Chapter Content
As the anticipation climbed higher and higher, the dramatic swell of the music tightened around the theatre like a vice. Stage lights cut sharply through the darkness—gold, white, then deep shadow again—each beat of light syncing with the audience's racing pulse. You could almost hear hearts thudding beneath ribs, collective breath held hostage by what was about to happen.
Foca stepped forward.
"Before anything," he began, his voice steady but deliberate, "I would like to confess something."
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