The music faded. The violinists stopped mid-song. Guests looked around in confusion as the reception quietly unraveled.

Margaret’s smile froze. “What—what’s going on?” she demanded.

From my seat at the “worst” table, I watched calmly as my team began packing up food and decor. Whispers spread through the crowd. Anna rushed to me, panic in her voice.

“Aunt Claire, why is everyone leaving?”