Then a murmur began near the grand double doors of the ballroom.

The heavy doors swung open, and four large men in tailored dark suits stepped inside.

They were plainly not hotel staff and not ordinary guests.

Two positioned themselves by the entrance, one scanned the perimeter, and the fourth spoke quietly into a wrist earpiece.

The crowd went quiet, turning to watch.

At the head table, Spencer stopped smiling, and his father, Bernard Ashby, rose sharply from his seat.

And then Rafael walked in.