There were two famous deadweights in Kingsgate's high society. One was me, Millie Tanner, the pampered little princess whose only talents were shopping and throwing parties. The other was my childhood friend, Iver Langford, the fragile young heir born with autism and congenital heart failure.

However, my older brother was the most feared name in the underworld, and my second brother was the richest man in the country. Iver's older sister was the undefeated queen of the courtroom, and his second sister was a surgeon whose hands could bring back the dead.

One day, the four of them were chatting over a game of poker. "Raising one hopeless case takes the same effort as two. Might as well pair them off."

Just like that, Iver and I signed the marriage papers. Our married life consisted of maxing out my second brother's credit cards, raiding my older brother's dinner table, and waiting for his sisters to show up with care packages.

That was the routine, until my older brother sent us to attend a banquet at the Crestport tycoon's estate in his place. At the banquet, the tycoon's daughter, Portia Beaumont, waved around a blurry photo taken from behind and insisted I was the other woman who had stolen her boyfriend.

I kept my temper. "You have the wrong person. I'm married, and this is my husband."

Portia lost it on the spot and swung at me. "Married and still out here throwing yourself at men?"

Iver stepped in front of me on instinct and took the slap meant for me. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

She sneered, "Oh, is he slow? His wife's out cheating and he can't even tell, but he still jumps in to protect her? One's a tramp, and the other's an idiot. The perfect match!"

She flicked her wrist, and several bodyguards lunged toward us. "Get them both."

My heart ached as I looked at Iver, and I dialed my older brother's number. "Someone's picking on me."

These people had no idea. Crossing the four terrors of Kingsgate and living to tell about it was one thing. Messing with the two of us was something else entirely.

"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."

The bodyguards shoved Iver and me onto the red carpet in the center of the banquet hall.

Portia walked to the stage and raised her voice above the murmur of the crowd. "Everyone, may I have your attention?"

The room went silent in an instant. Every pair of eyes turned toward Iver and me.

Portia snapped her fingers, and the massive LED screen behind her flared to life. It displayed a blurry photograph taken from behind. The woman in the photo wore a white couture gown and was stepping into a black luxury sedan.

Portia pointed at the screen, then at me.

"This woman right here is the homewrecking slut who seduced my husband. She's married, and she's still out here fooling around, dragging her idiot husband along as a shield. Does she really think everyone in Crestport is blind?"

She swept her gaze across the audience. "Take a good look. Tell me that isn't her."

I happened to be wearing a white dress that evening as well. Anyone in the room with a remotely trained eye could have seen that the fabric and tailoring on mine were leagues beyond the gown in the photograph.

My second brother, Lance Tanner, had flown it in from Valenne specifically for me.

However, not a single person in that hall dared to say so.

"The dress is identical. Even the hairstyle matches. It's definitely her."

"What a disgrace. She looks so innocent on the outside, but rotten to the core."

"And that poor idiot doesn't even know his wife's stepping out on him."

The vicious remarks crashed over us in waves. Iver had always been extremely sensitive to bright lights and loud noise, and the chaos and stares became too much for him. He pressed his hands over his ears in pain. "Millie..."

He curled up on the ground, his breathing growing faster and more ragged by the second. The color drained visibly from his lips until they turned a bruised shade of purple.

I broke down and threw myself over him, pulling him into my arms. "Iver! Look at me! Deep breaths!"

My hands shook as I fumbled through his pockets. He always carried his emergency medication and portable oxygen pump with him. The pump was a device that Niamh Langford, his second sister, had personally developed for his heart condition.

My fingertips had just brushed the pill bottle when Portia stepped down from the stage and brought her heel down hard on the back of my hand. She snatched the medication and the oxygen pump away.

"You want this little thing to save his life?" She tossed the oxygen pump in the air and caught it.

"Beg me. Get on your knees and admit you're the other woman in front of everyone. Then I'll give it back."

"Millie... don't kneel." Iver forced the words out with what little strength he had left.

"Portia Beaumont!" I lifted my head and fixed my eyes on hers. "My older brother is Calder Tanner. The Tanner family, from Kingsgate. If you so much as touch a hair on his head, the Tanners will never let this go."

Portia stared blankly for a second before erupting into shrieking laughter.

"Calder Tanner? The Calder Tanner?" She laughed until tears streamed down her face. "Have you been reading too many novels? If you're Calder Tanner's sister, then I'm the goddamn Pope's daughter. You didn't even bother doing your homework. Nobody from the Tanner family is here tonight."

She was right about that. Calder had not planned to attend the banquet at all. Iver and I had only come because I was bored in Crestport and heard the Beaumont party would be lively, so we tagged along to crash it and score a free meal.

Portia watched me fall silent, and her smirk deepened. "What's wrong? Run out of lies?"

