My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 169

Chapter 169 Taking The Secret Back Stairs

375

He opened a heavy oak dresser drawer. He grabbed a plain black t-shirt. He pulled the cotton over his head, covering the drops of shower water on his chest. He reached for a pair of dark denim jeans resting on the back of a leather armchair.

I followed him out of the closet. My wet sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floorboards. I stood near the edge of the unmade mattress. My teeth began to chatter. The adrenaline crash left my muscles weak and shaking.

“Where do we go?” I asked.

“We leave the hills. We disappear into the city until we form a plan.” He shoved his feet into his heavy black combat boots. He laced them up. “But we need to move right now. The security team patrols the perimeter of this property. If they receive the call from the corporate office, they seal the massive iron gates. We will be prisoners.”

I looked toward the open bedroom door. The sprawling, silent mansion lay beyond the threshold. The head housekeeper, Maria, worked on the first floor. She offered me hot tea twenty minutes ago. Other staff members moved through the massive rooms, cleaning the pristine

surfaces.

“We cannot walk out the front doors,” I pointed out. “Maria saw me enter the mudroom. The security cameras monitor the main foyer.”

“Okay. We avoid the main corridors, Ryder confirmed.

He grabbed his scuffed leather jacket from the chair. He shrugged it over his broad shoulders. He walked to the oak desk. He picked his truck keys up from the wood. The metal keys clinked in his palm. He grabbed his dark leather wallet and shoved it into his back pocket.

He turned his attention back to the walk-in closet.

The cheap cardboard shoebox sat on the floorboards. The glossy photograph of the freshman girl in the gray sweater rested on top of the chewed yellow pencil and the blue ink star eraser. The physical proof of his four-year devotion sat exposed to the light.

A flicker of raw vulnerability crossed his sharp features. He spent forty-eight months hiding his heart in the dark. The exposure left him laid bare. He did not want to leave the artifacts behind.

He walked back into the closet. He picked the cardboard lid up from the woven rug. He placed the lid over the box, sealing the memories away. He lifted the cardboard base. He reached up and shoved the box deep onto the highest shelf, hiding it behind a thick row of winter coats. He protected the pieces of my life.

He returned to the bedroom. He grabbed the strap of my heavy canvas bag. He slung the bag over his own shoulder, taking the massive weight of my ruined textbooks.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. The fear sat heavy in my stomach, but the presence of the boy standing in front of me anchored my racing pulse. He proved his loyalty in blood and bone. He kept my secrets. He carried my burdens. I trusted him to navigate the storm.

1/3

13:52 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 169 Taking The Secret Back Stairs

We stepped out of the bedroom and into the long, carpeted hallway of the west wing.

75

5

The silence of the massive estate felt oppressive. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like a blaring alarm. The antique oil paintings on the walls stared down at us with cold, painted eyes. The wealth dripped from the crystal fixtures, creating a sterile, unforgiving environment.

Ryder did not head toward the grand curved staircase. He turned in the opposite direction. He led me down a narrow, unmarked corridor lined with closed wooden doors. The luxurious carpet faded into bare wood planks. The ornate wallpaper disappeared.

We reached the dead end of the hall. A solid wooden panel sat flush against the wall. It looked like a decorative architectural element. It lacked a brass doorknob or a visible keyhole.

Ryder pressed his palm against the center of the wood. He pushed hard.

The panel clicked. A hidden door swung inward, revealing a dark, narrow space.

“The service stairs, Ryder whispered. He kept his voice low to avoid echoing in the tight space. “The architects built them for the domestic staff fifty years ago. My father’s security team rarely monitors this exit. The cameras point at the main exterior doors. This stairwell leads straight down to the basement garage.”

He stepped into the shadows. He turned back to face me. He held his large, calloused hand out.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify