The Fernandez helicopter touched down softly on the rooftop landing pad, the snow swirling in the red and green navigation lights like magical dust.
The door slid open, and the cold, crisp air of Christmas night rushed in.
Elijah stepped out first, his usual stern expression softened by the faintest hint of relief.
He turned and carefully took Juliet from Riven's arms.
Their baby sister was a vision, bundled in a beautiful, fluffy white snowsuit with a little matching hat, her cheeks rosy from the cold.
"Okay, princesa," Elijah murmured, his voice a low rumble. "We're home."
He and Riven each took one of her tiny, mittened hands. With them supporting her, her little booted feet paddled happily through the fresh, powdery snow on the rooftop.
Leo climbed out after them, still looking a bit green and shivering, but the sight of the peaceful, snow-covered city seemed to calm him. The nightmare of the blue water was finally over.
But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he led them downstairs.
The mansion was gone. In its place was something out of a Christmas movie.
The entire house was a explosion of color and light.
Bright red and green lights wrapped around every banister, giant candy canes stood by the door, and a wreath with a big, sparkly bow hung on every window.
The sound of Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" mixed with Jose Feliciano's "Feliz Navidad" blasted through the speakers, creating a joyful, chaotic noise.
The grand foyer, usually a scene of minimalist, intimidating elegance, had been completely transformed. It looked like a Christmas store had exploded.
Strings of bright, multi-colored lights were draped everywhere.
A gigantic, lopsided Christmas tree stood in the corner, looking like it had been decorated by a very enthusiastic tornado, covered in what seemed like every single ornament ever made.
Tinsel was thrown over picture frames, and a truly alarming number of plastic reindeer were scattered about.
And standing in the middle of it all ,stood an eight-year-old Enzo, dressed head-to-toe in a green elf costume, complete with pointy shoes and jingly bells.
"You're back!" he yelled, beaming. "Do you like it? I told Julian and Timothy we needed Christmas energy because Juilet 's first Christmas. They helped!"
Just then, Julian, now 18, limped down the grand staircase, leaning heavily on the railing. He was wearing a black band t-shirt, but the rock music blasting from his phone somehow fit right in with the Christmas songs.
" Since you guys left me behind on your super-secret 'mission'," he announced, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "a man gets bored. And Enzo is very convincing."
Elijah and Riven just stood there, frozen in the doorway, their minds struggling to process the scene. This was their fortress. Their safe house.
It was supposed to be all sharp angles and cold marble. Now it looked like Santa's workshop had thrown up in it.
Riven, especially, looked completely taken aback. He blinked, looking from a giant inflatable snowman to a life-sized nutcracker soldier. "What the ...?" was all he could manage.
But Juliet, who was holding her two biggest brothers' hands, knew exactly what this was
Her eyes went wide as saucers, taking in the sparkling lights, the bright colors, the music. A huge, gummy smile spread across her face.
"Ooh! Dah!" she squealed, letting go of their hands and immediately starting to fuss, wriggling furiously. "Pway! Pway!"
Juliet let out a louder whimper, and his entire focus snapped back to her.
"Shhh, I know, bunny," he murmured, scooping her up again and rocking her.
He walked right past the glittering tree, past the inflatable snowman, and straight past Enzo.
"Elijah, look!" Enzo said, his voice a little louder, trailing after him. "The lights on the tree blink in a pattern! I figured out the timer!"
Elijah didn't seem to hear. He was focused on sitting on the bottom step and gently untangling Juliet from her heavy winter coat.
Riven, coming in behind him, did a double-take. "Whoa. Kid, you did all this?" he said, clapping a hand on Enzo's shoulder, jingling the bells.
Enzo's eyes stayed on Elijah. "Yeah. Do you think... does he like it?"
Riven followed his gaze. "He will, shortstack. He's just got a one-track mind right now."
From the kitchen, Tia Rosa appeared. She saw Elijah on the steps, cooing at Juliet. She saw Enzo, watching him.
"Elijah," Tia Rosa called out gently. "Your brother has been waiting to show you what he's done."
"In a minute, Tia," Elijah said softly, not looking up as he finally got Juliet's coat off. "Her cheeks are so cold from the helicopter."
Juliet, finally free, was set down on the floor. Her tears vanished. Her eyes went wide, taking in the sparkling lights. A huge, gummy smile spread across her face.
"Ooh! Dah!" she squealed, toddling straight towards the Christmas tree.
Elijah's face broke into a wide, genuine smile. "Look at her go," he laughed, his eyes shining with pride.
