Chapter 3: The Artifact
Chapter 3: The Artifact
The crash was deafening. The heavy silver platter slammed onto the polished white marble floor with the violence of a car crash. Glass shattered, scattering caviar and crystal across the pristine surface.
The entire ballroom fell completely silent. The string quartet screeched to a halt. You could hear a pin drop.
Victoria stood tall, her chin raised, a cruel smirk dancing on her lips. She waited for her husband to summon his private security detail to drag the girl out. But Arthur Sterling was not looking at the waitress.
His eyes were locked on the debris.
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Amidst the shattered glass and spilled ice lay a small, heavy object that had fallen from the waitress’s apron pocket. It was a tarnished, charred titanium pocket watch. The glass face was cracked, the hands permanently frozen at 11:14.
Arthur’s breath hitched. Every trace of color drained from his famously tanned face. The room watched in absolute disbelief as the ruthless, untouchable billionaire collapsed. His knees hit the marble with a sickening thud. His hands shook violently as he reached toward the broken watch, terrified to touch it, as if it were a live grenade from a past he had buried twenty years ago.
