The next day, Clara arrived at school in her brand new Bentley. The sleek, black car gleamed under the morning sun, turning heads and drawing a wave of whispers. Clara stepped out, feeling a mix of pride and apprehension as she smoothed down her skirt and adjusted her bag.
She walked towards the school entrance, her shoes clicking against the pavement, but the murmurs around her quickly grew louder and more pointed. "Look who finally decided to get herself a sugar daddy," one student sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.
Another voice chimed in, even crueler, "It was only a matter of time. Her tits are the only valuable assets that family has left."
Clara’s heart sank at the vicious comments, but she kept her head high, her steps unwavering. She knew rumors would inevitably start circulating, but hearing them confirmed in such a mean-spirited way stung deeply. She hated to be the center of attention.
She could feel the weight of her colleagues’ judgmental eyes on her as she passed. Some students openly gawked at the Bentley, while others whispered behind their hands, casting sideways glances at her. Clara’s cheeks flushed, both in shame and anger, but she refused to let their jealousy and spite get the better of her.
As she approached the entrance, she spotted Jessica standing by the lockers. Jessica and Clara greeted each other, Jessica's eyes wide with excitement. "What’s up with the Bentley, girl!?" Jessica exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.
Clara glanced around to make sure no one else was listening and leaned in closer to Jessica. "Yeah, it’s amazing," she said, almost whispering. "It was a gift from Adrian."
Jessica's eyes widened even more, and she grinned. "Shit, Clara! That's incredible. I wanted a Bentley for my birthday so bad, my parents gave me a Mercedes because according to them, my grades weren’t good enough for a Bentley. Well, anyway! Someone is getting spoiled by her sugar daddy… Or should I say… Sugar uncle…"
Clara blushed slightly, a mixture of pride and nervousness flickering in her eyes. "Yeah, I know," she admitted, her voice still low. "But please, don't you ever say that out loud again. I don't want to give them more ammunition. People are already commenting, everyone knows my family is broke."
Jessica's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "How are things going between you two?" she asked.
Clara's face lit up with a dreamy smile. "It's so amazing, Jess. He got a new house outside the city, it’s our new spot now. It feels like a dream."
Jessica watched her friend's expression closely and noticed a flicker of something else—something off. "But?" she probed gently.
Clara sighed, her smile fading. "We can never be together, not for real."
Jessica frowned. "Why not?"
Clara bit her lip, hesitating. "Because... he's, by all means, my uncle, Jess. And besides that, he made it clear that what we have isn't a relationship."
Jessica's eyes widened in shock. "Shit, I forgot about the uncle part being an issue at all. Well, that's... complicated. But you’re not exactly blood related, so…"
Clara nodded, her eyes downcast. "I know. And it's tearing me apart. When we're together, it feels so right. And then reality hits, and I realize we can't ever truly be together."
Clara got home and headed straight to her room, her mind racing. She needed to rehearse how she would tell her father that she spent the night at Jessica’s house instead of the truth, that she was with Adrian. Adrian told her he had already told her father about her new car and he seemed to be okay with it — but mentioned that Clara wasn’t really behaving well enough to deserve a car. She paced back and forth around her room, murmuring to herself, "I stayed at Jessica’s... we were studying late... I didn’t want to drive back...”
Her heart pounded as she ran through different versions of the story, trying to make it sound as convincing as possible. She knew her father would be suspicious, even more because of the Bentley, and she needed to be prepared.
Lost in her thoughts, Clara didn’t notice one of the maids standing at her door until she cleared her throat softly. Clara jumped, her hand flying to her chest. "Oh, you scared me, Daisy," she said, trying to compose herself.
"I’m sorry, Miss Clara," the maid said. "I just wanted to let you know that your father isn’t home right now, but he’ll be back for dinner anytime now. And he asked you to dress up because there will be guests."
Clara let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. "Thank you," she said.
Clara had no idea which guests her father had invited for dinner. She rummaged through her closet and settled on a sophisticated outfit—a sleek, midnight-blue dress that fell just above her knees. The dress had a fitted bodice with delicate, lace detailing around the neckline, which gave it an elegant touch. The skirt flared out slightly, creating a graceful silhouette, and she paired it with black heels that added just the right amount of polish. She completed the look with simple pearl earrings and a matching bracelet, the only jewelry she had — they belonged to her mother, two of the four pieces her father never sold because they weren’t that much valuable. She had her hair styled in soft, flowing waves that framed her face perfectly.
As she heard the doorbell ring, she took a final look in the mirror, adjusting the slight crease in her dress. With a deep breath, she headed downstairs, her heels clicking softly on the polished wood floor. She reached the bottom of the stairs just as the door swung open, revealing the guests.
Her heart sank when she saw who stood there. To her surprise, it was the Caldwells themselves—Henry Caldwell Sr. and his son, Henry Jr. Henry Sr. greeted her father with a firm handshake and a polite smile, while Henry Jr. stood slightly behind, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"Good evening, Clara," Henry Sr. said with a charming smile. "It's lovely to see you again."
Clara forced a polite smile. "Good evening, Mr. Caldwell. Henry," she added, nodding at the younger Caldwell.
Henry Jr. gave her a curt nod, his eyes flicking over her briefly before settling on a point somewhere beyond her shoulder. "Clara," he said, his tone neutral.
Richard appeared beside her, beaming. "Clara, darling, our guests must be hungry. Let's not keep them waiting. Dinner is almost ready."