Clad
"Harley, wasn't it?"
Daniel's voice cut through the air, smooth yet dripping with that smug arrogance I remembered all too well. He stood before me, dressed in a tailored suit, his sharp features still carrying that infuriating smirk he had perfected over the years.
I frowned. 'Don't take the bait.'
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said firmly, keeping my voice level, unreadable. I knew better than to give him anything to latch onto.
"Oh, really?" His smile widened, but there was a calculated glint in his eyes. He was fishing. Testing me. But I wouldn't let him reel me in. I had vowed—never again. Neither he nor my father would manipulate me.
"Yes. Anything else?" I tilted my head slightly, voice crisp, uninterested. "If not, I have other matters to attend to. If you don't mind."
I turned away, slow and deliberate, making it clear that he was insignificant in my world.
But Daniel wasn't done.
"Oh, well, that's sad then," he mused, feigning disappointment. "I thought I had picked the right one, even lent her money—poor thing didn't have taxi fare. To think I gave away my money carelessly..." His voice trailed off, but there was something else beneath his act—amusement.
I clenched my fists. My nails bit into my palms. 'Focus. Focus. Don't lose it now. '
I swallowed down the anger bubbling in my chest and instead gave him a flat, bored stare. "Too bad," I said, my tone laced with disinterest.
His eyes flickered, looking for a reaction. He wouldn't get one.
"Though," I continued casually, "I'm sure you could always ask my father to give you money. You are, after all, his favorite puppet substitute."
The smirk fell from Daniel's lips.
For just a fleeting moment, his mask cracked. A shift in the air—dangerous, dark. His energy turned almost murderous, and I lived for it.
Got you.
I smirked. "What? Did I say something wrong?" My voice was all innocent mockery. "You always ran to my father for help during our university days. I'm sure he'd love to assist you now. By the way, does he know you're back from Asia? I bet he'd be thrilled to catch up."
Daniel's face drained of color. If he threw up seafood right now, I wouldn't be surprised—not that I'd feel sorry for him. I hate seafood. Allergic as hell. Ever since I was a kid, I've associated that nasty green hue with nausea.
His jaw tightened, and then he shot back, voice sharp, "Clad, don't take it too far. If you weren't such a disappointment of a son, he wouldn't have needed to seek others outside."
I laughed. Genuinely laughed.
Daniel's eyes widened, his shock priceless. He had expected that to sting. A younger me might've flinched, might've cared. But that phase was long gone. I wasn't in primary school, desperately seeking validation from a family that never gave a damn.
"Is that so?" I asked, still chuckling. "Did he tell you that himself? Then he's in for a ride—because I'm not done being a disappointment. And don't even try to deny it—I know you're going to run off and call him the moment I leave."
Daniel opened his mouth, probably to refute, but I didn't give him the chance.
"I know you, Daniel. Since our school days, you've been a snake dressed as a rabbit. That's how my father fell for you—the ideal youngest son." I tilted my head, letting my words sink in. "Tell me, does he still tell you bedtime stories?"
His lips parted slightly, caught between rage and disbelief.
"Clad—"
"Listen," I interrupted coolly, "you started this. I was going to walk right past you because, honestly? You don't exist to me. But you wanted this, so now, when you file your little report with him, at least you'll have something real to say. No need to Photoshop images of me at a strip club this time."
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just for him.
"Tell him I'm living. Leisurely traveling. Fooling around. That should help you secure the inheritance he promised you in my name—oh, sorry, I meant the one he promised to take back from me."
Then, without sparing him another glance, I walked away.
'Shit. '
'That was close. '
As I exited the airport, I kept my pace steady, not looking back. I had almost lost my cool. Almost cracked when he mentioned Harley.
Then I remembered my phone. Pulling it out, I checked the screen. 15 minutes.
The call had been running for 15 damn minutes.
Before I could even exhale, Liam's voice came through, dry as ever.
"Was that Daniel?"
"Uh-huh." I stepped out onto the curb, hailing a cab.
"Damn. You must have shit luck to run into him out of all people."
My thoughts exactly.
Was it karma? Nah. I didn't believe in that kind of nonsense. But still... out of all the skeletons in my closet, him?
"You should probably handle your business quickly and return to New York… safely," Max—the designated worrywart—added.
"Hey, now, I thought we were over the 'afraid of Dad' phase," Liam chimed in, amused. He knew exactly what Max was getting at.
I scoffed. "And when was the last time you spoke to your dad?"
Predicting his reaction, I swiftly moved the phone away from my ear and—
Yep. Right on cue.
"#$##$####$$, jerk, asshole!" Liam's voice exploded. "It's your fault my father doesn't speak to me! When your family exiled you, you dragged my ass with you, and now I'm condemned too!"
I smirked. "Oh? And here I thought you were condemned because you refused a marriage."
Silence.
Another victory.
"You're an asshole, you know that?" Liam muttered.
"And your friend," I reminded him cheerfully.
"Tsk. Whatever. My patients are waiting. I'm hanging up." He cut the call, still fuming.
Max sighed. "Clad… that was a little too much. We agreed we wouldn't bring up his arranged marriage."
"I know," I admitted, shifting in my seat. "But he needs to learn to move on. It wasn't exactly his fault."
Hell. I should be taking my own advice.
"Tsk. If only you could follow your own advice," Max said dryly.
My lips twitched. "Whatever. I gotta go."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't forget, dinner's tonight. I ordered expensive wine as a gift. It'll be dropped off at your hotel. I'll call you 30 minutes before to remind you."
I exhaled. "No."
"No?" He sounded confused.
"Find the cheapest wine you can. Send that instead."
"Clad, what the hell, dude? Where's the goodwill in that?"
"There isn't any." I shrugged. "They didn't show goodwill either—with their shitty flight ticket. And their daughter caused me unnecessary trouble."
Silence. Then—Max sighed dramatically. "Fine."
More shuffling. Then, just as he was about to hang up, he muttered, "Petty king."
The call ended.
I smirked. Damn right.
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