She tilted her chin up. "If anyone from the Tanner family had actually shown up, my father would've cleared the room to greet them himself."

The butler watched Iver's condition deteriorate by the second, and he could not hold himself back any longer. He stepped forward. "Ms. Beaumont, the oxygen pump cannot be disconnected from him. He looks like he truly cannot hold on much longer."

The smile vanished from Portia's face. She glared daggers at the butler. "I've said that if he dies, I'll pay for it."

She raised the oxygen pump in front of everyone and hurled it to the ground. The crash echoed through the hall as it shattered into pieces.

"No!"

I lunged forward, but two more bodyguards pinned me down. Portia seized a fistful of my hair and wrenched my head back.

"Does it hurt? Watching your precious little husband suffer? Then be a good girl and get on your knees. Apologize on a live broadcast to all of Crestport. Admit that you're a shameless homewrecker. Admit that you seduced my husband.

"The second you bow your head and confess, I'll be gracious enough to send this idiot to a hospital."

Iver struggled to open his eyes and shook his head at me. "Millie... don't kneel."

How could I refuse? This was Iver, the boy I had grown up with.

I was about to drop to my knees when a deep, thundering boom shook the heavy mahogany doors at the entrance of the banquet hall.

The banging continued, each impact heavier than the last. "Ms. Tanner, are you in there?"

Every head in the room snapped toward the doors. Hope surged through me. They were Calder's people, the ones he had stationed in Crestport. They had come.

I wrenched myself free from the bodyguards and screamed toward the doors until my voice cracked. "I'm in here!"

Relief flooded through me, and I screamed again with everything I had. "I'm here! Save Iver! Hurry, save him!"

Portia's expression shifted, then settled into something even more contemptuous. "So, your sugar daddy actually showed some spine and came? How touching."

She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt and let out a cold laugh. "A pack of gutter rats who wouldn't dare show their faces in broad daylight, and they think they can storm a Beaumont party? They must have a death wish."

She snatched up her radio, her voice dropping low. "Security team, riot squad, I want everyone mobilized. Beat those thugs within an inch of their lives. Break their legs. Initiate full lockdown. Seal every electromagnetic door in this building. I don't want so much as a fly getting through tonight."

The metal security shutters around the banquet hall slammed down on her command, cutting off every sound from outside. Heavy steel chains locked the mahogany doors into place. The muffled sounds of fighting and battering beyond the entrance grew fainter and fainter until they were almost gone.

The hope that had just sparked inside me was crushed in an instant.

"No! Open the doors! Open them!" I threw myself at the entrance like a woman possessed, pounding my fists against the shutters. The skin over my knuckles tore and bled, but I could not feel any of it. "Iver can't wait! Open the doors!"

Portia came up behind me, grabbed me by the collar, and flung me to the ground. "Go ahead, keep screaming."

She stood over me, savoring every inch of my despair. "You see that? That's your backup? A little underwhelming, wouldn't you say? When Portia Beaumont doesn't want someone getting in, not even the President himself could make it through those doors."

She pointed at Iver, who lay on the ground barely conscious.

"He's dying, isn't he? And it's all your fault. If you'd just admitted you were the other woman from the start, if you'd gotten on your knees and confessed, he wouldn't be suffering like this. Now the doors are sealed, and kneeling won't save him either."

Tears spilled down my face as I stared at Iver's lips, which had turned a dark shade of purple. I had never hated anyone this much in my entire life. Even when the catty socialites back in Kingsgate used to take their little jabs at me, I had always laughed it off.

I had four siblings shielding me. I never needed to fight. I never needed to compete. All I had to do was be happy and play the part of the carefree little princess. Yet now, the most important person in my world was dying right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do.

"Portia Beaumont."

I locked my eyes on hers, my voice raw and wrecked. "If anything happens to him today, I will drag your entire family down with him."

Portia threw her head back and laughed. "Oh no, I'm so scared."

Just then, the butler hurried in. His composure had slipped, and he leaned close to Portia's ear, whispering something in a rush.

Portia's eyes went wide. "Ronan is here?"

The name sent a flicker of hope through me. If he stepped forward and cleared things up, if he confirmed that he did not know me and that the woman in the photograph was not me, the whole misunderstanding would collapse.

Iver could get to the hospital.

"Ronan!" Portia rushed to greet him, her eyes already glistening. "Look what this woman did. She had the nerve to show up at my banquet and cause a scene. She even brought some idiot along just to humiliate me."

Ronan Whitford's gaze swept across the room and came to rest on me.

I forced myself to my feet and pointed at the photograph on the screen. "Mr. Whitford, tell her that I don't know you. I've never met you in my life. That woman in the photo isn't me."