Here are the rewritten versions in English: --- **Version One (Emphasizing the protagonist's calm power, through details and contrast):** The wedding hall lay in ruins, the air thick with the metallic tang of broken glass and a pervasive despair. Sophia, my bride, was huddled on the floor, her pristine white wedding dress starkly stained with crimson blood, a dull ache radiating from her shoulder. Fear constricted her throat, but as my gaze met hers, a faint, almost hopeful light flickered in her watery eyes. "I'm sorry... I'm late..." Her voice was choked, tinged with unexpressed self-reproach. I simply cupped her face, my fingertips caressing her pale skin, and whispered reassuringly, "Silly girl, all that matters is you're here." My voice was soft, yet it cut through the surrounding chaos. My gaze snapped to Fread, the man she was once betrothed to. It was his enraged hand that had wounded Sophia. A cold killing intent solidified in my eyes, my voice a low murmur from the depths of hell: "You? You dared to hurt her?" Fread's sister, Betty, clung to him, a fresh wound on her arm still bleeding. She shrieked hysterically, "Stay back! Don't come any closer!" Fread, trembling, pulled a handgun from his jacket, its dark muzzle pointed directly at me, his voice distorted by fear: "Get him! Take him down!" My men moved, but I was faster, leaving only a blur. In a flash, Fread's wrist was brutally twisted in my grip. A sickening crunch of bone, a cry of pain from him, and the gun clattered into my palm. Without hesitation, I pressed the dark muzzle against Fread's forehead, cold murder churning in my eyes. "One more step, and I'll blow your damn brains out." Sophia's voice, fragile and urgent, but clear, reached my ears: "Cedric, please stop! Fread's father is a capo, a confidant of the Godfather! If you harm him, the Godfather will never let you go!" Her body trembled slightly, clearly envisioning the consequences. "With me here, don't be afraid. Everything will be fine." I gently stroked her hair, my eyes never leaving Fread's ashen face. Just then, the grand double doors of the wedding hall were pushed open by an unseen force. Fread's father, a man of high standing and unassailable presence, stepped into the hall. His appearance instantly plunged the noisy scene into a deathly silence. Fread's father's gaze was like a laser, slowly sweeping over my wrist, finally settling on my custom-made watch – etched with the family crest of the "Underboss." "That watch... it's the Underboss's exclusive token!" His voice was deep, laced with an undeniable shock. Sophia gasped, her pupils constricting. She looked at me, incredulous, her eyes filled with questions: "You... you are the Underboss?" Fread and Betty, like drowning people grasping at a final straw, screamed hysterically, trying to drown out the revelation: "He's lying! He's a fraud! Kill him!" In that split second, another figure appeared at the doorway. It was Sophia's true father, the Godfather himself, the head of the entire family. The entire wedding hall, at this moment, truly fell into a profound silence. The Godfather's gaze was as sharp as a hawk's, carrying an unquestionable authority. He looked coldly at Fread's family, his voice as icy as winter wind: "Apologize to Sophia." Then, he turned to Sophia, his words merciless and definitive: "You are no longer a Collins." Those words struck Sophia like thunder. She flinched violently, as if all strength had been drained from her, her heart shattering, plummeting into an abyss of despair. My hand, in her most fragile and helpless moment, clasped hers tightly. The warmth and firmness in my palm were my silent vow in a world turned upside down. We were truly linked now, disregarding everything, standing side by side in this family conflict woven from blood and an uncertain future. --- **Version Two (Incorporating more psychological description and emotional rendering):** A torn wedding dress, a blood-stained shoulder—Sophia lay in the center of the ravaged wedding hall, the air thick with the sickly sweet scent of blood and desperate roars. Those eyes, once so brilliant, were now brimming with terror, yet when I looked at her, they miraculously flickered with a fragile dependency. "I'm sorry... I couldn't get here in time..." Her voice was hoarse, tears instantly blurring her vision—a self-reproach for failing to protect me. I leaned down, gently drew her into my embrace, my fingertips tracing the contours of her cheek, as if comforting the most precious, fragile object: "Silly girl, all that matters is you're here. Nothing else