The slam of the door echoed down the stone hallway like a thunderclap, jolting the servants who were cleaning the room. Pale-faced and trembling, they froze where they stood. Haston barged into his private quarters with long, angry strides, eyes blazing red, his chest heaving like he'd swallowed fire. In one hand, he clutched a crumpled piece of paper, names scrawled across it in neat handwriting. Names of his children. He gripped it like it was a dagger.
He threw the paper onto the desk. It bounced off and fluttered to the floor. Nobody dared pick it up. A porcelain vase near the window became the first casualty. He snatched it and hurled it against the wall without a second thought. Shards rained down like glass confetti. A nearby servant backed away, ghost-white.
Joseph, who had followed Haston into the room, wasted no time. "Everyone out, now!" he ordered the staff. They scurried out, leaving him alone with the raging prince.
