Chapter 3 - The Warmth WithinThe interior of the Steel mansion was breathtaking. Soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and a massive stone fireplace crackling with roaring logs filled the grand foyer with radiant heat and the scent of burning pine.
Mrs. Gable, the estate’s kind-hearted head housekeeper, rushed out from the back hallway carrying three thick wool blankets and a silver tray of steaming hot cocoa topped with mountains of whipped cream.
“Good heavens, Robert! Who are these children?” Mrs. Gable gasped, immediately dropping to her knees to wrap Emma and Evan in the heavy blankets.
“They walked from Hope Orphanage,” Robert said quietly, placing the shoebox gently on the mahogany entryway table. He watched as the triplets eagerly accepted the cocoa, their faces lighting up as the warmth seeped back into their frozen bones.
“Hope Orphanage?” Mrs. Gable muttered, her expression clouding with sudden sorrow. “That place is falling apart. The city council cut their funding six months ago. The heat barely works, and the roof leaks like a sieve.”
Robert didn't answer. He walked slowly back to the shoebox. His fingers, usually steady when signing billion-dollar corporate acquisitions, trembled slightly as he untied the faded red ribbon.
He lifted the lid.
Inside lay Emma’s crayon drawing of a crooked Christmas tree, Evan’s solemn note written in uneven print (No One Should Spend Christmas Alone), and three smooth river stones.
But nestled right in the center was the final item.
Robert picked it up. It was a small, hand-carved wooden angel, its wings slightly chipped, its paint worn away by years of tiny hands holding it close.
As his thumb brushed the wooden surface, the color drained entirely from Robert’s face. He staggered backward, his breath catching in his throat as a memory from twenty-five years ago exploded behind his eyes.
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“Take this, Robert,” a young woman with warm brown eyes and a gentle smile had said, pressing that exact wooden angel into his palm. “Never let the cold win. Keep love in your heart, no matter how dark the world gets.”
“Clara...?” Robert whispered, the name escaping his lips like a ghost from the past.
