He Stole My Bugatti for His Cheerleader

To satisfy my boyfriend's vanity, I risked exposing my true identity and let him borrow that multi-million-dollar Bugatti.

I thought it was the most profound proof of our three years of love.

But the moment I turned my back, he treated the car like a hunting trophy, slapped a tacky pink ribbon on it, and gifted it to the cheerleading captain. As I was pinned against the scorching body of the car, enduring the mockery of the entire school, my phone still held the text message he had sent me last night: "A sense of ceremony for the one I love most."

Fighting through the burning pain of my torn cheek, I stared at the man walking toward me.

But what he didn't know was that the car actually belonged to me. And the price he was about to pay for this vanity would be more than he could ever bear.

The day before the semester started, my secret boyfriend, Liam, asked to borrow a sports car.

I froze for a moment, then almost wanted to laugh. He had never been willing to hold my hand in public, yet now he was asking to borrow a car. Assuming he was finally planning to bring our relationship into the light at homecoming and needed the vehicle to keep up appearances, I agreed to his request without hesitation.

He sent me a meme that read, "Borrowing a car, rent paid in a bouquet of roses," followed by a message: "A sense of ceremony for the one I love most."

I looked at the meme and the message, smiling in bright anticipation.

On the first day of class, I kept a low profile and rode my bicycle back to campus, only to find that supercar parked dead center in the school quad.

My face lit up with joy, completely ready to receive Liam’s big surprise.

But as I walked closer, I saw Chloe, the cheerleading captain, parading proudly on the hood.

"Oh my god, it's a supercar! A Bugatti!"

"That's an insane flex. Whose family owns this?"

"It has to be Chloe's. Look, she's standing right on it."

She uncorked a bottle of champagne. The sparkling liquid splashed recklessly all over the paint job.

The crowd erupted into deafening screams, and countless phones flashed wildly as people took photos of her.

"Thank you to my amazing boyfriend, Liam!" Chloe cheered, holding up the bottle and laughing vividly. "This is the ultimate homecoming gift he prepared for me!"

Liam? My boyfriend, Liam?

The night before, he had cornered me outside my dorm room, his eyes red as he pleaded, "Aria, just for one day. Please sneak that Bugatti out of the garage your dad manages. I just need it to keep up appearances."

I had hesitated. I had never told Liam that the car was actually registered under my name; I only told him my dad managed the garage and the vehicle belonged to his boss. But for the sake of his ego, I had agreed anyway.

This was what he called a sense of ceremony. Taking my car, just to roll out the red carpet for another woman.

I dropped my bicycle and shoved my way straight through the crowd.

"Chloe, get the hell off that car right now!"

My furious roar made the entire bustling quad fall completely silent for a second.

Chloe cast a condescending glance down at me. Her eyes swept over my faded, washed-out hoodie, and she let out a loud scoff.

"Look who it is." She deliberately ground her heel hard into the hood. "It's just the lowly garage manager's daughter, Aria."

The surrounding frat boys immediately burst into roaring laughter.

I ignored their mocking stares and pointed right beneath her feet. "Get down from there! That is my car!"

The surroundings went silent for half a second. Then Chloe laughed even louder.

"Yours?" She looked as though she had just heard the best joke of the semester, turning to the crowd and throwing her hands lightly in the air. "Did you hear that? This poor girl who eats free meals in the cafeteria says this Bugatti is hers."

The crowd exploded. People roared with laughter and whistled, but a few of them exchanged uncertain glances.

"Hold on... she doesn't look like she's joking..."

"Then prove it!" Chloe cut off all the murmurs, turning back to glare at me.

I yanked the driver's side door wide open and pointed directly at the center of the steering wheel. "There's a solid gold 'A.R' emblem embedded in the steering wheel. Those are my initials."

Chloe's smile froze for a fraction of a second. She leaned in to look inside the car, her gaze landing heavily on that gold crest.

"'A.R' is just 'A.R'." Her voice was a pitch higher than before. "How does that remotely prove it's your name?"

"Then what gives you the right to stand on my hood?" I shot back.

Chloe's face flushed crimson. Gritting her teeth, she swiftly flipped the half-empty champagne bottle and violently smashed the mouth of the bottle against the car's door frame. Then, clutching the jagged, broken glass neck, she ruthlessly scraped it straight into the gold emblem dead center on the steering wheel!

"You're ruining it!" I lunged at her like a madwoman.

"Hold her back!" Chloe screamed.

Two frat boys rushed over and violently twisted my arms behind my back from both sides, slamming my entire body down against the hood that had been baking in the sun all day. The scorching metal drew a muffled groan from my lips.

Chloe tossed aside the shattered glass and marched up to me in her four-inch stilettos.

She crouched down, pinched my chin, and forcefully jerked my face toward her.

"Your car?" she sneered. "Then why don't you call out to it right now, and see if it answers you?"

The surroundings went dead silent for half a second. Someone gasped.

Then, she abruptly let go.

Smack!

A sharp slap struck viciously across my cheek.

"A poor girl who rides a bike to school is so desperate to be rich she's lost her damn mind, huh?" Chloe grabbed a fistful of my hair. "What makes you think you're worthy enough to compete with me?"

The rapid clicking of phone camera shutters echoed all around us. Some people were jeering, while others whispered among themselves.

"Wait a minute... A.R... I've seen those initials on the Board of Directors' documents..."

"Shut up, you're drunk."

Blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. I could see the Bugatti's steering wheel behind her, where the gold "A.R" emblem still gleamed. Only now, it was severely mutilated and broken beyond recognition.

Just like my heart.