Chapter 2 - THE FIRST-CLASS SUMMONS
The Boeing 777 finally broke free of the deicing pads and accelerated down the snowy runway, lifting its nose into the dark, storm-tossed winter sky.
As soon as the seatbelt sign chimed off, Cassandra felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know.
A flight attendant in a crisp navy uniform walked down the aisle, pausing right beside row fourteen. She offered a polite, professional smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Prescott?” the flight attendant asked smoothly.
Cassandra blinked, startled. “I’m... I’m Hayes. My name is Cassandra Hayes.”
“Of course, Ms. Hayes,” the flight attendant corrected gently, holding out a sleek black leather folder. “Mr. Damon Prescott in seat 2A has requested your presence in the first-class cabin. He’s arranged for a private bulkhead suite where you and the children can stretch out comfortably for the remainder of the flight.”
The entire cabin seemed to grow quiet. Passengers across the aisle glanced over with curious stares.
Cassandra’s chin came up, a defensive spike of adrenaline replacing her initial fear. “Tell Mr. Prescott that my place is right here in economy with my children. We are perfectly fine.”
The flight attendant didn't blink. She lowered her voice slightly, leaning in. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Prescott doesn't typically take no for an answer. And judging by the look in his eyes when he asked me to deliver this message, it would be much better for everyone involved if you simply walk up there voluntarily.”
Before Cassandra could formulate a sharp refusal, a tall, imposing shadow fell across their row.
Damon Prescott had bypassed the curtain.
He didn't look like the broken young man who had walked out of their apartment three years ago. The cheap off-the-rack suits were gone, replaced by a hand-tailored Italian charcoal jacket that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His jawline was sharper, etched with lines of absolute authority and absolute fury. But his green eyes—the exact same green eyes now staring up at him from a pair of bewildered toddlers—were blazing with a volatile mix of disbelief and lethal rage.
“You don't need to ask her twice, Sarah,” Damon said to the flight attendant, his voice low, controlled, and dangerously calm. The flight attendant nodded quickly and stepped away.
Damon crouched down in the narrow aisle, ignoring the bumped knees of a passenger across from him. He stared directly at Luke, who was chewing on a plastic toy dinosaur, and then at Violet, who instinctively hid behind Cassandra’s arm.
“Hi, buddy,” Damon whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at the little boy. “What’s your name?”
“Luke,” the boy mumbled, eyeing Damon’s expensive watch. “You have a shiny watch.”
Damon swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply. He slowly raised his gaze to meet Cassandra’s blazing eyes.
“Three years, Cassie,” Damon said, each word dropping like a lead weight into the aisle. “You hid my children from me for three damn years.”
“I didn't hide anything, Damon,” Cassandra fired back, her voice shaking with adrenaline. “I sent the notifications. I sent the medical records. I sent the legal notice to your corporate office!”
“I never received a single word!” Damon snarled, though he kept his voice down so surrounding passengers wouldn't hear. “Do you honestly think if I knew I had a son and a daughter—if I knew you were carrying my flesh and blood—I would have let you vanish? I searched for you for six months after the divorce was finalized! Your apartment was empty, your phone was disconnected, and your family refused to speak to me!”
“Because your lawyers threatened them with lawsuits if they interfered!” Cassandra hissed, tears finally spilling over her lashes. “You didn't want a family, Damon! You wanted a corporate asset liquidation! You sent divorce papers while I was throwing up morning sickness in a bathroom!”
Damon flinched as if he had been physically struck. He stared at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Divorce papers? Cassandra, I never signed off on a contested divorce. My legal team told me you filed for abandonment and requested an immediate, sealed default dissolution because you wanted a clean break with a settlement check!”
Cassandra froze. The air rushed out of her lungs. “What... what are you talking about? Your lawyers served me!”
Before Damon could answer, the PA system chimed loudly. “Cabin crew, please secure yourselves for minor turbulence. Return to your seats immediately.”
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Damon gripped the armrest of the economy seat, his knuckles stark white. He looked at the twins, then back at Cassandra, his expression shifting from blind anger to a chilling, calculated resolve.
“We aren't finishing this conversation in an economy aisle,” Damon commanded, standing up to his full, imposing height. He reached down, scooped little Luke up into his arms before the boy could protest, and looked at Cassandra with an expression that brooked zero argument. “Move, Cassie. Now. We are going to my suite, and you are going to explain to me how a multi-million-dollar legal firewall managed to successfully hide my own children from me.”
