The Heart of the Muck
Damon Sr. sat at his massive desk, infuriated. He had calmed slightly as he watched his son-in-law use social media to fight for his daughter. Amber Ann was much stronger than any of them had ever expected, but knowing a blow was coming never truly prepared a father to watch it land.
He stood and looked at Samuel. "Make sure everything is okay here. I have to go out."
Samuel looked at his father and nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."
Damon Sr. leaned down and kissed the top of his daughter's head, but he did not disturb her. She was still staring at the television, watching Dan's live feed with an intensity he hadn't seen in years. Damon felt a flicker of hope; perhaps the influencer actually had a chance of winning her back.
He took his private elevator down to the garage and stepped into his luxury car. "Carson City Gold Shore Marina," he told the driver. Damon Sr. only remotely heard his driver report their destination to the security detail – his mind, far away analyzing matters at hand.
As the caravan pulled away, Damon Sr. pulled out his phone and looked at a photo of a custom eighty-foot yacht. Rage filled him anew. "Allen Miller better have a very good explanation," he muttered.
Amber's eyes could not leave the screen. Dan's determination was breathtaking. He moved through the mountain village with an ease she hadn't expected, his smile seemingly reserved only for her as he explained the small company's aspirations.
Dan was a mess. He was no longer immaculate; his hair was matted, and his clothing was utilitarian rather than designer—but he had never seemed more alive. Amber Ann looked at him and saw his vitality and excitement. She smiled as she forced herself to focus and listen.
"...This is all I want the world—and you—to see," Dan said into the camera. "This is The Jade Serenity Mineral Works. This is where Blue Serene receives its muds and minerals. You've seen how they source them. You've seen how this entire village works to acquire and process their products."
"This is the world economy at work," Dan continued, his arm gesturing to the sprawling mountain landscape. "It is sustainability and quality control. This is what Amber Ann Lance-Trace is bringing to Carson City. A legitimate, sustainable way to experience the world's best minerals. Now tell me—where is the violation in that? I have shown you facts. Now I ask Carson City's council members to do the same."
The live ended and photos of the days work began to flash across the screen until it ended all together. It had been a beautiful tribute to a small family owned company and the village it sustained – nothing selfish at all.
Amber sat in stunned silence. She leaned back in her chair, completely forgetting she was in her father's corporate office. She felt her heart shift. Dan had never compromised anything for her—even before he met Jessica, he had always been selfish. But here he was: dirty, working hard with villagers, stripped of his luxury. He had presented himself to the world in a less-than-pristine state, all to protect her, and her business ideas.
Amber's face warmed as she smiled. Dan had "lowered" himself for her. Maybe he really had changed.
Damon Sr. stepped out of his car before his driver could even reach the door. A man of similar age and stature, Marcus, approached him.
"Damon. Good to see you. I'm truly sorry about what is happening to your daughter."
"Thank you, Marcus. I appreciate the sentiment."
The two billionaires looked over the exclusive marina. A new yacht was moored there—a beautiful, custom-made vessel. The brass and dark wood gleamed under the sun. The white paint was blindingly fresh, and the name Empress of Joy jumped from the bow in stylized gold lettering.
Damon Sr.'s eyes slid over the hull. She was a beautiful boat—dare he say, even more beautiful than his own seventy-footer.
"Shall we go celebrate with our dear friend, Marcus?"
"I think we should."
The two old friends boarded the Empress of Joy and were immediately handed glasses of chilled champagne. They mingled for a moment, circling like sharks, until they spotted their target: Councilman Allen Miller.
Damon Sr. took a slow sip of his drink and walked directly toward him. Allen Miller stuttered as he saw the Lance patriarch approaching, a splash of champagne spilling onto his expensive silk tie. He tried to muster a politician's boisterous smile.
"Marcus! Damon! I am so glad you could make it! She is a beauty, isn't she?"
"She certainly is, Allen," Marcus replied smoothly. "From where did you acquire such a masterpiece?"
But Allen Miller didn't hear him. His eyes were wide and fixed on Damon Lance Sr., who had moved into his personal space. Damon leaned in, whispering softly into the councilman's ear. The whisper was soft, but it carried the weight of a death sentence.
"Yes, my dear friend... please explain how a city councilman making sixty thousand a year can afford a vessel worth well over three million dollars."
Allen Miller's face went bone-pale. Karen Sanns had told him not to spend the money too quickly. He had been a fool.