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.

her mind a whirlpool of

Which porcelain?

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

was

value of the porcelain, Millie knew full well the fury simmering in

is? Why would these shards lie treacherously at my feet? And who beckoned

her head, threatening to

back, and a

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 stories it carries. How

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