My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 171

Chapter 171 His Father Is Calling Him

“I will handle Miller on Monday morning.”

“You cannot fix this. I raised my voice. The raw panic clawed at my throat. “Stop making promises you cannot keep. The proof exists in blue ink. The school board reviews conspiracy cases. We broke the code of conduct. We lied to cover up a physical fight on school

property.”

Ryder tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles turned stark white. “I will hire a private lawyer. I possess my own trust fund. I will pay the board off. I will bury Chloe in legal threats until she retracts the leak.”

“You cannot buy my reputation back, I countered. The tears welled in my eyes again, hot and stinging. “My rank is gone. My perfect grades are ruined. The medical school track is dead. She took everything.”

“She took a piece of paper. He turned his head to look at me. The fierce, golden fire returned to his hazel eyes, cutting through the shadows of the cab. “She did not take your brilliant mind. She did not take your strength. You survived the East Side. You survived four years in that toxic brick building. You will survive a leaked photograph.”

“You do not understand.” I rested my forehead against the cold side window. The rain continued to pound the glass, a chaotic drumbeat matching my pulse. “I was the smart girl. That was my only defense. When Harper mocked my cheap clothes, I used my test scores as a shield. When Trent mocked my mother’s diner, I used my grade point average as a weapon. I possessed nothing else.”

“You possess me.”

The raw confession hung in the warm air of the cab.

I turned my head. I looked at the boy sitting beside me. He surrendered his deepest secrets in the dark closet ten minutes ago. He kept my chewed yellow pencil and my lost biology card. He spent forty-eight months watching me from the shadows, carrying a quiet, heavy

devotion.

He was willing to face an expulsion to save my pride.

“They will expel you, Ryder,” I told him. The truth tasted bitter on my tongue. “Miller warned you. One more strike and you leave Crestview. The contract is the final strike. The legacy ends.”

“Let it end.” He shifted his gaze back to the wet road. He did not flinch. He did not hesitate. “I despise the Steinmann legacy. I despise the corporate mold. If they kick me out, I walk away. I am not afraid of losing a school. I am afraid of losing you.”

A massive ache expanded behind my ribs. He accepted the ruin with open arms. He embraced the destruction because it meant he got to

stay by my side.

We left the affluent hills. The sprawling estates faded in the rearview mirror. The truck tires hit the cracked, uneven asphalt of the city limits. The transition felt jarring. We crossed the invisible border separating the elite world from the gritty reality of the working class.

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Chapter 171 His Father Is Calling Him

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The rain began to slow, transitioning from a heavy downpour to a steady, relentless drizzle. The rhythmic scrape of the windshield wipers

marked the passing seconds.

I reached across the center console. I uncurled my cold fingers and rested my hand on his thigh. The rough denim of his jeans felt grounded and real. He pulled his right hand off the steering wheel and covered my fingers. His palm felt warm and calloused against my

freezing skin.

We drove in silence for another mile. The chaos of the afternoon settled into a grim, tense waiting game. We escaped the immediate threat of his father’s security team, but the massive storm loomed on the horizon. The weekend offered a brief, fragile pause before the

administration issued the final judgment on Monday morning.

I watched the neon signs of the city storefronts blur past the window. I tried to formulate a plan. I needed to tell my mother. I needed to walk into our small house, look into her tired eyes, and confess the failure. The thought made my stomach churn. She scrubbed ceramic plates for twelve hours a day to fund a dream I just set on fire. I dreaded the disappointment in her expression more than the cruelty of

the Crestview elite.

A sharp, piercing noise shattered the quiet.

The sound did not come from my canvas bag. My phone remained dead and buried under my textbooks.

The noise came from the center of the dashboard.

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