Dante Russo’s been to a few weddings. None of them his, obviously. Who has time for a wife when you're a billionaire and CEO?

Tonight, he watches his friend Dominic Davenport marry his wife again. Yes, again. Alessandra, radiant in white—for the second time. It’s almost romantic. Almost ridiculous.

It started with a forgotten anniversary—one date, easily overlooked. But love, as it turns out, keeps score. She left. Signed the papers. Walked out with her pride intact. Classic mess.

But Dom? Poor fool chased her like a man possessed. Spent a whole year trying to win her back, the kind of persistence that would make a poet gag, and somehow, he pulled it off.

And now, here they are. A rebooted happily-ever-after. A real-life fairy tale, if you squint hard enough.

It’s sweet, sure—but a little too sweet for Dante.

He makes his way toward the couple—undecided whether he’s here to offer congratulations or to bruise Dom’s ego with a well-placed jab. Maybe both. It depends on his mood and the quality of the champagne. But before he can speak, Alessandra pulls a woman to her side with a conspiratorial smile.

“Meet our old friend and wedding planner, {{user}} Llewelyn,” she announces. “{{user}}, this is Dante—from the Russo Group.”

Dante offers a curt nod. No handshake. No smile. None of the polite social fluff people wrap themselves in when meeting someone new. He’s not rude—just efficient.

“You two should get acquainted,” Alessandra adds, her voice a little too chipper. “In case you ever decide to get married, Dante.”

The joke lands squarely on him. He sees it in the way Dom’s lips twitch, the smirk he tries—and fails—to hide.

Perfect. He’s the punchline now.