All Chapters of The Night Before Christmas: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Aria’s POVThe courtroom felt colder than the rest of the building, though not in temperature, but in presence.It was the kind of cold that settled beneath the skin, quiet and unrelenting, as though every word spoken within those walls carried consequence long after it had been said. The air held a faint scent of polished wood and aged paper, while the low murmur of voices wove together in restrained anticipation as people took their seats.I sat beside Desmond, my hands folded neatly in my lap, my posture composed in a way that felt almost rehearsed. From the outside, I must have appeared calm, untouched by the weight of what was about to unfold.Inside, nothing was still.Across the room, Evans sat at the defence table, flanked by his legal team. His suit was immaculate, his posture relaxed, as though this were nothing more than an inconvenience he intended to outlast. There was no visible strain, no flicker of concern in his expression, not even the smallest crack in his composure

Aria’s POVWe moved into the receiving room to receive the officers. They did not rush in.They entered with the kind of measured control that spoke of procedure rather than urgency, their presence filling the study without disrupting its order. The air shifted the moment they stepped inside, not with chaos, but with quiet authority. Even the faint scent of leather and paper seemed to recede beneath the sharper undertone of pressed uniforms and polished shoes.I remained where I stood.Composed.Still.Desmond did not move to greet them immediately. Instead, he allowed the silence to stretch just long enough to establish something unspoken, something deliberate. Then, with quiet precision, he gestured towards the seating area.“Please,” he said calmly. “Have a seat.”The lead officer, a man in his early forties with a steady gaze and an expression that revealed very little, inclined his head slightly before stepping forward. His partner followed, quieter, observant, her eyes moving br

Aria’s POVThe paper crumpled too easily in my hand.For a moment, I did not realise how tightly I was holding it until the sharp edge pressed into my palm, a thin sting that pulled me back into the present. The main hall felt larger than it had only moments ago, the high ceilings stretching endlessly above while the quiet hum of the house settled into something heavier, more aware, as though the walls themselves had registered the shift.Desmond was watching me.Not with impatience, and not with pressure, but with a kind of stillness that felt far more dangerous than either. It was the stillness of someone who was already thinking several steps ahead, waiting only for the moment to act.“Aria,” he said again, his voice calm but firmer this time, “let me see it.”I drew in a slow breath, forcing my fingers to loosen just enough for the paper to unfold. The creases remained, cutting across the page in uneven lines, distorting the printed words that had already begun to settle far too d

Desmond’s POVWith three days left until the next hearing, the ground beneath everything we thought we understood had already begun to shift.Mark Smith was alive.And now, we knew where to find him.Aviel Beckham was not simply influencing events from behind bars; she was orchestrating them, shaping narratives with a precision that suggested long-term design rather than reactive strategy.Marian, Aria’s mother, had not been acting out of control or desperation as it once seemed. She had been positioned, moved carefully into place, just like Evans.And Hailey…Hailey was not Mark’s daughter.The realisation did not settle easily. It lingered, pressing against every conclusion I had drawn so far, forcing me to reconsider the architecture of this entire situation.How many people were truly acting of their own will?And how many were simply pieces on a board they could not even see?The thought followed me as we stepped out of the study and into the corridor. The house was quiet, but no

Desmond’s POVBy the time I returned to the house, the night had settled into something quieter, heavier, as though the world itself had lowered its voice in anticipation of what was to come.The corridor lights cast a soft amber glow along the walls, stretching shadows into long, distorted shapes that shifted with each step I took. The air felt still, but not at ease. There was tension woven into it now, subtle, persistent as though something unseen had taken residence within these walls and refused to leave.I pushed the door open.Aria was inside.She stood near the window, her back partially turned, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the curtain as though she had been staring out into the dark for longer than she realised. The faint glow from outside traced the outline of her figure, softening her presence but doing nothing to ease the tension in the way she held herself.She turned at the sound of the door.She was back in her own room.For a moment, neither of us sp