mr. Prescott!” Thomas roared, yanking the steering wheel hard to the right as we careened off the highway toward the dark, winding forests of the Colorado foothills, with the black Mercedes tailing us like a bloodhound in the snow.
