The day before the semester began, my childhood friend Daniel Carter asked if he could borrow my private jet.

Thinking he'd finally changed his ways, I agreed without a second thought.

A moment later, he transferred a single dollar, calling it rent because he couldn't stand the thought of freeloading.

The quirky amount said more than words ever could. I smiled and accepted it.

On the first day of school, I kept things low-key, taking a cab back to campus. But when I arrived, there it was, my private jet parked right in the middle of the quad.

The jet had been decked out in bubblegum pink, and students crowded around, their eyes shining with envy.

My heart leapt. For once, I thought Daniel had finally figured it out. Beaming, I braced myself for his surprise.

But as I drew closer, my smile froze. Sitting barefoot in the pilot's seat, my seat, was Clara West, the campus' queen bee.

The Jet That Wasn't Hers

"Oh my God, that's a private jet! Whose is it? That's insane!"

"You didn't see Clara, our department's queen bee, sitting inside? Figures."

"No wonder she posted yesterday that her back-to-school gift was sweet. Talk about filthy rich."

I stood on the edge of the crowd, watching my private jet smothered in pink ribbons and balloons like some oversized birthday cake, my brows tightening.

That jet, Serena Vale, had been my eighteenth-birthday gift.

And yesterday, my childhood friend Daniel borrowed it.

Thinking I must be seeing things, I pushed through the crowd to take a closer look.

I pulled aside the gaudy decorations on the tail, only to find the initials my mother had carved there herself had been scratched almost beyond recognition.

Clara, in a brand-new white dress and wearing a smug smile, strutted toward me with a flock of girls trailing behind.

She lifted her chin, squinting at me. "Serena? You're here too? I wasn't planning on showing off like this, but my boyfriend insisted the first day of school had to come with a surprise."

I stepped forward, my voice flat. "Clara, I'm giving you ten minutes to put my jet back the way it was."

Her smile froze, a flicker of panic crossing her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," I said, pointing at the ruined jet, "that this jet is mine. And for the record, I don't like people shoving their bare feet into my pilot's seat. It makes me sick."

"Liar! This jet was a gift from my boyfriend. He's the Carter family's only heir. The Carters—probably too far above you for you to even know the name! You show up here in cabs and now you're so desperate for money you'd stoop to claiming this is yours?"

With a cold laugh, she flicked her wrist. The girls at her side instantly shoved me against the fuselage.

The crack of her slap echoed in the air. My cheek burned like fire.

The crowd went silent. I locked my eyes on Clara, refusing to flinch.

My silence rattled Clara, but she lifted her chin again. "What are you looking at? Dressed like a pauper and still trying to play the heiress? If this jet is really yours, I'll bow and scrape."

I broke free of their grip and yanked the ribbon off the tail.

"Clara, do you even realize those letters, SV, are my initials?"

"Shut up, you shameless bitch! Still running your mouth?"

She grabbed my hair and tried to slam me into the tail.

"Open your damn eyes and show me where you see those letters!" she spat, stomping her foot in fury while yanking at my hair.

I shoved her away hard and pulled out my phone, dialing Daniel. The call was cut off instantly.

Jaw tight, I tried again. This time, the line went through.

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.

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."