All Chapters of The Night Before Christmas: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Aria’s POVIt was 9 p.m.I took the lead to the bedroom while Mr Howard went to tuck Hailey in and read her a bedtime story as she requested.I would have loved to join them, but I felt tired and sleepy.Not sure how long I was asleep, but I woke up choking on air.The dream dissolved the moment my eyes opened, but the feeling remained: paralysis, a shadow leaning over me, the cold sting of something piercing my skin.My arm throbbed faintly, phantom pain.For a moment, I lay still in the darkness, listening to the silence of the room that was supposed to be ours.Empty.The other side of the bed was cold. My chest tightened.“Alex?” I called softly.No answer.The lamp by the dresser was still on, casting a faint amber glow that felt too warm for how cold I suddenly felt inside.Another nightmare. Another piece missing.I pushed the covers back and slid my feet onto the floor. The marble was cool beneath my soles, grounding me. I wrapped my robe tighter around myself and stepped int

Desmond’s POVFrom Aviel’s house, we drove straight to the club.It was nearing eleven when we arrived. The front entrance was chaos, laughter, flashing lights, bodies pressed too close to music that pulsed like a heartbeat on the verge of rupture. I avoided it.I used the rear entrance and went directly upstairs to my office, dismissing five guards on the way. I kept James, my driver, and one man outside the door.That was sufficient.“Sir, as requested,” James said, handing me the tablet.I took it and skimmed the files, leaning against the edge of my desk.“Print everything.”“Yes, sir.”The low mechanical hum of the printer filled the room as I lowered myself into my chair.You are no different from me.You seek justice for a wrong. So did I.You used Aria as leverage. So did I.Her voice threaded through my thoughts with clinical precision, drowning out the printer’s rhythm.“Sir,” James said, approaching with the stack of documents.“Leave them on the table.”He did.“Is there a

Third Person POV“Are we staying?” Helina asked softly, smoothing the collar of Elliot’s shirt as he studied himself in the mirror. “Or are we going back?”Elliot buttoned the last fastening and exhaled. “If I’m honest, I prefer being here. Sitting at the head. Making decisions. It’s better than managing rented flats and patching up branches that should have been stabilised years ago.”Helina picked up a navy tie and stepped closer. He turned to face her, hands settling naturally at her waist as she looped the silk around his collar.“I know you didn’t want to come back,” Elliot said quietly. “And I won’t press you for why. But I’m here because Mum asked me to help with Mr Evans’ case.”Helina adjusted the knot. “Help how?”“She wants us to testify against Howard.” He met her eyes in the mirror. “At first, it felt complicated because of Aria. But now…” He hesitated. “Now that she’s lost her memory, we can actually fix this.”Helina’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second.“What exa

Desmond’s POVFor the first time in eight years, I slept.Not the shallow, defensive kind. Not the kind where every sound pulls you back to consciousness.Deep. Uninterrupted.When I opened my eyes, I was lying on my back. I hadn’t done that in eight years.Aria was in my arms.My hand rested at her waist as though it had always belonged there. Her head lay on my chest, her breath warm against my skin, her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt as if anchoring herself.Or anchoring me.The last time I slept like this, Elsa had been beside me.The thought came without warning. Not sharp. Not violent. Just present.Aria shifted slightly, pressing closer in her sleep.Something inside me, something I had dismantled piece by piece, stirred.For eight years, I had turned things off.Desire. Ease. Want.I had rebuilt myself in clean lines. Discipline. Structure. Strategy.And now she lay against me, unaware, walking through the architecture of my restraint and switching everything back

Aria’s POVThe silence after the video ended did not feel like quiet. It felt like pressure. Like something invisible pressing against my skull, demanding that I choose a side.I had two stories.My mother’s, complete with edited footage, righteous outrage, and a man painted as a villain.And now his, supported by documents, timestamps, original files, and bruises that had been cropped out.Two versions.Two realities.Only one of them could be true.“And Elsa?” I heard myself ask.My voice sounded steady, but my pulse was not.“You said I’m not her replacement.” I swallowed. “What happened to her?”I wasn’t asking for gossip. I was testing him.If he was lying to me, this was where it would show.For a moment, nothing changed.Then something did. It was subtle, a shift in the air, almost.His expression didn’t harden. It didn’t flare with anger the way I had expected.It… dimmed.“Untimely death,” he said quietly.Not clipped. Not defensive. Quiet.“How?” I pressed.He looked at me