My Friend, the Fake Rich Kid

He Protected Her

Daniel's gaze landed on Clara first.

When he saw her swollen face and the blood at the corner of her mouth, his expression dropped like a stone. "Clare!"

He rushed over, gathered her into his arms, his voice raw with worry. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

Tears spilled from Clara's eyes as she sobbed, barely able to breathe. "Dan, she's lost her mind. She pretended to own the jet and then hit me."

Only then did Daniel look up at me. He looked flustered and, as if on instinct, turned away.

"I'm in so much pain." Clara gasped. "What if I'm disfigured? What will I do then?"

Daniel smoothed her cheek. When his eyes fell on the phone smashed into pieces on the ground, his features settled into composure.

He looked at me with utter disgust. "Serena, how did I never realize you were capable of something this cruel?"

Watching him protect Clara felt like an invisible hand crushing my heart until I couldn't breathe.

"Cruel?" I managed, laughing through my tears.

He had once leapt into a fight for me after I'd been shoved. He had told me, 'I will always protect you.'

Ten years of us, and this was all it came to.

I pointed at the ruined jet, my voice shaking. "Daniel, this is the jet you borrowed from me. It's my jet."

"Your jet?" A flicker of unease passed through Daniel's eyes, quickly replaced by arrogance.

"Serena, can't you at least come up with a halfway decent lie? You've been making things up since you were a kid. You're nothing but eaten up with jealousy. Clara's been patient with you, and you still shove it back in her face."

Clara cried harder in his arms.

Daniel wiped the blood from her mouth, then turned to me, hard. "Anyone who hits my girl has to pay."

He took a drag of his cigarette, bent down suddenly, and with a sharp twist of his wrist pressed the lit tip against my forearm. "You forced me," he said.

The skin seared with a sharp, metallic sting. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

I screamed, cold sweat breaking out, pain knocking the breath out of me.

He flicked his chin at the bodyguards behind him, his eyes hard. "Grab her."

I backed away on instinct. "Daniel, what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" He held Clara tight, forcing the pity out of his eyes, and said coldly, "You love claiming other people's jets as your own, don't you? Let's give you a taste of being hung upside down."

He pointed at the landing gear. "Hoist her up there. Make her think about what she's done."