She had walked toward Matteo because she needed every witness in the room to see that she had reached the altar by her own feet.
Now she let the bouquet hang at her side.
“There will be no private discussion.”
The crowd stirred. Matteo’s best man, his cousin Filippo, took a step toward them and stopped when Livia raised two fingers. It was a minute gesture, nearly invisible, but everyone in the Bellandi family understood it.
Wait.
Livia rose.
Her champagne silk gown caught the candlelight. Her silver hair was arranged in a smooth twist, and her pearl earrings matched the necklace her late husband had given her after their twentieth anniversary. She did not look toward the phones. Looking at them would acknowledge that she could not control them.
“Elena is distressed,” she said to the room. “The ceremony will pause while the family attends to her.”
A few guests lowered their phones. Others held them higher.
Elena looked directly at her.
“I am not distressed.”
Her voice shook on the last word. She hated that it did. Livia’s expression changed by less than a breath.
“Elena,” Sofia said from the front row.