His Christmas Present のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

The sound of Caleb’s voice grated against the inside of my skull, sharp and volatile, and for a second I couldn’t decide if I wanted to shut him up or walk away before I did something reckless. He kept pacing inside the small holding room, breath coming out in angry bursts, eyes darting anywhere but mine. I wasn’t even looking at him anymore. My phone kept vibrating inside my palm. Security alerts. Internal notifications. Something digging at the edge of my awareness. A pull. A warning. Like the building itself was trying to tell me something was wrong. Something upstairs. Something with her. “Are you even listening to me?” Caleb snapped, stepping closer, the kind of step meant to provoke. I leveled my gaze at him without moving. “You pushed one of my employees. You forced your way into a corporate building. You barged in demanding access to someone who clearly doesn’t want to see you. I’ve listened enough.” He went rigid. “She’s my business, not yours.” “No,” I said quietly.

Damon’s POV The moment Liana crossed the threshold of my office, something inside my chest seized—hard, violent, like the past reached out and wrapped a hand around my throat. I didn’t even remember moving, but suddenly I was in the doorway, blocking half the room, instinct driving my body faster than thought ever could. Aria stood against the far wall, eyes wide, hands trembling where she tried to hide them behind her. She looked small. Cornered. Frozen the way a deer freezes when it realizes the predator isn’t in the woods—it’s already breathing the same air. And Liana… Liana walked inside like she owned the space. Like she remembered every inch of it. Like she had never vanished, never drowned in a river, never disappeared without a trace and ripped my world apart. She moved toward Aria with slow, deliberate steps, and something ugly kicked to life inside me—a warning, a surge of protectiveness so sharp I felt it in my teeth. I stepped forward. Hard. “Liana.” She stopped, h

Damon’s POV The words left Liana’s mouth like they were dipped in poison. I felt them hit the air, felt them strike the space between us, felt them land on Aria like a blow. Her breath hitched behind me, small and shaken, and I swear I felt it against my spine even though we were not touching. You did not tell her who she really is. My pulse slammed so hard I tasted metal. The room tilted. Not physically, not in any way someone else would see, but inside my skull something lurched sideways. Liana watched me with eyes that were too steady. Too sure. Too unafraid. She knew exactly what she was doing. She always had. Even before she disappeared. I stepped between her and Aria again, one slow move, deliberate, because my body remembered what it meant to protect before my head caught up. Liana’s gaze followed the motion with a soft hum, the sound of someone confirming a theory. I did not look at Aria. I could not. Not yet. Not with the way her breathing sounded like it might c

Damon’s POV The screen lit up before the door even closed behind us, and I knew before I saw anything that this was going to ruin what little control I had left. I felt it in my chest first. That tightening. That wrongness. The kind that comes right before impact. Daniel stood stiff beside the security console, one hand braced on the desk like he might need it to keep himself upright. Two guards hovered behind him, eyes fixed anywhere but mine. No one spoke. No one breathed properly. Aria was still pressed against my side. I could feel the tremor in her body through my sleeve, small and constant, like she was vibrating apart molecule by molecule. My hand stayed firm at her back. Not possessive. Protective. Anchoring. “Show me,” I said. Daniel swallowed. Hard. Then he tapped the keyboard. The footage filled the main screen. Black and white. Grainy. Nighttime. A street I recognized instantly. Three blocks from my building. The camera timestamp blinked in the corner. Two weeks

Damon’s POV The moment the door shut behind Liana, the room felt like it had been hollowed out and left echoing. Not quiet. Empty. The kind of empty that follows an explosion, when the noise fades and all that’s left is damage you haven’t fully counted yet. Aria stood frozen near the desk, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to keep her body from splitting apart. Her breathing was off. Too shallow. Too fast. Every instinct in me flared sharp and immediate. “Aria.” She didn’t respond. I crossed the room in three strides and stopped in front of her, careful not to crowd her, careful not to touch her too suddenly. Her eyes were open but unfocused, staring at nothing, pupils blown wide like she’d just watched something unspeakable. “Look at me,” I said softly. Nothing. I reached out anyway, slow, deliberate, and placed my hands on her upper arms. Warm skin. Trembling. Real. She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. “Aria,” I repeated, firmer now. “Stay wit