matters." My gaze, however, had already turned into an ice-sharpened blade, piercing Fread. This man, who once boasted of being her fiancé, now had a face contorted with rage, the bloodstains on his hand starkly visible. He hurt her. This single thought exploded in my mind, burning away all my rationality. "You... you dared to hurt her?" My voice was terrifyingly deep, like a judgment from the nine layers of hell. Fread's sister, Betty, her sharp-featured face also bearing a blood mark, clung to Fread like a startled hyena, screaming, "Stay back! He's insane!" Fread, utterly terrified by my gaze, pulled the short gun from his waistband, its dark muzzle trembling as he pointed it at me, roaring with false bravado, "Kill him! All of you, get him!" But my movements had already transcended human limits. My men had barely begun to stir when I blurred into a shadow, appearing ghost-like beside Fread. He didn't even have time to pull the trigger; with a crisp snap of bone, a bone-deep agony shot through his wrist, the handgun flying from his grasp, caught steadily by me. The barrel was instantly pressed, cold, against his sweat-slicked forehead. "Dare to utter another word, and I'll let you taste the splatter of your own brains." My tone was calm, yet it contained an awe-inspiring, chilling murderous intent. Sophia's body trembled violently in my arms. She struggled to lift her head, her tear-filled eyes wide with urgency: "Cedric, stop! Please! Fread's father is the Godfather's confidant—you can't kill him! Otherwise, the Godfather will find you, and you'll never escape!" Her voice was tearful, a genuine expression of profound worry. "Don't be afraid," I whispered in her ear, my fingers gently stroking her hair, like soothing a frightened kitten. But my eyes remained locked on Fread, devoid of any warmth. In this moment of tense, deadly silence, the grand doors of the wedding hall were slowly pushed open by a heavy, invisible force. A figure, as massive as a mountain, carrying an suffocating aura of power, slowly strode in. It was Fread's father, a man whose mere presence could make one gasp for air. His gaze swept from the wreckage on the floor, to Fread's disheveled state, and finally, like a lightning bolt, it precisely struck the custom-made wristwatch on my wrist. "That watch... it's the exclusive token of the 'Underboss'!" His voice echoed through the silent hall, shaking all who heard it, filled with undisguised shock and bewilderment. Sophia froze in my arms. Her breathing abruptly hitched, her eyes, staring at me, now held not only terror but an incredulous mixture of shock and disbelief, as if struck by a bolt of lightning: "You... you are the Underboss?" Fread and Betty, as if clutching a final lifeline, had their fear replaced by distorted hope. They shrieked hysterically: "He's a liar! He's no Underboss! Kill him!" Their voices were like two dying beasts, making their last struggle. However, their clamor was soon completely obliterated by another descending figure. Sophia's father, the true, supreme Godfather, arrived like a deity. His appearance instantly solidified the air in the entire hall; everyone's heartbeats seemed to cease. "Apologize to Miss Collins." The Godfather's voice was devoid of emotion, cold, yet possessed absolute authority that commanded immediate obedience. Fread's family instantly fell silent. Then, he turned to Sophia, a complex flicker in his deep eyes, finally settling into cold resolve: "You are no longer a Collins." That sentence, like a sharp blade, cruelly pierced Sophia's heart. She shuddered violently, her body turning cold in my arms, as if all light and warmth had been drained from her in that instant. Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She was abandoned, disowned by her only blood relative, at the worst possible moment, her ties completely severed. My arm tightened around her even more. My hand, grasping her cold, trembling one, offered endless warmth and strength. In this moment of utter upheaval, these hands became her sole reliance, and my silent declaration to the world—no matter what happened, she would forever be my bride. We truly stood together now, facing this suddenly inverted world, and a future that was unknown but from which we would never retreat. After her sister swaps fiancés and forces her to marry a "bankrupt" man, Sophia accepts her fate—only to learn her new husband is heir to a powerful mafia empire. While her sister spirals in regret, Sophia finds unexpected love and loyalty in her arranged marriage. The one they cast aside becomes the one who rises.