Daddy’s billionaire step-brother
Chapter 8: Party girls sometimes get hurt

The once enchanting mansion now seemed like a haunted place, echoing with the sounds of laughter and revelry that mocked her pain. She wandered aimlessly through the crowd, feeling lost and alone amidst the sea of happy faces. The weight of Marcus's words bore down on her, each step a struggle against the tears threatening to overwhelm her. It was a terrible mistake to come here, she realized bitterly, and an even greater mistake to believe that someone like Marcus could care for her. The realization stung with a rawness that made her chest ache.

Amidst the pulsing music and swirling dancers, Clara's vision blurred with tears. She spotted a table littered with tequila shots, the fiery liquid beckoning to her like a fleeting escape. Without hesitation, she grabbed one shot glass and then another, the burn of alcohol providing a brief numbing sensation to her shattered emotions.

She tried to locate her friends in the crowd, her head spinning with dizziness from the alcohol. The mansion was huge and crowded, she knew locating her friends wouldn't be easy. The room seemed to tilt as she fumbled for her phone, fingers trembling as she scrolled through her contacts. She intended to text Jessica, her closest friend, seeking solace and support in her despair.

But as Clara's gaze landed on her contact list, she hesitated. There, among the familiar names, was one she never thought she would want or need to contact in such a state.

With trembling fingers, Clara tapped out a message, her thoughts and emotions swirling in a tumultuous mix. "Hey," she typed hesitantly, unsure of what she was seeking or expecting. The alcohol dulled her inhibitions. She stared at her phone, the screen illuminating her tear-streaked face as she realized the name she had just texted: Adrian Belfort.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Seconds ticked by like hours as Clara's thoughts spiraled. She wanted comfort, reassurance-someone to tell her that everything would be okay. But texting Adrian in this state felt wrong, like a breach of trust, an intrusion into a relationship that had always been based on respectful distance and familial ties.

Just as she contemplated deleting the message and pretending it never happened, her phone buzzed in her hand. Clara's heart skipped a beat as she saw Adrian's name on the screen.

The message was short and filled with concern: "Clara, are you okay? What's going on?"

Tears welled up in Clara's eyes anew. With trembling fingers, she typed out a response, her words pouring out in a jumble of emotion.

"I'm not," she admitted, her fingers hesitating over the screen. "I just want to get out of this place."

As she hit send, Clara felt a wave of confusing regret wash over her. She had reached out to Adrian in a moment of desperation, but they were not close or intimate enough for something like this. Of all people, why would she contact him? What would he think of her? Feeling her heart aching even more, she reached for the table for another shot of tequila, hoping the alcohol would burn her sorrows too.

Clara swayed on the dance floor, lost in the rhythm of the music and the haze of alcohol that clouded her senses. Lights flickered around her, blurring into streaks of color as she moved with reckless abandon. In her drunken state, the pain and betrayal she had felt earlier seemed distant, replaced by a fleeting sense of euphoria.

Marcus approached her with a smile, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass. "Hey Clara, I'm glad to see you're having fun."

She turned to him with glassy eyes, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated. "You're bad," she slurred, pushing him away with surprising strength. "I don't want to talk to you."

Marcus's smile faltered, replaced by a look of concern. "Come on, Clara," he urged, leaning in closer. "Let's go to the library. We can have more fun there."

At the mention of the library, Clara's face lit up with a childlike excitement. "Library?" she repeated, her voice brightening. Despite her intoxication, her love for books remained a steadfast part of her identity.

Marcus moved to guide her towards the library, his hands reaching out to grasp her arm gently. But Clara recoiled, her defenses kicking in even in her inebriated state. She pushed him away again, stumbling slightly as she regained her balance. "No," she protested, her voice wavering. "I don't want to go with you."

Marcus's expression hardened for a moment, frustration flickering across his features. "Clara, come on," he insisted, his tone more forceful now. "You'll enjoy it, I promise."

But Clara shook her head, her determination fueled by the remnants of clarity amidst the alcohol. "No," she repeated firmly, stepping back from him. "Leave me alone."

Marcus, determined despite Clara's protests, attempted to lift her from the chaotic dance floor and carry her toward the library. However, a stern voice suddenly interrupted him.

"Leave her alone," the voice commanded, cutting through the thumping music. Marcus turned sharply, his expression defiant, ready to challenge whoever dared interfere.

Standing before him was a man in his forties, his stance firm and authoritative. "Who the hell are you?" Marcus demanded, his tone edged with hostility.

Clara, swaying on her feet and struggling to focus, mumbled softly, "Mr. Belfort."

Adrian Belfort stepped forward, his gaze unwavering as he addressed Marcus. "I said to leave her alone," he repeated firmly, his voice brooking no argument. Turning to Clara, he asked with concern, "Are you okay, Clara?"

Clara blinked heavily, her words slurred as she tried to respond. Her senses dulled by alcohol, she leaned against Adrian's solid frame for support, unable to stand on her own.

Adrian gently lifted Clara into his arms, his actions protective and decisive. Ignoring Marcus's bewildered expression, Adrian began to carry Clara away from the pulsing lights and the turmoil of the party.

Infuriated by this intrusion, Marcus followed after them, his voice sharp with indignation. "How did you even get in here?" he demanded.

Adrian stopped abruptly, turning to face Marcus with a glare of warning. "You should shut up now," he snapped, his tone cold and clipped. "Before I leak the documents of your dad's tax evasion scheme."

Marcus faltered, taken aback by Adrian's steely resolve. The mention of his father seemed to strike a nerve, the threat made him both scared and confused-how did that guy even know about this? He hesitated, weighing his options as Adrian continued to carry Clara away from the chaos, her head resting limply against his shoulder.