Sebastian paced restlessly in his study, the warm glow of the fireplace doing little to ease the turmoil in his mind. His thoughts kept circling back to Isabella, the way her tear-filled eyes had stared back at him, the raw pain in her voice as she protested her innocence.

It didn't make sense. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been too hasty, too cruel. The pendant was undoubtedly important to him, a symbol of his past, but something about her words and the desperation in her face haunted him.

By midnight, sleep was a futile endeavor. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid untouched as he stared blankly at the city lights outside his window. His mind replayed every moment from the night, searching for a clue, something to explain the strange coincidence of the pendant's appearance.

At dawn, unable to bear the gnawing doubt any longer, Sebastian stormed into his office and demanded the CCTV footage from the previous day. He replayed the clips from the living room and kitchen, his sharp eyes scanning every movement.

The truth revealed itself sooner than he expected.

In the footage, he saw the women he had hired to help bake cookies. One of them spotted the pendant lying on the counter in his room, a careless mistake on his part. She pocketed it, looking around nervously, but her movements were casual enough to avoid immediate suspicion.

Moments later, another clip showed her stumbling into Isabella as she left the house. The pendant slipped from her hand, falling unnoticed at Isabella's feet.

Sebastian paused the footage, leaning back in his chair as the weight of his mistake hit him. Isabella hadn't stolen the pendant; it had fallen to her by sheer accident. In fact, she is the one who gets it back to him unknowingly.

"Dammit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Guilt clawed at him, sharp and relentless.

He stood abruptly and called Nancy. "I need Isabella's address," he asked directly.

Nancy hesitated, her voice cautious. "Seb, is everything alright?"

"No, Nancy, it's not," he replied, his tone curt but tinged with regret. "Just give me her address."

"No, after what happened yesterday, I want my answer first." Nancy demanded sternly.

"Ok, fine." He heaved a defeated sigh. "You were right, and I was wrong. Isabella didn't steal the locket. One of the ladies who came to help with cookies did it."

"Seb, what have you done?" Nancy exclaimed. "Go and apologize to her." She ordered him this time and gave him the address.

Within minutes, Sebastian had the address and was on his way. He drove through the city streets, rehearsing his apology, though the knot in his chest told him it wouldn't be enough.

When he arrived at the address, an old suburban house. Oddly silent even at this time of the year.

However, the sight that greeted him sent a chill down his spine. Before he could knock on the door, an old lady came out with a few kids and boxes in their hands while she was telling them, "Go and sell these things. I want my money..."

"Excuse me, Ms.," Sebastian interrupted her, and she turned to look at him with suspicious eyes.

"Yes! Do I know you?" Mrs. Johnson asked while adjusting her glasses.

"No. I am looking for Isabella Rivers...."

"She doesn't live here anymore." Mrs. Johnson cut him off and then turned towards the kids and sneered at them, "What are you looking at? Go and sell her stuff. I want my money."

Sebastian's eyes widened in shock, and he stopped the kids. "Wait! Wait! Is it Isabella's stuff?" He asked Mrs. Johnson.

"Yes!" She spat while resting her hands on her hips. "What do you want?"

Sebastian took a deep breath to calm himself and asked, "Where is she, and why are you selling her stuff?" There is urgency in his voice.

"I don't know where she is. She was fired from her work, so I threw her out last night because I need my money, and I don't run a charity here. Whatever money she had, her stepsister snatched away from her, and that wasn't the first time her sister manhandled her. I want my money, so I am selling this trash." Mrs. Johnson sneered.

Sebastian closed his eyes while gritting his teeth. He took out some money from his pocket, more than what was required for the rent, and placed it in Isabella's landlady Mrs. Johnson's hand, saying, "I'm sure this will be more than enough."

"Who do you think you are to give me money?" Mrs. Johnson asked.

"Why does it matter to you? Just take the money and get her belongings loaded into my car," Sebastian ordered, and all of Isabella's belongings were moved to his car.

Today, Isabella found herself in this situation because of him, and now Sebastian felt it was his responsibility to find her. The thought of her wandering the streets alone all night because of him was eating him up with guilt.

His heart sank. The pieces fell into place: the desperation in her voice, the bruises on her face, and the exhaustion in her movements.

"Do you know where she might have gone?" he asked the landlady.

Mrs. Johnson shook her head. "No idea. She left with nothing. She must be somewhere in the city."

Sebastian felt a surge of panic. She was out there, cold and alone, with nowhere to go. And it was Christmas Eve.

He spent the rest of the day searching for her, asking passersby, checking shelters, and even visiting places near the town square. His mind kept returning to the look in her eyes when she had left his house. He couldn't let her slip away, not now, not when he was the one who had wronged her so deeply.

