My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103 The Bad Boy Cleans Up

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“Mrs. Petrova,” Ryder said. The rough gravel in his tone vanished. “It is an honor to meet you. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

My mother blinked. She looked at his extended hand, then up at his face. She stepped forward and accepted the handshake.

“Mr. Steinmann,” she replied. Her tone remained guarded, searching for a crack in the facade. “You are punctual.”

“Ryder, please,” he offered. “And punctuality is the least I can do. Raisa speaks highly of your cooking. I know you work long hours at the diner, so I brought dessert from the bakery down the street. I hope you like cherry tart.”

He handed her the white box.

My mother took the ribbon-tied package. A faint, genuine surprise softened the harsh lines around her mouth.

“Cherry is my favorite,” she admitted. “Please, sit down in the dining room. Dinner is almost ready.”

She turned and carried the box into the kitchen.

I stood frozen in the hallway. I stared at the boy who shattered a metal locker with his bare fists. I stared at the boy who threw a metal trash can at a gang member to save my life.

He turned his head. He caught my stare. He offered a slow wink.

The gesture sent a rush of heat straight to my cheeks.

We moved to the dining room. The small space forced a close proximity. Ryder pulled out a wooden chair for me before taking the seat across the table. He moved with a practiced, fluid elegance. He belonged in high-society dining rooms with crystal chandeliers. He navigated the cramped, faded space of my home without a single look of pity or judgment. He made the cheap room feel important.

My mother brought the platter of roast chicken to the table. She set a bowl of potatoes near the center. We began to eat.

The clinking of silverware filled the quiet room. I pushed a piece of potato around my ceramic plate. The tension in my neck refused to unravel. The charm offensive worked for the introduction. He breached the outer walls of the fortress. But my mother was not a fool. She possessed a sharp, calculating mind honed by years of surviving the city on her own.

She took a sip of her water. She set her glass down on a coaster.

The pleasantries ended.

“So, Ryder, my mother started. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. The interrogation commenced. “I hear you are suspended from the school lacrosse team. The other mothers at the diner talk. They say you spend more time in the principal’s office than

in the classroom.”

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Chapter 103 The Bad Boy Cleans Up

I tensed. My grip on my fork turned white-knuckled. “Mom, that is not-

Ryder held up a hand. He stopped my defense. He met my mother’s gaze with unwavering eye contact. He did not look away.

The rumors are true, Mrs. Petrova,” Ryder admitted.

He did not deflect. He did not make excuses. He owned the darkness.

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“I made a lot of mistakes this year,” he continued. He kept his voice steady and calm. “I let anger dictate my actions. I lost my focus on

my future. I earned my reputation.”

My mother raised an eyebrow. She did not expect accountability. She expected a rich boy to blame the teachers or the rules.

“But meeting your daughter changed my perspective,” Ryder said. His voice dropped to a softer, more intimate register. The performance deepened. “Raisa is brilliant. She works harder than anyone I know. Watching her dedication forced me to look at my own life. I asked her to tutor me because I needed to fix my grades, but I kept spending time with her because she makes me want to be a better man.”

My mother studied his face. She searched for the lie. She searched for the manipulation hiding behind the tailored shirt.

The confession sounded flawless. It fit the narrative of the reformed bad boy. It fit the public image we agreed to project in the drama

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