My Husband and I Are Losers, but Our Four Siblings Are Powerful

"What, you can't win, so you're calling for backup?

"Vito? Listen to you, sounding all sweet. I bet he's the guy you're seeing behind your husband's back!"

Isabella snatched my phone and hurled it at the marble floor.

The screen shattered.

That still wasn't enough for her. She lifted one diamond-studded, red-soled heel and ground it into the phone a few times.

"A disabled husband isn't enough for you? How many men are you sleeping with on the side? You even use that sugary voice on street thugs?"

I stared at the pieces scattered across the floor and took a deep breath.

That was a custom satellite phone. Leon had Silicon Valley engineers build it just for me.

"Ms. Harrington, I'm going to say this one last time.

"You've got the wrong person.

"Call off your bodyguards now, and I'll treat everything that happened tonight as a misunderstanding."

Isabella stared at me for two seconds before doubling over with laughter.

She turned to the Manhattan elite, who sipped champagne as they watched the show.

"Did you all hear that? Some cheap hooker actually thinks she can threaten me!"

Mocking laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Isabella, call girls these days will do anything for a little attention."

"She brought along an autistic man who can't even take care of himself as her cover. With an act like that, she belongs on Broadway."

Isabella advanced on me slowly, her heels clicking against the marble.

"On the Upper East Side, what I say goes!

"Beat her! Leave her breathing and throw her out!"

Several bodyguards in tactical gloves charged at me at once.

I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut.

But the punches I braced for never landed on me.

Arthur shielded me with his slight frame, his arms locked tightly around me.

"Don't... touch Olivia."

Whenever he got nervous, his words came out slowly.

Arthur didn't understand why these people thought the worst of us. He couldn't even follow the filthy things they were saying.

His whole world ran on one simple rule.

Don't let Olivia get hurt.

Fists slammed into his back and stomach, one dull blow after another.

Thud!

Thud!

Every blow felt like it landed on my heart, too.

"Arthur!"

I shoved at him with everything I had.

"Let go of me! Your heart can't take this. You're going to die!"

But Arthur stubbornly kept his chin on my shoulder and wouldn't let go.

He broke out in a cold sweat that quickly soaked his shirt.

His face had gone deathly pale, and his lips were turning blue, but he still tried to smile at me.

"Olivia... it doesn't hurt.

"If I stand in front of you, you won't get hurt."

That fool!

Even on a good day, he couldn't handle strenuous exercise. How was he supposed to survive a beating from professional bodyguards?

"Stop! Get away from him, all of you!"

Red-eyed with rage, I screamed at Isabella.

"He has severe congenital heart failure! If you keep this up, he'll die!"

Even the hotel manager could tell something was wrong. He edged up beside Isabella.

"Ms. Harrington, that gentleman looks very ill, and the pulse in his neck is irregular.

"If someone dies at the gala and the police get involved, I'm afraid it could damage your family's reputation and share price..."

Smack!

Isabella backhanded him across the face.

"Shut up!

"He's a worthless loser with something wrong in his head. Does he think he's some precious little prince?"

There was something cruel in her eyes as she pointed at Arthur.

"What's his life worth, anyway? I could have ten men like him beaten to death tonight, and one check from my father would shut every one of their families up!

"Drag these two pieces of trash up to the auction stage!

"I want all of New York to see what happens when someone crosses me!"

The bodyguards stopped punching. They grabbed Arthur and me by the arms and dragged us toward the middle of the ballroom.

Arthur's fingers were ice-cold. His chest barely moved, and every breath came out as a thin wheeze.

I dug my bare feet into the floor. I'd lost my heels somewhere along the way.

"Don't touch him!

"His heart will stop!"

Isabella didn't even look back.

"Then let Death have him."