My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147 Saying It Was Not Fake

Ryder curled his long fingers into tight fists. His knuckles turned white from the strain.

“Look at this dress,” I continued. I grabbed a handful of the midnight blue silk. “You spent thousands of dollars to build my armor. I needed you to buy my confidence tonight. I cannot survive in your world without your money shielding me. That terrifies me.

“The dress is just fabric, Ryder insisted. “You command the room with your mind.”

“They respect the silk, Ryder. They do not respect me. What happens when your father sees the photographs from tonight? He monitors your academic standing. He will investigate me. He will see a scholarship student from the East Side and he will crush me to protect your

brand.

“My father does not control my heart.”

“He controls your trust fund. He controls your future. If he cuts you off, what happens then?”

“Then I lose the money,” Ryder stated. He did not flinch. “I will burn the entire empire to the ground if it means I get to stand next to

you.

The sheer magnitude of his devotion stole the breath from my lungs.

“I pushed you away in the parking lot,” he reminded me. The memory of his rejection stung. “I tried to leave you in your quiet harbor. I tried to give you an out.”

“You told me it was all an act,” I said. “You told me not to read into the birthday gift.”

He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. A deep, heavy pain contorted his sharp features. He hated himself for the lies he told to

protect me.

“I lied,” he confessed. He opened his eyes. He looked down at my face with a desperate, heavy reverence. “I lied because I thought I was a monster. I lied because I thought my touch would ruin your flawless record. I thought I needed to save you from my own darkness.”

“You broke your own rule tonight.”

“I know.” He lifted his hands. He ran his calloused fingers through his ruined hair, pulling the dark strands back from his forehead. A visible tremor shook his massive frame. The Crestview bad boy, the heir who feared nothing, stood shivering on the concrete terrace. “I pulled you into the dead center of the chaos.”

“We crossed the boundary,” I whispered. My voice lost its fiery edge. A bone-deep exhaustion took over.

Let them see the truth, he challenged. His hazel eyes burned with a fierce, uncompromising demand. “I do not care about the rumors. I do not care about the principal or the society photographers. I stood in the cafeteria and told the entire school you were the center of my universe. I meant it.”

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Chapter 147 Saying It Was Not Fake

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He lifted his right hand. He hesitated. He kept his palm hovering an inch away from my cheek. He wanted to touch me, but the fear of breaking me held him back.

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“You are not a monster,” I told him. I did not lean into his hand. I stood my ground. “But you are a storm. And storms cause damage. The Steinmann legacy causes damage. I cannot afford to get caught in the wreckage of your world.”

The logic sounded sound. The facts remained undeniable. The gap between us was too vast, too dangerous to cross without casualties.

Ryder dropped his hand. His broad shoulders slumped. The defeat settled into his bones. He realized the magnitude of his mistake. He let his hunger win. He kissed me on the dark terrace, and in doing so, he dragged me into the very chaos he swore to protect me from.

“I know,” he murmured. The gravel in his voice scraped against the silent night. “I know the gap is massive. I know I carry too much broken baggage. I should have kept my distance. I should have left you alone in the library four years ago.”

My chest tightened. The words felt like sharp knives sliding between my ribs. He regretted the collision. He regretted the stars carved into the wooden bookshelf. He wanted to undo the entire arrangement to keep me safe in my quiet, lonely harbor.

“But you didn’t, I said. My voice broke on the final syllable.

Ryder looked at my mouth. He looked at my swollen lips, the undeniable evidence of our shared desperation. The cold wind pushed his dark hair across his forehead. The panic and the terror raged in his eyes, fighting a losing battle against the fierce, consuming devotion he harbored for four years.

The fake dating contract was dead. The safety net was gone. We stood in the aftermath, exposed and bleeding. We traded the security of our separate worlds for a few stolen minutes in the freezing cold.

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