Chapter 2 - The Interception
The song ended with a lingering cello note that seemed to hang in the damp Chicago air drifting off the river. Before the applause could fade, Giovanni didn't release my hand. Instead, he tucked it securely into the crook of his arm, turning his body to shield me from the immediate rush of guests eager to catch his eye.
Too late.
"Giovanni!"
A booming, self-important voice cut through the polite chatter. Arthur Fierro, Giovanni’s uncle and the current senior board member of Fierro Enterprises, marched across the floor like a general inspecting a conquered province. Trailing half a step behind him was a young woman in a blinding emerald silk dress, her blonde hair shellacked into a perfect pageant wave, clinging to the arm of a balding man old enough to be her father—Richard Vance, the very executive Tyler had spent three months trying to impress.
Arthur stopped just three feet away, his florid face flushed with irritation. His eyes flicked past Giovanni with visible disdain, landing squarely on my department-store dress, my pinned-up hair, and the sensible flats I had swapped into beneath the table after my heels gave out during the cocktail hour.
"There you are," Arthur barked, ignoring social convention entirely. "We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Victoria has been dying to dance with you all evening. Richard here was just telling me about the downtown zoning approvals—"
"Uncle Arthur," Giovanni interrupted, his voice dropping an octave into a register so chillingly polite that Arthur actually stuttered to a halt. "Can't you see I'm engaged?"
The silence that fell over the surrounding tables was absolute.
Victoria, the emerald-clad woman, let out a sharp, indignant gasp. Richard Vance blinked behind his wire-rimmed glasses, his mouth opening like a fish out of water.
"Engaged?" Arthur spluttered, his face turning the color of a bruised plum. "What nonsense are you spouting? You’ve known Victoria for three weeks—"
"Not to her," Giovanni corrected lazily, tightening his grip on my arm just enough to keep me steady as I felt my knees threaten to buckle. He looked down at me, his gaze softening with a theatrical warmth that was so convincing I almost believed it myself. "To my wife. We married quietly this morning. Didn't I mention it, darling?"
He looked at me for confirmation. My breath caught. I knew the danger of playing along, but looking past Arthur’s shoulder, I saw Tyler standing ten feet away, staring at us with an expression of pure, unadulterated horror. Tyler recognized Giovanni. He recognized the man whose signature was required on every major commercial lease in the tri-state area. And now, that man was claiming to be married to the woman Tyler had abandoned three days after she announced a pregnancy.
"You... you didn't mention it," I said, playing my part with a sudden surge of adrenaline that cleared the fog of exhaustion from my brain. I raised my left hand, displaying the simple, unadorned skin of my ring finger. "It was... spontaneous. We wanted something private before the chaos of the evening."
Arthur looked like he was about to suffer a coronary infarction. "This is absurd! A publicity stunt! Who is this—what is your family name, young lady?"
"Jessica Hale," Giovanni answered before I could speak, his tone hardening into steel. "Or rather, Jessica Fierro. And she is a pediatric nurse who spends her days saving children while the people in this room spend their evenings arguing over square footage and tax loopholes. If you ever speak to my wife in that tone again, Uncle Arthur, I will strip you of your voting shares before the market opens on Monday."
The threat was delivered with such terrifying, casual calm that Arthur physically stepped back, his lips trembling as he groped for words that wouldn't come.
Behind them, Tyler took a violent step forward, his face mottled with rage. "Giovanni—Mr. Fierro, sir—there's been some kind of mistake. This woman, she’s... she’s my ex-wife. She doesn't belong in this circle. She’s lying to you."
Giovanni didn't even turn his head to look at Tyler. He simply raised one hand, signaling a security guard standing by the service doors.
"Remove the caterer's assistant," Giovanni said smoothly, his eyes fixed on Arthur. "He seems confused about guest boundaries."
"I am not a caterer's assistant!" Tyler shouted, his voice cracking as two burly security guards in dark suits materialized on either side of him, their heavy hands clamping onto his shoulders with unbreakable professional courtesy. "I’m Tyler Brooks! I’m with Vanguard Realty! Let go of me!"
"Get out of my sight," Giovanni murmured.
May you like
As Tyler was bodily hauled backward through the swinging kitchen doors—his face bright red with humiliation, kicking and screaming in front of two hundred of Chicago’s most elite citizens—Vanessa let out a choked shriek and ran after him, her expensive silk gown tripping over her ankles.
The ballroom was so quiet you could hear the ice melting in the champagne buckets across the room.
