I boarded a Christmas Eve flight furious about a $780 million deal, convinced nothing mattered more than getting to Denver before midnight. Then a red crayon rolled against my shoe, a little boy looked up at me with my exact green eyes, and three rows later I saw the woman I had once planned to marry holding a little girl who looked just like me.
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I boarded a Christmas Eve flight furious about a $780 million deal, convinced nothing mattered more than getting to Denver before midnight. Then a red crayon rolled against my shoe, a little boy looked up at me with my exact green eyes, and three rows later I saw the woman I had once planned to marry holding a little girl who looked just like me.

My name is Damon Prescott, and until that moment, I thought I understood the cost of