December lights glittered across Chicago’s skyline, reflecting off glass towers like quiet promises.
But to Ethan Reynolds, a 40-year-old tech mogul, the view only deepened the emptiness he’d learned to hide behind tailored suits and investor meetings.
His penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan was perfectly dressed for Christmas—custom ornaments, a towering tree, soft amber lights—yet the space felt airless, as if warmth itself had lost interest.
Ethan stood near the tree, wine untouched in his hand, when Marisol Vega, his housekeeper, came in to finish her shift.
Trailing behind her was her daughter, Hannah, a Santa hat slipping over his eyes as they prepared to head home for the holiday.
Hannah stopped suddenly, staring up at Ethan.
“Mom… why is he spending Christmas all alone?”
Marisol stiffened. “Hannah, that’s not polite.”
But Ethan wasn’t offended. The question struck deeper than any hostile boardroom ever had.
After a pause, Marisol spoke gently. “Mr. Reynolds… my family is having Christmas dinner tonight. It’s nothing fancy, but if you’d like to come… you’d be welcome.”
Ethan offered his practiced smile. “Thank you, Marisol. But I’ll be fine.”
Hannah tugged lightly at Ethan’s sleeve. “Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”
They left. Silence flooded back in, heavier than before. Ethan wandered his penthouse, stared at the unused place setting, tried answering emails that didn’t matter. Only one sentence echoed.
Nobody should be alone on Christmas.
At 9:10 p.m., he grabbed his coat.
By 9:22, he stood outside Marisol’s modest brick home in Aurora, crooked Christmas lights blinking like shy greetings.
He lifted his hand to knock—
The door opened.
Warmth spilled out. Laughter. The smell of roasted chicken and cinnamon. A crowded living room filled with people who clearly belonged to one another. Marisol stood there, surprised but smiling.
“Ethan,” she said softly. “You came.”
As he stepped inside, his phone vibrated.
Jonathan Reynolds — Father.
Ethan’s chest tightened. His father never called without a reason tied to power. He stepped into the hallway and answered.
“You’ve embarrassed yourself,” Jonathan snapped. “Walking into an employee’s home? It damages the Reynolds image. Leave. Now. Or I’ll make sure the board replaces you.”
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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