DAMIEN'S POV
March arrived and Cross Industries turned fifteen years old.
James wanted to mark it with an event. I agreed to a dinner for senior staff and board members, nothing excessive, a private room at a good restaurant in New York. Two days, fly in, handle it, fly back.
Elara had the Vancouver build-out entering its final phase and didn't come. We said goodbye at the apartment door on a Tuesday morning and she handed me a travel coffee and said, "Don't let James talk you into staying longer than two days."
"He'll try."
"I know. Tell him no."
I told James no on Wednesday evening when he suggested extending through the weekend. He accepted it without much argument, which meant he'd expected it.
The dinner was good. Forty people who'd built something real over fifteen years. I ga
