**TITLE: Broken by Destiny by George Orwell 402**
**Chapter 402: A Pretty Boy**
Observing the unfolding drama from a distance was surprisingly gratifying.
Amelia had never been one for socializing; mingling with the crowd felt more like a chore than an enjoyable pastime. She had no intention of seeking out Truman amidst the throng of guests. Instead, she meandered through the garden, her footsteps leisurely as she savored the ice cream bar she had snatched earlier while passing the buffet.
As she strolled, each bite of the chilled treat allowed her thoughts to wander freely. The evening was filled with an array of notable figures, each one a potential connection or a puzzle piece in the intricate web of relationships surrounding her. Yet, the sheer number of unexpected encounters left her feeling overwhelmed.
Now, with the garden enveloped in a serene quiet, devoid of the usual chatter and laughter, it felt like the perfect opportunity to reflect. Earlier in the evening, one person had piqued her suspicion more than others—Regina. Initially, Amelia had assumed Regina’s presence at the party was a public display of her relationship with Gianna, a way to solidify their bond in front of others. However, as the night wore on, Amelia’s certainty began to wane; the situation was far more complex than she had first believed.
She could vividly recall the moment Rolf and his entourage made their entrance. Regina’s reaction was unmistakable; her eyes had sparkled with an intensity that suggested something deeper was at play. That gleam was not merely a response to the arrival of a well-respected professional.
What was it then? Amelia pondered as she tried to remember who had accompanied Rolf. She recalled Raymond and Marcelo being present, but they had barely made an impact on the evening. Regina wouldn’t react so fervently to their presence, especially not to Raymond, who was someone she encountered frequently. There was simply no reason for such an emotional outburst over someone so familiar at a social gathering.
If it wasn’t them, who could it be? The question nagged at her, but she was interrupted from her thoughts as she suddenly noticed a figure ahead of her.
The garden, now nearly deserted, felt almost eerie. The nearby resting rooms were dark and unoccupied, casting shadows that seemed to dance in the dim light. Yet, at the far end of a long corridor, one room remained illuminated, its light spilling into the hallway. A faint sound caught her attention—was that crying?
Curiosity, though often perilous, tugged at her instincts. Driven by an innate desire to understand, Amelia approached the source of the sound, her heart racing with a mix of concern and intrigue.
As she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. There, she found a young boy standing with his back turned to her. His small shoulders trembled as he wept quietly, the sound almost muffled by the stillness of the room.


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