The Night Before Christmas のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Aria’s POVThe air in the room tasted of iron and damp concrete. It clung to the back of my throat, metallic and sour, like I had bitten my own tongue. My wrists burned where the ropes bit into them, fibres scraping skin raw each time I shifted. Somewhere above us, water dripped in a slow, patient rhythm, tap… tap… tap, as if time itself were watching.“Now,” she said, her voice silk wrapped around a blade, “let’s talk about why your so-called husband appears in places he shouldn’t be.”“He is not my husband,” I barked, my voice cracking against the cavernous walls as the man behind her retreated to his position.“Arrh,” she roared, the sound sudden and sharp enough to make me flinch, “that is the problem.”I stared at her. Her heels clicked once against the concrete as she shifted her weight. She was immaculate, with a tailored coat, glossy hair, and red lips that looked freshly painted. She did not belong in a place that smelt like rusted chains and forgotten things.“If Evans were

Desmond’s POVMy phone buzzed. Relief hit first. Clean. Sharp. Immediate.James.It had to be James. I flipped the phone over.Not James.My hacker.The air in the room felt heavier before I even unlocked the screen. The press conference hall was already noisy, camera shutters snapping, reporters shifting, whispered speculation rippling like static, but suddenly all of it dulled behind the pulse in my ears.I opened the message.Sir, I don't know how they did it, but the video is live. I have been trying to pull it down for the past five minutes, but it's like someone is ensuring the video remains live.For a fraction of a second, my brain refused to process the words.Live.Ensuring it remains live.My stomach twisted as if someone had reached inside and clenched a fist around it.I looked up.Every head in the room was bent over a phone.Every single one. I didn’t need to ask what they were watching.I remembered Aria telling me what was in the video.But memory and reality are diff

Desmond’s POVI spent the night in the hospital, seated beside Hailey’s bed.The room smelled of antiseptic and warmed plastic. Machines hummed in a low, mechanical rhythm. The fluorescent lights had been dimmed, but they still bled a sterile glow across the white walls. I did not remember closing my eyes. Exhaustion must have claimed me without permission.The sharp clink of metal against metal pulled me back.I opened my eyes to a nurse wheeling in a stainless-steel trolley. The wheels whispered against the polished floor.“Good morning, Mr Howard.”Her tone was careful. Respectful.“Good morning.”My voice was steady, though my neck ached from sleeping upright. I glanced at the curtained window. No natural light. Just the muted hum of early morning beyond the glass.“What time is it?”I reached into my pocket for my phone.“Seven a.m., sir.”She arranged syringes and gauze on the top tray with precise efficiency.“How are my two employees on the other floor?” I asked.“They’re reco

Aria’s POVI woke to white.Not the comforting white of morning light through curtains, but a hard, sterile brightness that pressed against my eyelids. The air smelled sharply of antiseptic, metal and something faintly chemical. A steady machine beeped somewhere to my left. Rhythmic. Impersonal.Hospital.The word arrived before any memory did.I turned my head slowly. The pillowcase rasped against my cheek. My throat felt dry, like I had swallowed sand.A little girl sat on the bed beside mine.She was watching me as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. Dark hair tied back neatly. Small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. Her eyes were large, hopeful.Something inside me tightened.She smiled.“Mummy is awake.”The word didn’t land. It hovered in the air between us, absurd and misplaced.I glanced around the room, expecting another woman. Someone older. Someone who fit the word better.There was no one.Only her.And the back of a man standing near her bed.He turned a

Desmond’s POVI invited Aria’s family because she asked about them.Not because I wanted reconciliation. Not after the way they treated her at the wedding. But she had looked at me with that quiet uncertainty and said their names like she was searching for something solid in a world that no longer made sense.If her memory was going to return, it had to begin somewhere.Dr Patel believed it would not. I believed it would.You do not erase a lifetime that easily.Family was the logical starting point. The people she had lived with all her life. The people who should have anchored her.Instead, they caused a scene in a hospital ward.And when the name David was mentioned, they fled as though someone had pulled a fire alarm.That was not fear. That was guilt.I buttoned my shirt slowly inside the walk-in wardrobe, the faint scent of cedarwood and starch hanging in the air. Outside, the bedroom was quiet, too quiet for a house that had known tension for weeks.When I stepped out, fully dr