The Christmas Betrayal Sophie tried to steady herself as she carefully maneuvered the Christmas tree down the narrow attic stairs. Her arms ached, and every step reminded her of how different this Christmas was going to be. The house, once filled with the warm sound of Frank’s laugh and the comforting smell of cinnamon-scented coffee, felt far too quiet now. The silence was almost deafening. This was their first Christmas without Frank. It felt like a hollow celebration, but she was determined to make it special for Matthew. After all,

Mark loved Christmas Eve more than anything. Every year, he would stroll along his street to admire the Christmas decorations that covered every house—except one. There was an old house on the corner that always stood out for being empty of Christmas cheer. No twinkling lights, no festive wreaths, just a quiet, unadorned home. The woman who lived there was a mystery. Mark rarely saw her outside, and she never seemed to engage with the neighbors. He didn’t know much about her, except that she lived alone and preferred to