My Roommate Framed Me for Crashing Car—It’s Owner Was My Brother Chapter 03
“Grace, are you seriously insane?”
Ethan was the first one to object.
“It’s a beat-up bike. Why do you need pictures? You think Madison’s trying to screw you over?”
I gave a cold laugh. He might as well have confessed.
The riders around us reacted the same way, pointing at me and muttering under their breath.
A few girls jumped in eagerly.
“Wow. We’ve all known each other forever. You really think someone’s going to scam you over some crappy bike?”
“Exactly. Even if something did happen to it, Madison isn’t petty enough to make you pay.”
I stared at the circus around me and decided they weren’t worth arguing with.
When I stayed silent, Madison spoke up indignantly.
“Grace, it’s just a normal bike. It’s not worth much.”
“If you don’t want to lend me yours, fine. Why are you trying to humiliate me like this?”
“Insisting on pictures makes it sound like I deliberately gave you a damaged bike to set you up.”
After that, no one bothered hiding their contempt.
They edged closer until the circle around me tightened.
Ryan had clearly lost his patience.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me off the saddle.
“Grace, if you want to stay in this club, switch bikes and move. You’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time!”
I stepped back and looked from face to face, enunciating every word.
“So you’re all sure you’re going to force me to ride this bike today?”
“And you won’t even let me take pictures first?”
The mountain wind swept past us. For one beat, nobody spoke.
Then Ethan lifted his chin and sneered.
“Enough drama. We’re trying to help you. Get on the bike and let’s go.”
I nodded, a humorless smile tugging at my mouth.
“Fine. Just don’t regret it.”
The group started moving again.
I rode in the middle of the pack.
Ethan and Madison rode side by side at the very back.
The moment we hit the downhill stretch, the bike beneath me started shuddering out of control.
Then I started picking up speed, faster than I wanted.
I hadn’t even gone half a mile when I felt a sickening looseness shudder up through the frame.
I squeezed the brakes hard, fighting to keep my speed under control.
But I’d still underestimated Madison.
She didn’t just want to frame me. She wanted me dead.
With a sharp crack, the carbon-fiber frame split cleanly through the middle.
The front of the bike tore away from the rear, and I lost my balance, tumbling with it into the roadside ditch.
A dull bolt of pain tore through my lower body. When I looked down, a jagged edge had sliced a deep, ugly gash high across my thigh.
By the time the rest of the group crowded around, sweat beaded across my forehead.
Not one person looked at my injury. Every eye went straight to the bike.
Ethan rushed over first.
He crouched beside the shattered frame, examining it with almost comical concern.
Madison rushed over right on cue.
The second she saw the bike snapped in two, she collapsed to the ground.
“Oh my God. Oh my God! I borrowed that from Grant Whitmore!”
“That bike is worth more than $1.5 million. It’s a one-of-one custom build!”