A loud crash echoed through the ballroom, cutting through the refined atmosphere like a clap of thunder. All eyes turned to the source of the commotion. A waiter, his face crimson with embarrassment, stood over a shattered tray of crystal glasses. The clinking of glass shards settling against the polished floor seemed to punctuate the moment with finality. I felt a pang of sympathy for him; mistakes happen, even on perfect days.
However, my attention quickly snapped back to Robert as he leaned closer, his face pale. “We need to leave. Now.”
Confused, I looked at him, searching his eyes for answers. “Why? What’s wrong?”
