The Faded Chronicle
The porcelain teacup shattered against the floor of the grand ballroom, a sound so sharp it cut through the heavy, suffocating air of the gala. It was not a clumsy accident. I had thrown it with the precision of a surgeon, aiming not at the man, but at the ground between his polished shoes. The ceramic pieces scattered, white shards reflecting the chandelier light like broken teeth. Lord...
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