As the processional music swelled to a crescendo, the guests rose to their feet in hushed reverence. The couple glided gracefully down the aisle toward the floral arch on the raised dais.

  The officiant’s voice filled the ballroom, his tone solemn and deliberate.

  “We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Caleb Mordant and Lila Whitmore, as they join their lives together in love and commitment.”

  The officiant paused, allowing the gravity of the moment to settle before shifting his tone.

  “Before we proceed to the exchange of vows, we have a special deviation from tradition. It is my distinct honor to invite a distinguished guest to the lectern to offer a ceremonial address to the newlyweds.”

  A ripple of surprised whispers broke the silence, quickly followed by a wave of polite applause.

  A woman in her early thirties emerged from the side stage, her attire a statement of understated, powerful elegance. She moved to the lectern, took the microphone, and addressed the audience with a cool, self-assured gaze.

  “Good evening, everyone. My name is Thea Carrington, and it is my distinct pleasure to be here to celebrate this union…”

  A collective gasp, followed by a wave of frantic murmurs, rippled through the venue the moment she spoke her name.

  “The Thea Carrington? The Carrington family’s heiress actually came? The Mordants have some serious pull!”

  “No kidding. They call her the heir apparent to the entire Carrington empire. And she’s here in person!”

  “So who do you think invited her? The Mordant family or the Whitmores?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. It had to be the Mordants. If the Whitmores had that kind of connection, why would they be marrying their daughter off to… well, you know.”

  “True. Looks like the Mordant family is about to hit the big time.”

  …

  Seated in the front row, Lucien Mordant’s eyes had crinkled into slits, his smile barely contained. The crowd’s reaction mirrored his own from the night before.

  He had been drowning in the last-minute chaos of wedding preparations when the call came, a private line from the head of the Carrington family himself. First came the congratulations on his son's marriage, and then the casual mention that Thea Carrington would be attending the reception.

  The news had left Lucien so euphoric he hadn’t slept a wink.

  Her presence wasn’t just a social courtesy; it was a signal. It told the entire world that the Carrington family stood behind the Mordants. It wasn’t a signed business agreement, but it carried more weight than any contract ever could. From now on, anyone who dared to stand in his way would have to consider the Carringtons’ reaction.

  This was a double victory. Compared to this, the assets he’d schemed so hard to acquire from the Whitmore family seemed trivial.

  Watching Thea command the room with her effortless charisma, Lucien was already plotting his next move.

  Since she’s here, this has to be my opening to secure a larger chip order from Helios Biosciences. I’ll find a moment to speak with her after the ceremony. Maybe she’s here specifically to open that door.

  Lost in his grand commercial ambitions, Lucien drifted through his son’s wedding in a daze, mechanically following the officiant’s cues without processing a single word.

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  “Lucien! Lucien!”

  It was time for the vows, and Edmund had to hiss his name to snap him out of his reverie.

  Lucien blinked, his triumphant expression receding as he focused on his son and future daughter-in-law standing at the altar, ready for the solemn exchange.

  The officiant’s voice rang out. “Do you, Caleb Mordant, take Lila Whitmore to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?”

  “I do,” a synthetic, electronic tone grated from Caleb Mordant’s throat.

  “And do you, Lila Whitmore, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

  Lila stood like a porcelain doll, her movements stiff as she stared blankly at Caleb’s chest. A single question echoed endlessly in her mind.

  Is this it? Is this really it?

  Her gaze flickered toward the audience below.

  Where is he? He said he’d found a way.

  A single tear traced a silent path down her cheek. She remained silent.

  Sensing the awkward pause, the officiant decided to bridge the gap and move swiftly to the conclusion to save face. “Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce…”

  BOOM!

  The grand doors at the back of the ballroom were thrown open with violent force.

  “WAIT!” a voice shouted. “Caleb Mordant! Miss Whitmore! There is something you must know!”

  The ballroom erupted. Thousands of guests turned in their seats, creating a sea of confusion and excitement.

  Lucien and Edmund shot up from the front row, their faces masks of pure fury, searching for the person who dared to commit such an audacious act.

  A spotlight swiveled and pinned a young man in the doorway. As the crowd got a clear look at him, a wave of collective bewilderment followed.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “No idea. Is he from one of the Four Families?”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Even if he was, you don’t interrupt a wedding with Thea Carrington presiding. That’s insane.”

  “I bet he’s just some nobody, an old flame of the bride’s here to stir up trouble.”

  “Haha, well, he’s royally screwed. The Mordant family could crush him without lifting a finger.”

  “This is getting good!”

  “Totally worth coming today. First, we see Thea Carrington in person, and now this drama. It’s been years since I’ve seen something this entertaining.”

  …

  Unlike the gossiping spectators, Lucien Mordant’s face contorted with rage the second he confirmed the intruder wasn’t from any prominent family. A vein pulsed in his temple.

  “Security! Detain him!”

  He waved a hand, and four guards materialized from the periphery, converging on the young man without a word. Lucien's order was “detain,” not “remove.” He had no intention of letting the interloper go unpunished.

  On the dais, the bride and groom turned to see the commotion.

  At the sight of the newcomer, Lila gasped, his name a choked whisper.

  “Kael!”

  The single word was laced with trembling hope.

  “Kael?” The synthetic, electronic tone grated from Caleb Mordant’s throat again, the strange vocal distortion the only thing that marked him as different from a normal man.

  Kael watched the guards rush him, his expression calm. With a few deft sidesteps and evasive maneuvers, he left them stumbling in his wake. He broke into a sprint, dodging two more attempts to grab him, and reached the edge of the dais in seconds.

  The security team adapted. Seeing Kael’s fluid grace, they quickly formed a protective ring around the bride and groom. The tactic worked, forcing Kael to halt his advance.

  Caleb Mordant seethed, the electronic rasp from his throat rising in pitch. “What am I paying you for, you useless parasites? You can’t even handle one piece of trash! Cough, cough…”

  Though the words were synthesized, the rapid, ragged breathing that followed was real, his frail body struggling to keep up with his rage. Lucien rushed to the dais to steady his son. He shot a venomous glare first at Lila, then at Kael, and let out a guttural snarl.

  “More men! Now!”

  A dozen more guards stormed the platform, surrounding Kael completely.

  “Drag him out of here!” Lucien was incandescent with fury. The delay to his son’s wedding was an annoyance; the humiliation in front of Thea Carrington was a catastrophe.

  No matter how skilled Kael was, he couldn’t evade more than a dozen men in such a confined space. He was quickly seized, his arms pinned, and hoisted off his feet.

  “Stop!” Lila cried, moving to block their path, unable to watch them drag Kael away.

  The guards hesitated, glancing from Lila to Lucien. One of them stepped forward and gently but firmly blocked her way.

  Just as Kael was about to be hauled out of sight, another voice called out from the entrance.

  “I suggest you unhand him.”

  Who now?

  Lucien felt like he was going to have a stroke. He whipped his head toward the doors and saw two figures walking in. One was a young man, about Kael’s age. The other, an older woman in her fifties.

  Lucien roared at the guards, “Get them out! Get them all out of here!”

  It was then that Thea Carrington rose from her seat in the front row. “Mr. Mordant,” she said, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable authority. “Let’s not be hasty.”

  Lucien froze. Why was she intervening? A cold dread began to seep into his bones.

  He looked again at the young man who had just entered and felt a jolt of recognition.

  He knew that face. It was Thea’s younger brother, Ben Carrington.