The Pale Verdict
The porcelain cup shattered on the linoleum floor with a sound that was less a crash and more a final exhalation. It was a small, white thing, chipped at the rim, but in the sterile silence of the break room, its death felt monumental. Dr. Elias Thorne did not flinch. He simply watched the shards scatter, catching the fluorescent light in jagged, cruel glints. He had been holding it for forty...
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