Chapter 252

• Epilogue
• Three years later, Paris was blanketed in snow, the kind that glistened beneath the streetlamps and wrapped the city in the kind of beauty that belonged only to Christmas. The Carrington estate, renovated and softened with warmth since the chaos of betrayal and trials, had become the heart of their gatherings. Twinkling lights covered every corner, pine garlands looped around the railings, and laughter spilled out into the cold night air.
• Inside, the atmosphere was alive with the scents of roasted turkey, cinnamon, mulled wine, and freshly baked bread. Children’s laughter rang out from the parlor, where a Christmas tree, taller than any of them, stood proudly adorned with ornaments that told their story—rings of glass painted with names, small angel figurines, and handmade stars from tiny, clumsy hands.