Enzo took a small step forward, his voice hopeful. "She really likes the tree. I picked all the red and gold ornaments because they're shiny."
"She does," Elijah said, his eyes still glued to Juliet. "She loves it."
Enzo stood there for another moment, the jingle bells on his costume silent. Then his shoulders slumped just a little. "Oh," he said quietly, to no one in particular. "Okay."
He turned and walked slowly toward the kitchen, the cheerful music and bright lights feeling a little less magical than they had a minute before.
THE NEXT MORNING
A DON'S CHRISTMAS
Elijah Fernandez didn't do Christmas. He did business.
While the rest of the world was sleeping off eggnog and unwrapping presents, he was already in his black marble office at 5AM, the sky outside still dark.
A soft knock interrupted the silence.
Viktor, his head of security, a mountain of a man who rarely showed emotion, looked uncharacteristically nervous. "Boss? A small request. The men... they were hoping, if the city is quiet today, to have a few hours with their families—"
BRRRRING.
The sharp, demanding ring of Elijah's private phone cut through the room like a gunshot. Viktor immediately shut his mouth, snapping back to attention.
Elijah didn't even look at him. His eyes were locked on the Moscow number flashing on his screen. He picked it up.
Elijah snatched the phone. "Слушаю," he barked. I'm listening.
His voice was a low, dangerous purr as he switched to fluent Russian. "Алексей. Вы опоздали." Alexey. You're late.
He listened, his jaw tightening. "Нет. Мое предложение не обсуждается." No. My offer is not up for discussion.
Another pause. Elijah's knuckles were white. "Двадцать минут. Не заставляйте себя ждать." Twenty minutes. Don't be late.
He slammed the phone down.
He turned his glacial gaze back to Viktor. "Family is a privilege for peaceful men. We are not peaceful men. Triple the guards. The Volkovs are not to be trusted."
Viktor nodded sharply. "Yes, boss."
Just then, a strange sound came from the hallway. A whirring electronic motor. A tinny version of "Jingle Bells."
The heavy oak door to his office was pushed open, not by a hand, but by a bright red, toddler-sized plastic car.
Elijah's head snapped up, his patience shattering. The Russians were minutes away, and someone was playing games?
"WHAT?!" he roared, his voice thunderous, ready to fire whoever was stupid enough to interrupt him now.
But it wasn't a soldier. It wasn't a maid.
Behind the wheel of the tiny electric car sat Juilet in her cute reindeer pajamas, her face and hands covered in sticky, red strawberry jam
She gripped the plastic steering wheel with both hands, her tongue stuck out in concentration.
She looked up at him, her big, hazel eyes blinking.
"Vroom-vroom, Ijah!" she announced, expertly parallel parking her little car right next to his desk.
All the anger, all the tension, just... evaporated. The fearsome Don stared down at his baby sister, a mob boss in training, parked in her getaway car.
He knelt down, his suit pants be damned. "Hey, mi sol," he said, his voice suddenly soft and gentle. "What have you got there?"
And that's when he heard it. From down the hall, the vibrant, joyful beats of a Marc Anthony song, mixed with Tia Rosa's loud, happy laughter and the chatter of her friends.
A full-blown, unapproved, Spanish Christmas party had taken over his kitchen, while Russian mobsters were en route to his office.
Elijah knew he had ninety seconds before the Volkovs entered his home.
Ninety seconds to turn this flaming clown parade back into a fortress.
"Juliet, mi sol, come here," he said, voice tense, smile tight, the way people smile right before committing homicide.
Juliet, being the tiny agent of chaos she was, simply threw her car in reverse.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
She peeled out of his office like a toddler in Fast & Furious: Daycare Drift.
"Of course," Elijah muttered, mentally updating his list of things to destroy later. Step one: the car. Step two: the staircase it was headed toward.
He sprinted toward the private elevator and rode it down, hoping to intercept her before she turned the foyer into a NASCAR tragedy.
But when the doors opened...
He stepped into Christmas hell.
Salsa music blasting like a nightclub for retirees. The smell of pastelitos and coffee a physical assault on the senses.
Tia Rosa and her three best friends were chatting and laughing under blinking lights like it was another Tuesday.
The scene was even more chaotic than he'd imagined. He saw Tia Rosa cornering a pale-looking Leo by the staircase, forcefully piling a plate with tamales.
"You are skin and bones, mijo! All that computer, no food! Eat! This will put blood back in your cheeks!" Leo looked trapped, holding the plate like it was a live explosive.
