Chapter 88 Christmas Night
If anyone outside the Valmere gates could see them now, they wouldn’t believe it.
The same family feared by boardrooms and governments alike was sprawled across the living hall floor, arguing over rules to a game Deborah had clearly invented on the spot.
“I still don’t understand why there’s a bell involved,” Caelum said flatly, holding the small brass bell between two fingers like it might explode.
“Because,” Deborah replied patiently, sitting cross-legged on the rug, “when someone lies, you ring it.”
Lucio narrowed his eyes. “And who decides what counts as a lie?”
Deborah smiled sweetly. “Everyone.”
“That’s mob justice.”
“Welcome to family Christmas,” Aston said, already ringing the bell just to annoy him.
Caelum shot him a warning look. “Do that again and I’ll confiscate the bell.”
Deborah cleared her throat. “Next game. This one is called Two Truths and One Valmere Lie.”
Knight tilted his head. “That sounds… dangerous.”
“It’s simple,” she explained. “You say three statements. Two are true, one is false. Everyone guesses the lie.”
Lucio smirked. “This is literally built for us.”
Aston jumped in first. “Fine. Me first.”
He stood dramatically. “One: I once snuck out of the mansion through the west wall when I was sixteen. Two: I hacked Caelum’s private schedule just to see how boring it was. Three: I hate Christmas.”
Caelum didn’t even hesitate. “The third one is the lie.”
Aston blinked. “How did you... .”
“You’re incapable of hating anything that comes with food.”
Deborah laughed, ringing the bell. “Correct.”
Lucio leaned toward Aston. “You really hacked his schedule?”
Aston shrugged. “It was color-coded. I was disappointed.”
Caelum closed his eyes. “I’m surrounded by children.”
Knight went next.
“One,” he said calmly. “I’ve taken a bullet meant for someone in this room. Two: I dislike sweets. Three: I’ve never broken protocol.”
Deborah frowned. “You’ve definitely broken protocol.”
Lucio nodded. “More than once.”
Knight allowed himself a small smile. “Correct. The third is the lie.”
Aston stared at him. “Wait.......who did you take a bullet for?”
Knight didn’t answer.
Deborah didn’t push.
Lucio’s turn was chaos.
“One: I once pretended to be sick to avoid a negotiation. Two: I know everyone’s worst habit in this room. Three: I’ve never lied to Deborah.”
The bell rang instantly.
“That last one,” Deborah said flatly. “Absolutely the lie.”
Lucio placed a hand over his heart. “Wounded.”
“You should be,” Caelum muttered.
After that came Christmas Charades, which Aston insisted on moderating despite clearly abusing his power.
“Okay,” he announced, holding a card. “This is a movie.”
Lucio started acting dramatic movements, exaggerated expressions, clearly overdoing it.
Deborah squinted. “Is that… espionage?”
“No,” Aston said. “It’s romantic.”
Caelum stared. “That’s not romantic. That’s espionage with bad posture.”
Lucio pointed accusingly. “You’re just mad because I’m good at this.”
Knight finally said, “It’s The Godfather.”
Aston groaned. “Why do you always ruin it?”
Later came cards.
Deborah learned very quickly that Lucio cheated, Caelum pretended not to notice, and Knight quietly ensured Aston never won twice in a row.
At one point, Deborah laughed so hard she had to cover her face, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
Caelum noticed.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, still smiling. “I just… didn’t know it could be like this.”
He looked around the room, then back at her. “Neither did we.”
As the night deepened, the fire burned lower, and voices softened. Aston lay on the floor staring at the ceiling.
“You know,” he said casually, “this might be the first Christmas where no one threatened anyone. ”
Lucio raised an eyebrow. “Yet.”
Deborah smiled, pulling a blanket around her shoulders. “No threats allowed tonight. Remember?”
Knight looked toward the dark windows, then back at the family gathered inside. “Then let’s keep it that way,” he said quietly.
The laughter didn’t fade after the games ended. Instead, it lingered, drifting through the mansion like something fragile they were all afraid to scare away.
Deborah stood near the long table, reorganizing the game cards she had scattered everywhere earlier, when Aston suddenly clapped his hands loudly.
“Wait. We’re not done,” he announced.
Caelum sighed. “Yes, we are.”
“No, we’re not,” Aston insisted. “It’s Christmas night. We still haven’t done the worst tradition.”
Deborah turned slowly. “There’s a worse one?”
Lucio’s lips curved into something dangerous. “He means the dares.”
Knight immediately said, “No.”
“Oh come on,” Aston protested. “Family only. No reputations. Just… honesty.”
Caelum gave Deborah a look. “This is how wars start.”
Deborah thought about it for a moment, then surprised all of them by smiling. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m moderating.”
Knight studied her face. “You’re enjoying this.”
She shrugged. “I earned it.”
They settled back onto the couches and floor, closer now, more relaxed, legs stretched out, jackets abandoned. The fire crackled louder, throwing shadows across the walls as if the mansion itself were listening.
Deborah picked up a folded slip of paper. “First dare,” she read. Her eyes flicked up. “Lucio.”
Lucio leaned back. “Of course.”
“You have to answer one question truthfully,” she continued. “No deflection. No sarcasm.”
Aston grinned. “Oh, this is going to hurt.”
Deborah met Lucio’s eyes. “What scares you the most?”
The room quieted instantly.
Lucio blinked once, clearly not expecting that. He opened his mouth, closed it, then let out a slow breath.
“Losing control,” he said finally. “Not power. Not status. Control over myself.”
No one laughed.
Caelum nodded once. “Fair.”
Deborah gently folded the paper and moved on. “Next. Aston.”
Aston straightened. “Hit me.”
“You have to cook breakfast tomorrow,” she said calmly. “Alone.”
Aston’s face fell. “That’s not a dare. That’s an execution.”
Knight smirked. “I’ll supervise.”
“No,” Deborah said sweetly. “You’re banned from helping.”
Caelum actually laughed, a short sound that surprised even him.
“Tell us something embarrassing,” Deborah said.
Aston immediately pointed. “Caelum.”
Caelum didn’t deny it. “When I was twelve, I cried because my tie wasn’t symmetrical.”
Lucio stared. “You still cry about that.”
“That’s different.”
Deborah smiled softly, watching them. The way they spoke, interrupted each other, argued without real anger it felt intimate in a way no boardroom ever could.
Aston lay flat on the rug again. “You know,” he said lazily, “if the public ever saw this, our reputation would be destroyed.”
Deborah glanced at him. “Good.”
He turned his head toward her. “You really don’t care about that, do you?”
She thought for a moment. “I care about what matters. This matters.”
Knight watched her then, something unreadable passing behind his eyes.
Deborah found herself sitting beside the fireplace, staring into the flames, when Caelum quietly joined her.
“You did good tonight,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“You did,” he replied. “You reminded us how to be… human.”
She didn’t answer right away. Then, softly, “Thank you for trusting me with this.”
Caelum nodded. “We don’t do that often.”
Across the room, Lucio was half-asleep, Aston mumbling something about rematches, Knight standing near the window, vigilant even now.
And Deborah, sitting in the heart of it all, realized something quietly terrifying.
Outside, the snow continued to fall and somewhere beyond the gates, the past kept moving closer.