CHAPTER 40: THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE

Antonio scoffed. "They must. They were born into this family. Into responsibility."

"No," Alexander countered, eyes sharp. "They were born into a family that failed to protect them from responsibility too soon. I know what it’s like to grow up under constant pressure. I know what it’s like to be dragged into meetings I didn’t understand, forced to smile at people who wanted to buy and sell us like products. I know what it’s like to be told, at fifteen, that weakness is a sin."

He held Antonio’s gaze, unflinching. "I won’t let them feel that. Not yet. Not when they barely understand who they are."

Antonio’s voice hardened. "Life doesn’t wait for anyone to ’understand themselves.’ That’s nonsense."

"Then I’ll hold the line until they’re old enough," Alexander replied. "Until they can walk in your world without breaking."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, speaking with a restrained intensity. "You want them to be strong? Let them grow first. Let them build a life that isn’t defined by your expectations or your past. When they’re ready, I’ll take them into the business myself. But not at seventeen. Not when Nathan is still traumatized from being taken away from the only home he knew."

Antonio’s expression twitched, just a flicker, but noticeable.

Alexander continued, gentler this time. "Lucas is broken because someone pushed him too early. You know what happened. You know why he flinches when a certain name is mentioned. You know why he can’t sleep without the lights on. Don’t pretend ignorance."

Antonio clenched his cigar so tightly the ash cracked off. "He was weak."

"No," Alexander said sharply. "He was a child!"

Silence stretched between them. The guards kept their eyes fixed forward, pretending not to hear a conversation that could reshape their entire family hierarchy.

Alexander pressed on. "Grandpa... I’m strong because someone had to be. I’m strong because you trained me like a soldier. I’m strong because you never cared if I cried. I endured it. I survived it. And now I’m using that strength to shield my brothers."

His voice lowered. "Let me carry the burden. Not them."

Antonio drummed his fingers on the table, agitation radiating off him. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping sharply across the marble floor. "You think you know better than me," he muttered, glowering. "You think your way will save them."

Alexander rose as well. "I think it’s the only way they won’t end up resenting this family."

Antonio gave a cold, dissatisfied snort, grabbing his cane. "Fine. Do it your way. But don’t come crying to me when they disappoint you."

"I won’t," Alexander replied quietly.

Antonio shot him one last glare, harsh, frustrated, but with a shade of something else beneath it. Something like... reluctant acknowledgment.

Then he turned, his cane tapping angrily against the marble as he stormed out, leaving behind a trail of smoke and discontent.

Alexander waited until the old man’s footsteps disappeared, then finally let his shoulders fall. For a moment, he allowed himself a single breath of relief.

Antonio’s steps echoed down the hallway, sharp, steady, irritated. The aftertaste of the argument still clung to him. His cane tapped angrily against the marble with each stride. He muttered curses under his breath.

But after all, he knew and understood how capable Alexander was. He was his confidant.

When he reached the foyer, a glimmer of movement outside caught his attention. Antonio stopped. A faint sound, laughter, something that piqued his curiosity.

He turned his head slightly toward the large window overlooking the garden.

And there they were.

Nathan, Nael, Lucas, Malvin, and even Roger—who was definitely leading this activity—stood together around a tall evergreen tree placed near the fountain. The guards must have set it up earlier, but they were decorating it themselves. There were boxes of ornaments everywhere, ribbons strewn across the ground, lights tangled in ways only teenagers could manage.

Nael stretched on his toes on the stairs, trying to hang a silver star while Roger held his waist to keep him from falling. Lucas argued that the star was crooked, while Malvin insisted it was "artistically angled." Nathan stood a step away, not looking impressed but helping anyway, holding the string of lights.

Their laughter filled the cold winter air, their breath forming small clouds. For a moment, the world outside felt soft, harmless, untouched by the harshness Antonio was used to.

The old man’s steps slowed involuntarily. He moved closer to the window, not too close, just enough to see their faces clearly. Nael’s grin. Malvin’s calm concentration. Lucas’s playful shove at his brothers. Roger rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself. Nathan awkwardly trying to untangle a clump of lights.

Antonio didn’t open the window. Didn’t say anything.

He simply watched.

Something warm tugged inside his chest, as unwelcome as it was familiar. Nostalgia crept in like a ghost, uninvited but impossible to ignore.

He remembered his own childhood winters. Decorating a tree with his siblings, before his father became too strict and too powerful to allow such nonsense. Before joy became weakness. Before he was taught that affection softened men into something fragile. Before he learned that laughter was a luxury no heir could afford.

He blinked slowly.

They look... happy.

The thought irritated him, or maybe it comforted him. He wasn’t sure which. He only knew the ache inside him was something he hadn’t felt in decades.

Without realizing it, a small smile graced his lips. He chuckled then.

Lucas tossed a snowball at Roger, who dodged dramatically. Nael laughed, loud, genuine, carefree. Antonio’s fingers twitched on the handle of his cane. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard laughter like that in this house. Such a nice sound.

He stood there for several long seconds, expression unreadable. He smiled slightly, his jaw unclenched. His shoulders loosened.

Just a little.

Then, before the warmth could settle, he straightened his back, turned away from the window, and snapped the moment shut inside his chest.

He walked past the front door, ignoring the distant sounds of them arguing over ornament placement. His guard rushed to open the car door, but Antonio didn’t acknowledge him. He stepped inside, closed the door himself, and stared forward.

He said nothing.

But inside, something small, a memory, a warmth, shifted.

And it traveled with him as the car pulled away.

They all fell silent watching Antonio’s escort cars leave the gate. Roger was the first to sigh deeply.

"Whew! Finally..." he shouted loudly.

Malvin just smiled. "Nathan, do you want to put your star next to Nael’s?" he asked.

Nathan, who was still busy with the light cables, turned to Malvin and looked at the Christmas tree. He saw that a star was already perched on top.

Nael nodded happily. "Yes, put your star on top!" he exclaimed.

Nathan was silent, but then shook his head. Nael tried to persuade him, but the boy insisted he didn’t want to get involved.

Frowning, Nael grabbed another red ball and hung it on a branch of the tree.

Nathan stood up, but suddenly he felt a push. He turned and found Alexander looking at him and smiling.

At that moment, for some reason, his hatred for the man diminished slightly. Maybe it was because the man had saved him several times. But what was most memorable was how the man had protected them all from Antonio, convincing him that Alexander was a figure worthy of respect.

"Don’t frown. Put your star on top, I’ll help you up," said Alexander in his calm voice.

Nathan wanted to refuse, but he felt his tongue was tied. He finally obeyed, placing the star next to Nael’s. His brothers’ cheers silenced him. But he couldn’t deny that he was happy tonight.

Even though his butt hurt.

And one Christmas tree stood with beautiful, twinkling lights that night, decorated with snow in the middle of the night.

Perhaps this was Nael’s first Christmas tree. And also the first Christmas tree that Nathan didn’t hate.