The Fake Heiress Who Borrowed My Life

4: 4

4

I swallowed the ache in my chest, and the moment I bent to pick up the keys, I made up my mind.

I was done with Teresa Simmons for good.

I didn't knock on her door. I just turned and walked away.

Back at the car, the tank was on empty, exactly as I'd expected.

I'd barely put it in gear when a text came through: Your vehicle, plate xxx, ran a red light on Clearbrook Road at 5:00 p.m. Please handle the violation promptly.

Five o'clock. That was right after I'd called Teresa.

Too angry to let it go, I screenshotted it and sent it to her:

"What is this?"

She fired back almost at once:

"You know exactly what this is!"

She'd done it on purpose.

Was that supposed to be a warning to me?

I lent her my car, I lent her my money, and somehow I was the one who needed to sit down and reflect on my mistakes.

Fine. She was right. I really did need to do some reflecting.

The next day, I called Teresa again:

"Teresa, can you pay me back today?"

She screamed into the phone, out of patience:

"Ada, what's your problem?"

"It's just eight thousand dollars."

"Do you have to hound me every single day?"

I said:

"You're the one who said you'd pay it back right away. And it's not eight thousand, it's eighty-eight hundred, plus everything you borrowed the times before that. You owe me thirty-six thousand two hundred forty-three dollars total."

Teresa shouted, "We're classmates, we even roomed together, and you're going to be like this? I'm busy. I don't have time to waste on you."

She chewed me out like she was the wronged one, laid all the blame on me, and hung up.

A month later, Teresa organized another outing in the group chat.

Teresa: "Hey everyone, a fancy new restaurant just opened on Newland Avenue. We haven't gotten together in ages, so let's meet up and try the food while we're at it."

The alumni group chat came alive instantly:

"Yes, please! One word from our class president and I'll be the first one there."

"Gorgeous Teresa is the best, always thinking of us old classmates."

"Right? Teresa's not just our class president, she's our guardian angel, our den mother. I'd call her Mom if she wanted."

"Sounds more like you want a wife. Haha."

Myrtle Chavez: "Not like a certain someone, dull as a plank, thick as a brick. Let's not bring her along this time."

And just like that, the conversation swung straight to me.

I typed back: "Works for me. I won't come. You all enjoy."

Less than a minute later, Teresa called:

"Ada, what's wrong? Why aren't you coming?"

I asked:

"What do you think?"

She paused a moment, then said:

"That trash Myrtle Chavez really is a piece of work. Don't be upset. I'll set her straight next time. Just make sure you come tonight."

"Oh, right, lend me the car. I'll come by for the keys in a bit. You get it, don't you?"

She hung up before I could answer.

She wasn't borrowing anymore. She was giving orders.

I gave a cold little smile. No way was I lending the car, and no way was I going to any party she put together.

But right then Timothy Gilbert called me on voice chat:

"Did Teresa pay you back?"

I answered:

"No."

Timothy said:

"I think I've got the picture. That car of hers is yours too, isn't it?"

"Mm." I admitted it with a nod.

Timothy asked:

"So are you still going to this party or not?"

I said:

"I don't want to."

Timothy was quiet for a moment.

"If I were you, I'd go. And I'd give Teresa something she'll never forget. Otherwise she'll have you under her thumb for the rest of your life."

That said, Timothy left it there.

I sat with it for a long time, until the doorbell rang outside.

I'd worked it out. Timothy was right. I was taking back everything that was mine, and I wasn't holding anything back this time.

I opened the door and tossed her the keys:

"There's no gas in it. If you want to drive it, remember to fill the tank, or you won't make it to the restaurant."

Teresa complained, unsatisfied:

"Ada, why didn't you fill it up? Are you setting me up on purpose? We're classmates, how can you play me like this?"

I said calmly:

"The car's mine. I fill it if I want to, I don't if I don't. Who knew you'd want to borrow it? You don't have to."

I held out my hand:

"Give me the keys back. Just don't borrow it."

Teresa snatched the keys tight in her grip:

"I'm joking. It's just a full tank, no big deal at all."

I took out my phone and pointed it at her:

"Here, say it clearly on camera that the car's in your hands today. That way if there's an accident or points get docked, there's proof."

Teresa stared at me, brows knotted tight, her eyes all but spitting fire.

I asked:

"Not borrowing the car after all?"

She said it through gritted teeth, spelled it out, then left without a backward glance.

That evening.

Same as always, everyone waited outside the hotel for Teresa, the last to arrive.

When she pulled up in the Mercedes and got out, the whole crowd swarmed her.

Myrtle sucked up to her:

"Teresa, you and this Mercedes are just perfect. Great car, great person, money without the airs, not like some people whose character is an absolute mess!"

I didn't shrink back the way I always had. I put my hand out to Teresa, straight up:

"Give me back the car keys."

Every eye turned to Teresa and me.

Teresa forced herself calm, grabbed my hand, and laughed:

"Ada, let's go inside and eat. If you want to borrow the car, we can talk about it privately after dinner."

I didn't give her an inch:

"You didn't actually think that after borrowing my car and playing rich lady a few times, the car was yours, did you?"

Teresa hadn't expected me to expose her on the spot, in front of this many people, without sparing her any face at all. She hissed through her teeth:

"Ada, you..."

I cut her off before she could go on, dropping a truth she couldn't argue with:

"You're not going to make me pull out the vehicle registration to prove the car's mine, are you?"

Every eye turned to Teresa.

Her face went white and stiff in an instant.