As night fell, he pulled his car into the crowded market square, scanning the crowds with a desperate intensity. The festive lights and cheerful music felt like a cruel mockery of the situation.

And then, through the sea of people, he spotted her.

She was sitting alone on the cold pavement near the Christmas tree, hugging her knees and staring blankly at the lights. Her face was pale, her figure frail, and her eyes, once so full of quiet determination, were now dull with defeat.

Sebastian's breath caught as guilt and relief clashed within him. Without a second thought, he stepped out of the car and walked toward her, his resolve firm.

This time, he wouldn't let her suffer alone. This time, he would make it right.

As he was approaching her, passing the crowd, he saw a little girl passing by Isabella holding a ginger cookie. Looking at Isabella, that girl broke her cookie in half and handed a piece to Isabella. "Merry Christmas," she said softly before running back to her parents.

Sebastian's heart clenched painfully looking at that scene of how Isabella stared at the cookie in her trembling hands, her vision blurred by tears. The simple act of kindness warmed her heart more than she could express. She took a small bite, savoring the sweetness that felt like a balm to her broken spirit.

He is cursing himself for why he did that. He should have listened to her, but no, he has to pass his judgment, and now this poor girl is paying because of him.

She is hungry and trembling in the cold. Sebastian reached her hurriedly and took off his overcoat and wrapped it around her.

Startled, she looked up to see Sebastian standing there, his gray-blue eyes scanning her face with a mixture of guilt and determination. He would never forgive himself for that.

It's feeling like a déjà vu to him. Because he was at the same place 20 years ago where Isabella is right now. Bella helped him that day and made his Christmas special. She didn't let his Christmas spirit die, and he will do the same.

Isabella stiffened looking at him, unsure of what to say, but more tears filled in her already teary eyes.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice barely audible over the festive noise around them.

She sniffled as he crouched down to her level, his expression softening. The bruises on her face hurt him more than he thought of. Her eyes red due to constant crying, her nose red, her lips wobbling, and she is trembling because of the cold.

She hesitated, her pride warring with her desperation. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.

Sebastian gulped nervously, unsure of how to start it or what to say after what he did.

"Because I know what it feels like to sit here like this." He replied softly. "It might sound silly to you, but 20 years ago I was sitting in the same place where you are sitting right now. Homeless and hopeless. Then an angel came and helped me. She gave me hope. If I still walked away from here, then it would be a shame on her kindness, and I don't want to let her down." He said, and more tears streamed down her cheeks.

She wanted to tell him that she knows, but she is scared and feeling embarrassed to admit it.

"Come with me," he said gently, bringing her out of her thoughts, extending his hand.

But she is hesitating and looking at him dumbfounded, fighting with her inner turmoil.

"Why would I?" She whispered while sniffling and averting her gaze. "I am a thief after all." She whispered while closing her eyes, and more tears rolled down her cheeks.

Her last words were barely audible. He wouldn't even be able to hear if he wasn't sitting in front of her.

His heart was stabbed with a thousand sharp knives. He knows that he was wrong, and he is not ashamed of admitting it.

"No, you aren't. I know I was wrong, and I am so sorry. I should've trusted you. I shouldn't have hurt you the way I did. I should have listened to you, but I don't know why I reacted that way. Actually, that pendant is not just a piece of jewelry for me. It means too much to me that I can't even explain it in words. I know at this moment no explanation can reduce your pain and sufferings, but please let me," he admitted, his gaze unwavering, and he told her everything he saw in the CCTV footage and kept apologizing for his mistake. "Please, come with me because I owe you far more than sorry. I'm so sorry. I know sorry won't redeem the pain and suffering that I caused you in these two days, but please let me make it right. Please."

Her heart twisted at his pleading words. She turned her head, looked into his guilt-filled ocean eyes with her moist eyes, and slowly, she placed her trembling, cold hand in his warm ones. As he helped her to her feet, the town square's lights seemed to shine a little brighter, and for the first time in years, Isabella felt a flicker of hope.

"Let's get you out of this cold," Sebastian said softly, leading her toward his car parked nearby.

Despite her hesitation, the warmth in his touch and the sincerity in his eyes melted the walls she had built around her heart. Slowly, she allowed him to guide her to the car.

As they walked away, Isabella glanced back at the Christmas tree, whispering a silent prayer of thanks. Perhaps, amidst her misery, she had found a chance for something new, a miracle of her own on Christmas Eve.

'Christmas miracles are not a myth.' She thought while looking at Sebastian, who was holding the door of his car for her.

As they drove through the quiet streets, Isabella couldn't help but glance at Sebastian, memories of their first encounter flashing in her mind. That scared, hungry little boy is not hopeless anymore.

