Chapter 44 Christmas Day Inferno
Christmas morning dawned with a deceptive calm, sunlight filtering through the cabin's massive glass windows in pale, golden shafts that danced across the polished concrete floors. The lake outside was a frozen mirror, reflecting the snow-dusted pines like a postcard from a winter dream. Inside, the air carried the faint, lingering scent of last night's cinnamon-spiced cider and the crackling embers of the fire that had burned low overnight. Ornaments on the tree caught the light, twinkling softly, but the festive glow couldn't mask the undercurrent of tension that had simmered since our arrival.
Alexander woke first, as always, his internal clock tuned to the predawn hush. The cabin was silent except for the distant creak of wood settling against the cold. He dressed quickly in black jeans and a gray sweater, the fabric cool against his skin, then padded downstairs on bare feet. The kitchen's matte black cabinets gleamed under the recessed lights he flicked on, and the coffee machine hummed to life, filling the space with the rich, bitter aroma of dark roast brewing.
He poured a mug steaming, black, and stepped out onto the deck. The cold hit like a slap, crisp and invigorating, carrying the sharp tang of pine resin and frozen earth. Snow crunched under his feet as he leaned against the railing, sipping slowly, the hot liquid burning a path down his throat.
The lake stretched before him, its surface etched with delicate frost patterns, the woods beyond a wall of silent sentinels. Peaceful. Too peaceful for the storm he knew was brewing.
Ben joined him ten minutes later. The door slid open with a soft whoosh, and Ben stepped out in a red plaid shirt and khakis, festive, calculated. He carried his own mug, steam curling up like smoke signals. His eyes, sharp, assessing, took in Alexander's relaxed posture, the way he stared at the lake as if the world’s weight didn’t rest on his shoulders.
"Merry Christmas," Ben said, voice light but edged, leaning against the railing a few feet away. The wood groaned faintly under his weight.
Alexander nodded once, not turning. "Same to you."
Ben sipped his coffee, the steam fogging his breath in the icy air. He stared at the lake too, but his mind churned: He's too calm. Always too damn calm. Like he owns everything, including her. The thought festered, bubbling up.
"Still thinking about that shopping trip and that intimate dinner at the restaurant," Ben said casually, as if it had just occurred to him. "You and Maddie in the city. Dinner at that fancy place. Why not head back to the estate after shopping? Seems... cozy."
Alexander's mug paused halfway to his lips. He didn't respond, just took a slow sip, the bitter heat grounding him.
Ben's grip tightened on his mug, the ceramic warm against his palms. The silence grated. "I mean, I get it, playing the good father-in-law, right? Spoiling her a bit. But holding hands across the table? That's... intimate for family."
Alexander finally glanced sideways, expression neutral, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Keep pushing, boy. Show your hand.
The smirk hit Ben like a spark to dry tinder. Smug bastard. Thinks he's untouchable. He set his mug down on the railing with a deliberate clink, steam rising like anger. "Or maybe you didn't come back that day at all. Rumors flying about something happening at the estate, break-in, damage. Guards everywhere. What was it, Alexander? And why whisk her away for a 'shopping trip' right after?"
Alexander turned fully now, leaning back against the railing, arms crossed. The wood was cold through his sweater, but he ignored it. His smirk deepened slightly, calculated, infuriating. He knows nothing. Just fishing in the dark.
Ben's face flushed, the cold air biting at his cheeks but doing nothing to cool the rage building. Look at him, smirking like he owns me too. God, if he's touching her... He stepped closer, voice rising. "You think I'm stupid? I see it, the looks, the touches. If you're screwing my wife…"
The shout echoed across the frozen lake, bouncing off the trees like a crack in the ice.
Upstairs, Ben's raised voice sliced through my sleep like a knife, sharp, angry, pulling me from a hazy dream of snow-covered woods. I bolted upright, heart pounding, the sheets tangled around my legs in a cool, sweaty grip. The room was dim, sunlight filtering through the curtains in soft, diffused beams, carrying the faint scent of pine from the open vent. My pulse raced in my ears, drowning out the distant crackle of the fire downstairs.
What the hell?
I threw off the covers, feet hitting the chilled hardwood with a soft thud. The air was crisp, laced with the residual warmth of last night's embers and the sharp tang of fresh snow seeping through the window cracks. Ben's voice boomed again, rambling, furious, words like "screwing my wife" cutting through the floorboards.
Adrenaline surged, hot and electric, chasing away the last fog of sleep. I grabbed my robe from the chair, a soft terrycloth. My slippers muffled my steps as I hurried down the hall, the banister smooth and cold under my palm.
The argument grew louder with each step, the creak of the deck wood outside, the wind sighing through the pines, Ben's voice cracking with rage. "You think you can just take what's mine? Smirking like you're above it all? I'll expose you, Alexander, drag your name through the mud! The board will eat it up, and you'll lose everything!"
I reached the main room, the polished concrete cool under my feet, and pushed open the sliding glass door to the deck. Cold air slapped my face, carrying the sharp bite of frost and pine sap, snow crunching faintly underfoot.
The scene froze me.
Alexander had Ben by the collar, lifted off the ground like he weighed nothing, Ben's feet dangling an inch above the deck boards. Alexander's face was a mask of controlled fury, eyes dark as storm clouds, jaw clenched, the muscles in his arms corded like steel cables under his sweater. The coffee mugs lay forgotten on the railing, steam curling lazily into the air.
Ben's face was red, veins bulging in his neck, hands clawing at Alexander's grip. "Let...go…you bastard"
Alexander's voice was low, lethal, cutting through the wind like a blade. "Watch your mouth, Ben. You're in my house, leeching off my hard-earned money, playing games you can't win. Threaten me again, and you'll regret it."
Ben sputtered, rage twisting his features. "You think you're untouchable? I'll find proof, I’ll ruin you."
I stepped forward, the cold seeping through my slippers, heart slamming against my ribs. The deck wood was slick with melting frost, the lake beyond a frozen expanse glinting under the sun. "What the hell is going on?"
Alexander's head snapped toward me, his grip on Ben loosening just enough for Ben's feet to touch the deck. The wind whipped my hair, carrying the distant crack of ice on the lake, but the tension between them hung heavier than the cold.