I Wished for Someone to Want Me at Christmas, and the Most Feared Man in Boston Heard Every Word

That evening, sitting across from Nico in the candlelit dining room of their Beacon Hill home, Clara debated whether to show him the letter. The table was laden with roasted duck and wine, but neither of them had touched their food.

"You've been staring at that piece of heavy cardstock for twenty minutes, Clara," Nico remarked quietly, setting down his silver fork. His dark eyes narrowed slightly with protective suspicion. "What did they send you?"

Knowing there was no point in keeping secrets from the most feared man in Boston—a man who usually found out everything within hours anyway—Clara slid the cream-colored letter across the polished mahogany surface.

Nico’s expression remained unreadable as his eyes scanned the elegant script. But as he reached the final lines—*Your future, and Nico’s true origins, depend on it*—a muscle twitched dangerously along his jawline.

"Eleanor Vance-Montgomery," Nico muttered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. "She hasn't set foot in Boston in over a decade. She lives like a ghost in Rhode Island, hiding behind trust funds and philanthropy."

"Nico, what does she mean by 'your true origins'?" Clara asked, leaning forward, her heart pounding. "You told me you built your empire from the ground up, that you had no family left, that the Vales destroyed everything your parents—"

Nico raised a hand, cutting her off gently. The darkness in his eyes ran deeper than Clara had ever seen, a bottomless trench of suppressed history. "My father was an accountant for the Vance conglomerate thirty years ago, Clara. Before Julian took over, before the empire turned ruthless. My father discovered a ledger detailing systemic embezzlement orchestrated by Julian’s father. A week later, our house burned to the ground. My parents didn't survive."

Clara gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Nico... I had no idea. You never told me."

"Because ghosts belong in the past," Nico said coldly, standing up so abruptly his chair scraped loudly against the floor. "And Eleanor Vance is trying to drag up skeletons that should stay buried."

"Or," Clara countered softly, standing up to face him, "she’s offering you the final piece of the puzzle. The proof you’ve spent your entire life hunting for. Nico, you can't ignore this. If she knows something about what happened to your family..."

Nico stared down at her, the internal war raging behind his dark eyes clearly visible. Finally, a heavy, defeated sigh escaped his lips. He closed the distance between them, cupping her cheek. "I’m going to Newport. But you are staying right here, under heavy guard."