She never even thought that he would cherish that locket his entire life like this. She thought that boy might have sold it and had a few meals or some warm clothes, but no, he is still keeping it like a precious treasure of his.

More tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them away and looked out of the window. The whole city is lighting up in full Christmas spirit, and after years she can feel that spirit as well. The hope that had died years ago with her parents is rising again.

Sebastian drove silently, glancing occasionally at Isabella as she sat quietly, her frail frame bundled in his overcoat. The dim glow of the city lights reflected on her face, highlighting the traces of exhaustion and sadness etched into her features. Guilt twisted in his chest with every glance.

Finally, they pulled up to his home, a sprawling estate adorned with twinkling Christmas lights. The sight would have been breathtaking to anyone else, but Isabella simply stared out the window, her expression unreadable, and she asked, "Why did you bring me here? I shouldn't be here..."

Sebastian interrupted her softly, "Just stay here for tonight. Tomorrow morning I will ask Nancy to find a safe place for you where at least the landlady won't throw you out in the cold and sell your belongings."

More tears pooled in her eyes, and she whispered, "How do you know?"

"I went there in your search to apologize, then I got to know about everything, but don't worry. I didn't let her sell your stuff. It's in my car trunk. I know how important these memories are because I don't have any with me." He whispered the last words sadly.

"Thank you, Mr. Cruz." She whispered while sniffling. "I don't know how I will repay your kindness."

"You don't have to. I caused you these problems, so it was my right to make it up to you." Sebastian replied softly and stepped out first, hurried to open her door.

She hesitated before stepping out, gripping the edges of the coat tightly around her.

"Come inside," he urged softly. "You're freezing."

She followed him cautiously, her movements stiff and hesitant. The warmth of the house enveloped her as soon as they entered, a stark contrast to the biting cold she had endured. The aroma of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air, reminding her of the holidays she used to love before life took its cruel turns.

Sebastian led her to the living room, where the fire crackled invitingly in the hearth. "Sit," he said, gesturing to the plush couch. "I'll get you something warm to drink."

Isabella perched on the edge of the couch, her fingers fidgeting nervously. The room is so warm that she has seen it many times and even roamed here many times, but today it is looking different, more warm and welcoming with a grand Christmas tree glowing softly in the corner. Yet she felt out of place, like an uninvited guest in someone else's dream.

Sebastian returned moments later with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the marshmallows bobbing on the surface. "Here," he said, offering it to her.

She accepted it reluctantly, murmuring a quiet "Thank you."

He sat down across from her, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied her intently. For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was heavy but not entirely uncomfortable.

"I owe you more than just an apology, Isabella," Sebastian began, his voice low but steady. "You've been through so much because of me, and I can't change what's happened. But I can promise you this: I'll do everything I can to make things right."

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why do you care now?"

Sebastian leaned back, his gaze distant as memories surfaced. "Because someone cared for me once, even when she didn't have to. You remind me of that person and myself. In a position that I was in years ago. And... because it's the right thing to do. I was cruel, and I hurt you. I won't let that be the end of your story."

Isabella's grip on the mug tightened, her emotions a whirlwind. Part of her wanted to believe him, to trust his sincerity, but the scars of betrayal ran deep.

"I don't need your pity," she said quietly.

"It's not a pity," Sebastian replied firmly. "It's a regret. And responsibility. You didn't deserve what happened to you, not from me, not from anyone else." Trying to make her believe his words.

She stared at him for a long moment, searching for any hint of insincerity. All she found was the raw truth in his eyes.

Finally, she took a sip of the hot chocolate, the warmth spreading through her body. It was the first time in days that she felt even a sliver of comfort.

Sebastian allowed her the silence, knowing she needed time to process everything.

After a while, he spoke again. "There's a guest room upstairs. It's yours for as long as you need it."

Her head snapped up in surprise. "I can't stay here...."

"You can," he interrupted gently. "And you will. At least for tonight. It's Christmas Eve, Isabella. No one deserves to spend it alone, and someone said the same to me." He whispered the last words with a small smile.

Listening to him, she remembered that night as well and the words she said to him. Even after years he remembered everything, and that brought more tears to her eyes, and she realized there is still kindness and good people in this cruel world.

His words hung in the air, wrapping around her like a protective embrace. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Sebastian smiled softly, relief washing over him. "Good. I'll show you to your room."

As she followed him up the grand staircase, Isabella felt an odd mix of emotions: fear, gratitude, and the faintest flicker of something she hadn't felt in years: trust.

And as the door to the guest room closed behind her, she leaned against it, clutching the mug to her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe that tomorrow could be better.

In the quiet sanctuary of her room, Isabella glanced out the window at the snow gently falling outside. Maybe Christmas miracles weren't just fairy tales after all.

