Millie’s response was almost instinctive.

“Didn’t you summon me?”

“When did I…?”

Marcus’ voice trailed off, urgency replacing confusion. He lunged, his hands seizing the porcelain fragments from Millie’s grasp.

“Millie, you’ve shattered the precious porcelain!”

His voice had a winter chill.

Millie’s heart stopped.

she echoed, her mind a whirlpool

Which porcelain?

seconds of suspended time—for Millie to regain herself, shaking her head

was a plea, a truth

of the porcelain, Millie knew full well the fury simmering in Marcus’ eyes. She raced to deny

would these shards lie treacherously at

in her head,

back, and a realization

more than just age within its delicate form. It bears the fingerprints of my great grandfather’s legacy. It’s a treasure not for its years, but for the

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