Chapter 4 - The Midnight Awakening
The kitchen door swung open with a soft, smooth motion.
Jenna jumped, her head snapping up in alarm. She scrambled off her stool, pulling Daisy slightly behind her, her protective instincts flaring instantly.
Matthew stepped into the light. He had removed his suit jacket; his crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, lightly tanned forearms. His expression was unreadable, but the cold arrogance that had defined him earlier was entirely gone, replaced by a strange, intense concentration.
"Mr. Hail," Jenna stammered, her heart racing. "I’m sorry. We were just finishing up. We’ll clean the plates—"
"Leave the plates," Matthew said, his voice low and commanding. He didn't look at Jenna. His gaze was fixed entirely on Daisy, who stared back at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
Matthew walked over to the stainless steel island, stopping a few feet away from the little girl. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a sleek, black leather cardholder. He didn't open it. Instead, he rested it on the counter between them.
"How old are you, Daisy?" Matthew asked.
The question caught Jenna off guard. "She’s... she’s five, Mr. Hail. Why?"
"Five," Matthew repeated, nodding slowly. He looked back at Daisy. "Do you know what today is?"
"Christmas Eve," Daisy whispered. "Santa comes tonight."
"Does he?" Matthew’s lips twitched into a microscopic, bittersweet smile. "That’s a common rumor. But I happen to know for a fact that Santa’s logistics network in the Beacon Hill area is severely backlogged this year."
Daisy’s lower lip quivered slightly. "He is?"
"Terribly backlogged," Matthew said firmly. "In fact, I received a secure transmission just moments ago indicating that due to severe weather conditions in the North District, several deliveries have been diverted to local contractors."
Jenna stared at him, utterly bewildered. "Mr. Hail, what are you talking about?"
Matthew ignored her. He pulled out his high-end smartphone from his pocket, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen with the practiced, lightning-fast speed of a man who moved millions of dollars with a single tap.
"Siri," Matthew said clearly, his voice echoing in the quiet kitchen. "Call Marcus Vance."
The phone rang twice before a gruff, deeply bewildered voice answered on the other end. “Hail? Do you know what time it is? It’s two o’clock in the morning on Christmas Eve.”
"Marcus, I need you to wake up," Matthew said, his tone absolute, leaving no room for argument.
“Are you out of your mind? I’m in bed with my wife in Weston. Call my office on Monday.”
"I’m not calling your office, Marcus. I’m calling your retail investments. Specifically, the high-end toy boutique on Charles Street—'The Enchanted Wood.' I need you to call the owner. Tell him to open the store in thirty minutes."
A heavy silence hung on the line. “Open... open a toy store at two in the morning on Christmas Eve? Have you been drinking, Matthew? What kind of corporate hostile takeover are you running now?”
"It’s not a takeover, Marcus. It’s an emergency procurement," Matthew said, his eyes shifting from his phone to look directly at Daisy. "A little girl in my house doesn't have a Christmas tree, and her coat is too short. If the store isn't open by three, I’m pulling my capital out of your venture fund by sunrise."
“You’re insane!” Marcus shouted through the speaker. “You’re completely, clinically insane!”
"Three o'clock, Marcus. Merry Christmas."
Matthew hung up before the other man could reply. He dropped the phone onto the counter with a soft clack.
Jenna was trembling. She gripped the edge of the counter, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of shock, confusion, and a sudden, terrifying flicker of hope that she was too afraid to name.
"Mr. Hail," Jenna said, her voice shaking violently. "What... what are you doing? We don't want your charity. We can't accept—"
"This isn't charity, Mrs. Carter," Matthew interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a weight that made it impossible to argue with. He stepped closer, looking down at Jenna with an intensity that burned right through her defenses. "This is an inventory correction. For ten years, this house has operated at a deficit of human life. I am simply balancing the books."
May you like
He turned back to Daisy, offering his hand—not a commanding gesture, but an open, tentative invitation.
"Well, Daisy?" Matthew asked softly, a faint, rare warmth finally touching his eyes. "Are you going to let me freeze walking down Charles Street alone, or are we going to go buy a Christmas tree?"
