I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned stark white, fighting the dark, surging urge to stride directly across the hall and break Don Bianchi’s hawk-like nose with a single, brutal punch.

Doing so would ignite immediate, total chaos, utterly ruining the wedding. Worse, causing a public scene was likely a core element of Taylor's strategy. A open brawl with Bianchi would shatter our fragile alliance, terminate the wedding on the spot, and derail every strategic contingency we had established.

Was Bianchi actively coordinating this distraction? Had this been his master blueprint all along?

"Intercept them," I growled into my earpiece, backing away from the bustling crowd of oblivious guests....