Two Hopeless, Four Ruthless

"Oh, can't win a fight, so you're calling for backup? I heard you on that phone. You called a man, huh?"

Portia let out a mocking laugh. "More like a sugar daddy, I'd bet."

She snatched the phone from my hand and hurled it to the ground. "What, one idiot husband isn't enough for you? How many men have you got stashed on the side?

I stared at the shattered phone on the floor and drew a long breath. "Ms. Beaumont, I'm going to say this one last time. You've got the wrong person. Walk away now and take your people with you. I'll pretend none of this happened."

Portia burst out laughing. She turned to the guests who had gathered to watch the spectacle. "Did you all hear that? Some homewrecking little tramp is telling me to leave!"

A ripple of laughter rolled through the crowd.

"Ms. Beaumont, mistresses these days really have no shame."

"Right? She even brought her dimwit husband along as a cover. I've never seen anything like it."

Portia closed the distance in her towering stilettos, each step deliberate. She raised her hand, one manicured nail hovering just short of my nose.

"In Crestport, I am the law. Hit her."

The bodyguards clenched their fists and rushed at me. I squeezed my eyes shut on instinct, but the pain never came.

Iver had thrown himself around me, locking me against his chest with everything he had. "Don't... hit Millie."

His words came out slowly and unevenly, each syllable warbled. He had severe autism, and he did not understand what was happening around him. All he knew was that I could not get hurt, so he held on and refused to let go.

The bodyguards' fists kept landing on his back. Every muffled blow struck something deep inside my chest.

"Iver!" I fought to break free from his arms. "Let go of me! Your heart can't take this!"

Iver shook his head, stubborn as ever. The color had drained from his face, but his arms around me did not loosen by even an inch. "Millie... doesn't hurt. Won't let... Millie hurt. I'll block."

He forced a small smile to reassure me.

He was such a fool. He was shaking from the pain himself, and he was still worried about whether I was hurting.

"Stop! Make them stop!"

His heart could not withstand a beating like this. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I whipped around to glare at Portia. "Call them off. If they keep hitting him, he's going to die."

The staff around the room had begun to whisper among themselves.

"That outfit looks like the real thing. She doesn't carry herself like some escort either."

"Quiet. Ms. Beaumont is in a rage right now. You want to be next?"

The Beaumont family's head butler dabbed the cold sweat from his forehead and leaned in carefully. "Ms. Beaumont, this gentleman's complexion doesn't look right. I believe he may have a heart condition. If something were to actually happen..."

Portia slapped him across the face before he could finish. "Shut up. He's an idiot. What's so precious about him?"

She jabbed a finger toward Iver, contempt dripping from every word. "So what if he dies? I could write a check and make the whole thing disappear. Drag these two to the main hall. I want everyone in Crestport to see what happens when someone tries to steal from Portia Beaumont."

The bodyguards seized us and began dragging us toward the main hall. Iver clung to my hand, his fingers ice-cold. His chest heaved violently, and beads of sweat gathered across his forehead.

I thrashed and fought, my heels scraping against the floor with a piercing shriek. "Don't touch him! He has a heart condition! You're going to kill him!"

Portia strode ahead without so much as a backward glance. "Then let him die."