My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 157

Chapter 157 Ruining My Own Practice Test

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The living room sat empty. The house felt quiet and still. My mother worked her afternoon shift at the diner. A small note rested on the

chipped formica kitchen table next to a cold cherry tart covered in plastic wrap.

Leftovers from the morning rush. Eat something. Love, Mom.

I picked up the sticky note. My fingers trembled. I stared at her familiar handwriting.

My mother scrubbed heavy ceramic plates for twelve hours a day. She plunged her hands into scalding, soapy water to pay the rent and keep the electricity running. She sacrificed her own youth to secure a stable foundation for my ambitions. The medical school track required the Valedictorian rank. The top spot guaranteed the specific premed scholarship. The second-place rank offered a partial grant, leaving a massive financial gap we could never cross.

I owed her a return on her staggering investment. I owed her the success she prayed for.

I walked down the narrow hallway to my bedroom. I dropped my heavy canvas bag onto the floorboards. I sat on the edge of my unmade

mattress.

I pulled my knees to my chest. I wrapped my arms around my legs.

The impossible choice materialized in the cramped space.

My academic future or his freedom.

My pristine pride or his survival.

For four years, I built an impenetrable fortress of perfect grades. I skipped parties. I ignored the chaotic drama of the B-wing. I traded sleep for biology flashcards and extra credit essays. I memorized cell structures and complex chemical bonds until my vision blurred. I wrapped my entire identity around my intellect. I was the smart girl from the East Side. The grades were my armor. The rank was my shield against the affluent elite.

Chloe demanded my armor. She demanded I strip myself bare and hand her the title.

If I maintained my grades, Chloe sent the contract. Principal Miller expelled Ryder. The Steinmann patriarch enacted his punishment. Ryder vanished from my world, locked in a gilded cage of corporate expectations.

If I failed the midterms, my grade point average dropped below Chloe’s score. She claimed the Valedictorian spot. She kept the contract hidden. Ryder stayed at Crestview. He graduated. He retained his freedom.

But I lost the premed scholarship. I lost the massive dream.

I closed my eyes. The tears breached my defenses. They spilled over my eyelashes and tracked down my cheeks, hot and fast. I did not wipe them away I let the deep, profound grief wash over my body. I grieved the flawless transcript. I grieved the validation I chased for

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13:51 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 157 Ruining My Own Practice Test

forty-eight months. I grieved the proud look my mother would never get to wear on graduation day,

I opened my eyes. I looked across the room.

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The custom midnight blue silk gown hung from the closet door. The fabric caught the afternoon light.

Ryder bought the expensive silk to protect my pride in the gymnasium. He broke a heavy brass lock to give me air on a freezing terrace. He wrapped his wool jacket around my shivering shoulders and stepped into the bitter wind in a thin cotton shirt. He took the hits. He absorbed the judgment. He guarded my gates with a fierce, unwavering devotion.

He traded his comfort for my safety.

It was my turn to guard the gates.

I uncurled my legs. I stood up from the mattress. I walked to my small wooden desk. I grabbed my canvas bag from the floor. I pulled out the thick biology textbook and the stack of blank index cards. I set them on the desk surface.

I pulled a blue pen from the front pocket of the bag. I opened a manila folder containing a massive practice exam for the upcoming

midterm.

I sat in the wooden desk chair. I stared at the first question.

I knew the answer. I knew the exact chemical process. I could write a three-page essay on the topic without checking a reference book. The knowledge lived in my bones.

I pressed the tip of the blue pen against the paper.

My chest ached with a sharp, hollow pain. The physical act felt like tearing a muscle. It went against every survival instinct I possessed. I took a shaky breath. I forced my hand to move.

I wrote a completely incorrect definition.

I moved to question two.

I marked the wrong sequence.

I moved to question three. I wrote a flawed equation.

With every deliberate mistake, the image of my pristine future fractured a little more. The medical school dream faded into a distant, unreachable mist. The prestige and the academic validation burned away.

But with every wrong answer, the image of Ryder facing a hostile school board dissolved. His freedom solidified. His future remained

intact.

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13:51 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 157 Ruining My Own Practice Test

I filled the entire first page with massive, glaring errors. I ruined the practice test. The blue ink marked my surrender.

I dropped the pen onto the desk. The plastic casing clattered against the wood.

I stared at the ruined exam. A strange, quiet calm settled over my frantic pulse. The terror vanished, replaced by a heavy, immovable

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