(Third POV)
Vince Kho did not believe in subtlety.
He believed in flair.
In ceremony.
In emotional spectacle with PowerPoint-level theatrics.
Which was precisely why everyone knew the moment he clapped his hands and called,
"INNER NINE, ASSEMBLE — POST-CAROLLING BRIEFING,"
that their previously peaceful afternoon was about to be emotionally hijacked.
They were still gathered in the sprawling glass conservatory of the Kho Estate — where the earlier carolling competition had concluded with a chaotic mixture of applause, dramatic bowing, Andy's unfairly perfect harmonies, and Steven standing stiffly like a morally obligated snow sculpture.
A standing prop.
A very handsome standing prop.
Michelle was still faintly buzzed from the cheerful rush of the performance — not from exhaustion, but from that strange joy brought by childish fun and the warmth of belonging. Snowflakes drifted lazily past the floor-to-ceiling windows, sunlight catching on frost like silver dust.
