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.

echoed, her mind a whirlpool

Which porcelain?

seconds of suspended time—for Millie to regain herself,

it. You’ve misunderstood.” Her voice was a plea, a truth yet to

Millie knew full well the fury simmering

the perpetrator, then who is? Why would these shards lie treacherously at my feet? And who

her head, threatening to burst

memory of Mae’s hurried summons played back, and a realization washed over Millie:

age within its delicate form. It bears the fingerprints of my great grandfather’s legacy.

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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