Near the kitchen island, Riven was being offered a platter of something bright red and steaming by one of the other aunts.
"Try the chorizos, guapo! They're special from my village! See if you're as strong as you look!" Riven, for once, looked genuinely nervous.
And Julian was now leaning against the wall, his phone blasting his aggressive rock music, which was creating a bizarre but somehow fitting duet with the salsa.
Tia Rosa shot him a look but shouted over the noise, "Julian, keep it! The house needs energy! But maybe a little... lower, por favor!"
Just then, Carmen, the woman in the red dress, walked up to Elijah. He stiffened, his hand instinctively drifting toward the gun hidden beneath his sweater.
She smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling. "For you, mijo," she said, pressing a clumsily wrapped box into his hands. "Rosa says you work too hard."
Suspiciously, Elijah opened it. Inside was a truly hideous, hand-knitted reindeer sweater, complete with a blinking red nose.
Riven, who had just escaped the chorizo platter, snorted. "You gonna wear that to the next board meeting, boss?"
Elijah ignored him. He was too busy counting the seconds until his empire collapsed.
And of course, the random pretty girl standing by the Christmas tree, holding a plate of cookies, blushing like she'd just seen a mafia-themed romance novel come to life.
Elijah didn't notice her. Elijah wouldn't have noticed if the Christmas tree burst into flames—he had bigger problems.
Because then a sharp, authoritative knock cut through the music.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Time was up.
Tia Rosa, wiping her hands on an apron that said 'Santa's Favorite,' bustled past him. "I'll get it! Probably just the neighbors complaining about the music again!"
"Tia, NO—" Elijah started, but it was too late.
She swung the grand front door open.
There, standing on the snowy doorstep, were three hulking men in exquisitely tailored, long Siberian coats made of the finest sable and fox fur.
Alexey Volkov and his two lieutenants. They looked every bit the ruthless oligarchs they were, their faces set in cold, expectant masks, ready to be greeted by an equally cold and formidable host.
They were not prepared for the scene that greeted them.
The blaring salsa music, the smell of spices, the women d in the hallway with serving spoons, the young girl blushing furiously in the corner, and the fearsome Don Elijah Fernandez himself, standing stiffly in the middle of it all, holding a wriggling, jam-covered toddler.
For a long moment, the Russians just stood there, utterly stunned. This was not the ruthless Mafioso they had come to negotiate with. This was... a family Christmas special.
And then, Juliet took charge.
She squirmed in Elijah's arms until he had no choice but to set her down.
The second her feet touched the floor, she revved an imaginary engine, made a loud "VROOOOM!" sound, and zoomed her little body straight towards the intimidating group on the doorstep.
She skidded to a halt in front of the largest Russian, a man with a magnificent, thick, white beard. She pointed a sticky finger directly at his face, her eyes wide with awe.
"SANTA!" she declared, her voice ringing with absolute certainty.
A dead silence fell. Even Tia Rosa froze
The bearded Russian, a man known for freezing his enemies alive without a second thought, looked down at the tiny, jam-smeared toddler.
His stern expression cracked.
Then, a slow, deep smile appeared within his beard. He slowly reached into the inner pocket of his luxurious coat and pulled out a beautifully painted, wooden Russian nesting doll.
"For you, little one," he said, his voice a thick, rumbling Russian accent.
He knelt, a giant in furs brought low, and placed the doll gently in her hands. "A real Santa gift."
Juliet's eyes went even wider. She hugged the doll to her chest, getting jam all over the pristine wood. "Tank oo, Santa!"
He looked up at Elijah, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Fernandez," he boomed. "You... have interesting security"
Elijah watched as Juliet, utterly delighted, tried to fit the whole doll into her mouth.
The moment of stunned silence stretched. Alexey Volkov, the leader, finally tore his amused gaze from the baby and looked at Elijah.
One of his eyebrows was arched so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline.
Swallowing his pride and any remaining shred of his intimidating reputation, Elijah gestured toward the hallway that led to his office.
"Господа," he said, his voice noticeably strained. "Если вы последуете за мной. Мы можем обсудить наши дела в другом месте." ("Gentlemen, if you'll follow me. We can discuss our business elsewhere.")
He turned, not waiting for a response, and began to lead the three fur-clad Russians away from the salsa music and the jam-covered toddler.
As they walked, the rhythmic beats of "Feliz Navidad" followed them down the hall, a stark and ridiculous soundtrack to what was supposed to be a high-stakes mafia meeting.