She was all lost in her thoughts when there came a soft knock on her door, and she opened it. Sebastian was standing out with some clothes in his hands.

"Here for you. Your clothes are wet. I don't have any women's clothes, but I guess this sweatshirt and sweatpants will work tonight." He said softly with a small, faint smile.

"Thank you." Isabella whispered meekly and hesitantly took the clothes from his hand.

"Get changed and have a warm bath. You will feel better, then come downstairs. I am preparing dinner for us." He said and turned to leave but paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "And, Isabella..." he said softly, his voice carrying a note of vulnerability that caught her off guard. "You don't have to thank me. Not for this. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

Before she could respond, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her clutching the clothes to her chest. She stared at the closed door for a long moment, her mind racing. His kindness was unexpected, and after everything she had endured, it felt foreign, almost too good to be true.

Sebastian returned to the kitchen, determined to make the evening as warm and welcoming as possible. He was no chef, but he could manage a decent meal. He set to work chopping vegetables for a simple soup, his thoughts lingering on Isabella. Her haunted eyes and trembling form refused to leave his mind.

"She deserves so much better," he muttered to himself, stirring the pot. He had spent years building his empire, ensuring he would never feel powerless again, and yet tonight, standing in his own home, he felt helpless. Today he was able to help her because he knew her, but there are many people outside in this world who are homeless and hopeless, and he can't do anything to help each and every one of them.

Upstairs, Isabella stood in the guest room, staring at the borrowed clothes in her hands. They smelled faintly of cedar and something distinctly him. It was oddly comforting. She sighed, heading into the adjoining bathroom. The warm water washed away the grime and cold of the day, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt human again.

Slipping into the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The clothes swallowed her small frame, but the softness was soothing. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around herself, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

When she finally made her way downstairs, the scent of something savory greeted her. The sight of Sebastian in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pot, brought a flicker of a smile to her lips. He looked so different from the cold, distant man she had encountered a day ago. He is again looking like the Seb that she started to admire.

Sebastian turned, sensing her presence. His gaze softened when he saw her. "Feeling better?" he asked, gesturing to the table where two places were set.

Isabella nodded slowly, her arms still crossed over her chest. "Better," she murmured hesitantly, her voice quiet but steady.

"Good," he said, offering her a small smile. "Dinner is almost ready. Please, have a seat."

She hesitated, feeling out of place in the grand kitchen in which she had worked many times but now feeling oddly big and distant for two people. But something about the warmth in Sebastian's demeanor made her move toward the table. She sat down, her fingers tracing the edge of the plate absentmindedly.

Sebastian joined her moments later, placing two bowls of steaming vegetable soup on the table. "It's nothing fancy," he said, sitting across from her. "It's just soup, but it's warm, and it'll do the job."

She said, "That's more than enough." and he joined her, serving them both.

Isabella picked up her spoon, the savory aroma making her realize just how hungry she was. The first sip was heavenly, warming her from the inside out. For the first time in days, she felt a sense of comfort she couldn't quite explain.

"Thank you," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the bowl. "For... everything."

Sebastian watched her carefully, his own bowl untouched. "You don't need to thank me, Isabella. I should be thanking you for giving me a chance to make this right."

Isabella couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to reconcile the man before her with the one who had accused her so harshly.

Sebastian noticed her glances but chose not to address them directly. They ate in silence for a while, the crackle of the fireplace and the distant sound of carolers outside filling the quiet. Sebastian finally broke the silence, "I know I have no right to ask, but... can we start over?"

She looked at him, her spoon hovering mid-air. "Start over?"

He nodded. "Yes. Properly this time. No accusations, no misunderstandings. Just... a fresh start. As friends, if you'll allow it."

Her heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice. She wanted to trust him, but the pain of the past few days wasn't easy to let go of. Still, the warmth in his eyes was hard to ignore.

"Friends?" She asked unbelievably.

"Yeah. I mean, Nancy and Jimmy are also my friends more than employees, and you can resume your work as well if you want to; if not, then it's okay. I'll tell Nancy to find another better job for you...."

"Okay," she whispered barely audibly, interrupting him. "We can start over, and I will resume my work." Because she needs a job, and she can't let this job go in a misunderstanding when the man himself realized his mistake and even apologized.

Sebastian's lips curved into a genuine smile, one that made her chest tighten. "Thank you, Isabella. I won't let you down again."

As they finished their meal, a sense of tentative peace settled between them. For the first time in days, Isabella felt a sliver of hope, fragile but real. Maybe, just maybe, Christmas miracles weren't a myth after all. She kept repeating this to herself as if trying to convince herself that it's not a dream.