Ace thought no one would see. That was his main reason for doing it. For stealing from his own company. He didn’t count on his own employees having enough initiative to do their own investigating. That they would be able to trace the theft to him.

But that’s over and done with. Ace was able to salvage his reputation, feeding his vice president to the wolves. As for the too-curious employees—no one would be hearing from them again. It wasn’t that hard to descend down the slide to eternal damnation. It only took one step.

From his penthouse apartment, Ace had a great view of the setting sun. Christmas eve is here. The only time in the year he was happy about his physique. It made making his two children believe in Santa Clause easier. His wife Estelle already had his Santa suit altered. He did gain a few more pounds this year. All the better for pretending to be the jolly old geezer.

He watched as his son and his daughter prepared the milk and cookies they’ll be giving to Santa Clause. They placed it in front of the electric fireplace that was plain decoration. Why would they need a fireplace in the Philippines anyway? If they wanted heat, they only had to turn off the air-conditioning.

But his children believed that the fireplace was Santa’s portal into their living room. Never mind that it was just a plasma screen showing footage of logs burning. His children might be a little intellectually-challenged. They never wondered why the logs never needed replacing.

Ace helped his wife tuck the children in to sleep. It was a charade. The kids would pretend to be asleep and would sneak out of their rooms later, nearer midnight. Which meant he and his wife would have to pretend to have a date, leave the house, and once outside he would don his Santa costume and sneak in from the balcony.

His wife would wait at the lobby of their building with his change of clothes.

Ace was a thief, a jackass, and a horrible boss—but he was a wonderful father. Some would say it was his only redeeming factor. Estelle definitely thought so. And yet that was enough for her. Her children were happy.

She waited at the lobby for the clock to strike midnight. Ten minutes later and her husband would walk out of the elevator, ask for his change of clothes, and they’d enjoy a drink at the bar near their building before heading back to the penthouse. Except it was already an hour past midnight, and Ace wasn’t down yet.

Worried, Estelle took the elevator. She hit the elevator and listened to the muzak version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. It took less than a minute to get to the penthouse. The door to their home was open. Estelle was worried.

Slowly, she crept up to the open door. She could hear her kids crying. She found herself running in, fearful of the unknown. And she found her son and her daughter standing before their father. Before Ace. Her son was holding his baseball bat, their gift to him last year. Ace was on the ground, eyes open and blank.

Estelle walked up to her children. To the body of her husband. She could hear her son whispering. I thought he was a burglar. My friend said Santa wasn’t real. I thought he was a bad man. He was crying softly. His sister wasn’t crying. She was probably too young to understand what had happened. Or she was that slow. But, then again, she was preoccupied by three gifts that Estelle didn’t recognize.

One for her. One for her son. One for her daughter. None for Ace.

From outside, she could still hear the elevator music. She must’ve hit the emergency button.