She wore jeans, a cream sweater, and the exhausted expression of a mother who had spent the entire day keeping two toddlers alive in a crowded airport.

The little girl in her arms had Damon’s green eyes too, along with Cassandra’s delicate mouth and cautious expression.

Cassandra stared at him as if the airplane had split open beneath her feet. “Damon.”

He barely heard her over the pounding of his heart.

Luke reached for his crayon. “Thank you, mister.”

Damon didn’t release it immediately. His gaze moved from Luke to the girl in Cassandra’s arms, then back to Cassandra. He calculated ages, dates, and memories with the ruthless speed that had made him a billionaire before thirty-five.

Three years since the breakup. The twins looked about two and a half. The last night he and Cassandra had spent together had been nine months before their likely birth.

The truth struck him so hard he had to grip the seat beside him. “Cassandra,” he said again. “Who are these children?”

Her face lost all color. Before she could answer, the flight attendant touched his arm. “Sir, you need to return to your seat. We’re preparing to depart.”

Damon turned. “I need five minutes.”

“You don’t have five minutes. Please sit down.”

He almost argued. Damon was used to rooms going silent when he spoke — five hundred employees, international investors, and some of the most powerful executives in technology waited on his decisions.