My Friend, the Fake Rich Kid

Stripped of Dignity

The next second, Daniel's impatient voice blasted through the line. "Serena, will you quit already? Calling nonstop like your life depends on it."

The sound of his voice froze me in place. Before I could speak, the call cut off with a cold, flat beep.

My face went rigid with fury. I raised my phone to dial again and shouted, "Daniel borrowed this jet from me for one dollar! I have the proof!"

Clara's expression darkened. She snatched the phone from my hand, smashed it to the ground, and slapped me hard across the face.

"Daniel? Borrowed a jet from you? Who do you think you are? At least make your lies believable. A single dollar, and you expect anyone to believe you own a jet?"

Her mocking gaze raked over me. "Serena, stop pretending. Just looking at your shabby self makes me sick."

She pulled out her own phone and started dialing.

On the screen, the name "Dan" flashed, sharp as a blade to the heart.

The call connected almost immediately. I jumped in before she could speak. "Daniel, why is my jet—"

Another slap from Clara cut me off mid-sentence.

Daniel's voice came, sharp and unfamiliar. "Who is this? Are you done? And why are you holding Clara's phone? What did you do to her?"

My chest tightened. Daniel and I had grown up side by side.

For ten years, he had shielded me and cared for me. He knew how particular I was about cleanliness, and he would always wipe down my seat before I sat.

Ten years. This same Daniel, the boy who used to slip painkillers and a chocolate bar into my backpack when I had my period, was now pretending he had never even known me.

Clara's eyes glittered with triumph as she swung her arm, slapping me across the face again and again.

Then, she turned to the phone, her voice breaking into pitiful sobs. "Dan, hurry… Someone hit me. She's so mean. I'm scared."

The moment Daniel heard Clara's voice, his tone softened, patient and tender. "Clare, don't be afraid. Who laid a hand on you? I'm coming right now."

Around us, a few onlookers began whispering.

"Wait, the tail really does have an engraving. It looks scratched."

"No way. That jet was a gift from Daniel. You must be blind."

Clara hung up, her expression flickering, but she quickly recovered and raised her voice to the crowd. "You all heard him! Daniel doesn't even know her! She's just jealous, pretending to own a jet so she can ride on our fame. Pathetic!"

She jabbed a finger hard at my face. "Serena, have you lost your mind from being broke? How dare you covet the jet Daniel gave me?"

I stayed silent, and Clara took my quiet as guilt. With a sudden shove, she knocked me back.

"What's wrong? Out of lies already? Keep pretending! You show up in those ten-dollar canvas sneakers, taking a cab to campus, and you still have the nerve to talk about owning a jet?"

Her entourage began to jeer.

"Yeah! Lying parasite, get out of here. Don't dirty our campus queen bee's spot!"

"Probably never even been on a plane, and she's out here acting like some heiress."

I cut in coldly, my voice steady. "Whether that jet is mine isn't for you to decide."

I turned, ready to board and retrieve my papers, but Clara yanked me back with a vicious grip.

She looked at me as though I were filth. "If you dirty my jet, could you even afford to pay for it?"

Her pull threw me off balance, and I fell hard to my knees.

"The leather seats on this jet cost more than your entire life." She sneered. "Selling you wouldn't cover the damage."

I gritted my teeth and forced myself up, ignoring the searing pain in my knees as I moved toward the boarding stairs.

Inside the storage compartment were all the documents proving the jet was mine and even the treasured recording of my very first flight.

However, the moment I set foot on the first step, Clara came charging after me like she'd lost her mind. She yanked my hair from behind with brutal force, dragging me down.

With a sickening thud, I hit the concrete hard.

"Who said you could get on that jet, you worthless brat?"

Clara ground her heel into the back of my hand, looming over me with a vicious glare.

"Serena, be smart and admit you're a liar. Otherwise, you won't be walking out of this campus today."

I glared back at her, pain burning through me, and forced out the words. "My people are on their way. Let me go right now, or else—"

She barked out a laugh, as if I had told the most ridiculous joke she'd ever heard. Then, she slammed my head against the ground.

"Or else what? You think you have people? In Kingston, who would dare go against Daniel?"

She kept smashing my head down until warm blood trickled across my cheek and splattered on her shoes.

Clara lifted her foot and rubbed her shoe against my face with contempt. "Filthy blood from a pauper like you. Look what you did to my shoes. Lick it off!"

I spat at her instead, rage flaring through the pain.

Her eyes blazed with even crueler malice. "Still defiant? Someone like you couldn't afford a plane ticket even if you sold yourself. But lucky you, I'm feeling generous today. I'll let you experience what it's like to board a jet."

With that, Clara seized my collar and tore it open in one violent yank.

The fabric ripped with a harsh, splitting sound. A long tear spread across my blouse.

A few girls in the crowd turned away, unable to stomach the sight, but several guys immediately whipped out their phones, shoving their cameras in my face.

"Come on, let's get her some glamour shots. Didn't she love posing with jets? Let's give her the experience of a lifetime."

Clara yanked my blouse wider, exposing more of my skin. "Smile for the camera, princess. What's wrong? Not acting like an heiress now?"

I tried to shield my face, but a group of boys rushed over and pinned my arms down.

"Don't hide, Miss Heiress. Smile nicely and I'll even line up some clients for you."

As if that weren't enough, Clara reached for my waistband with a sneer. "Take them off. They're worthless anyway. Who knows? Maybe some rich man with special tastes will pay a little extra for you."

"Let go of me!" My throat tore with the force of my scream. "Clara, you'll regret this!"

"Regret it? The only thing I regret is not exposing your lies sooner."

The whispers around us swelled.

"This is going too far. She doesn't deserve this."

"Yeah, liar or not, this is—"

Clara snapped her head toward them, her glare cutting like a knife. "One more word, and I'll deal with you too."

The crowd fell silent at once.

Clara, mistaking the daze in my eyes for fear, grew bolder. She tugged at me, arranging me like a doll.

"Don't touch me!" My voice broke into a roar as I gathered every ounce of strength left in me. My palm cracked against her cheek in a sharp, echoing slap.

Clara's head snapped to the side, blood spilling from the corner of her mouth. She stared at me, stunned, clutching her face.

"How dare you hit me?" Her voice shook with madness as she lunged.

But just then, the crowd rippled with sudden commotion. "Daniel's here!"

I jerked my head up.

And there he was, Daniel, dressed in the custom-made suit I had given him only two days ago, striding through the parting crowd toward me.