The Grand Palais ballroom in downtown Manhattan was a cathedral of absolute, breathtaking opulence

Winter arrived in Manhattan, blanketing the city in a thick layer of soft, white snow. Central Park looked like a fairytale landscape, and the city streets were illuminated by millions of twinkling holiday lights.

Inside the penthouse, a towering twenty-foot Christmas tree stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, decorated with thousands of gold ornaments, warm white lights, and hand-painted decorations that Clara and Julian had spent weeks making together.

It was Christmas Eve.

The penthouse was filled with the delicious scent of roasted turkey, cinnamon cookies, and fresh pine. Soft jazz Christmas music played quietly through the surround-sound speakers.

Julian sat on the floor near the roaring fireplace, wearing comfortable flannel pajamas, helping Lily stack colorful wooden blocks. Clara was sitting nearby, carefully wrapping a small homemade gift for her baby sister.

A soft chime sounded on Julian’s phone. It was a digital update from his legal team regarding the federal trials in Midtown. Eleanor Sterling and Arthur Vance had both entered guilty pleas to federal fraud charges, sentenced to eight years and twelve years in federal custody respectively.

Julian read the notification quietly, set his phone face down on the coffee table, and let out a long, peaceful breath. There was no anger left in his heart—only a quiet, permanent closure.

"Daddy!" Clara called out, running over with a large red Santa hat and placing it crookedly on his head. "Look! It's snowing really hard outside!"

Julian laughed, pulling Clara into his lap and tickling her until she giggled uncontrollably. "Is Santa going to be able to fly in all that snow?"

"Yes!" Clara insisted, her hazel eyes shining with absolute childhood magic. "Because we left him extra cookies and milk on the table!"

Mrs. Gable walked into the living room, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate with oversized marshmallows, smiling warmly at the sight. "Bedtime for little princesses, Mr. Sterling. Santa won't come if anyone is awake."

Julian carried both girls into their cozy, sunlit bedroom suite, tucking them beneath thick down comforters. He sat on the edge of Clara’s bed, holding her small hand while Lily dozed off in her crib nearby.

"Daddy?" Clara whispered sleepily, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"Yes, my sweet girl?"

"Thank you for coming to get us at the big wedding," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being my daddy."