My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 181

Chapter 181 Heavy Knocks At The Door

The injustice burned my throat. I stood up from the mattress. I paced the narrow length of my bedroom. Four steps forward. Four steps

back.

I spent my high school career playing by the rules. I kept my head down. I ignored the cruel whispers. I ignored Trent Lawson’s insults. I ignored Harper Vance’s mocking laughter. I poured every ounce of my energy into my textbooks. I believed hard work offered a shield against their immense wealth.

I believed wrong.

Wealth won. Privilege secured the victory. Chloe bypassed the principal and went straight to the school board because her family have connections. She manipulated the system with effortless ease. She used my genuine connection with Ryder to build a toxic, devastating

narrative.

I stopped pacing. I leaned my hands against the edge of my wooden desk. I dropped my head forward.

The tears breached my defenses. They spilled over my eyelashes and hit the polished wood.

I cried for the terrified freshman girl in the gray sweater. She walked into Crestview Prep four years ago, clutching a cheap binder, desperate to prove she belonged. She survived the brutal social hierarchy. She earned the top rank.

She died today in Principal Miller’s office.

I cried until my chest ached. I cried until my throat felt raw and scraped.

I wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. I needed to breathe. I walked to the small window overlooking the street. I twisted the plastic rod, opening the blinds a fraction of an inch.

The cold spring rain continued to fall. It washed the cracked concrete of the East Side sidewalks. It battered the roof of the failing laundromat down the block. The gray sky mirrored the hollow void in my stomach.

I thought about Ryder.

He surrendered his trust fund to protect me. He offered to take the sole blame in the principal’s office. He lied to Miller. He called himself

a monster to save my transcript.

He failed to save the transcript, but his devotion remained untouched.

He kept the chewed yellow pencil. He kept the lost biology flashcard. He watched me for four years.

I let go of the plastic blind. The slats snapped shut, plunging the room back into shadow.

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Chapter 181 Heavy Knocks At The Door

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I walked back to the desk. I picked up the biology textbook resting on the floor near my canvas bag. I hauled the heavy book onto the

wood surface. I flipped the thick pages open. The complex diagrams of cellular structures stared back at me.

I traced the lines with my index finger.

I sat down in the wooden chair. I pulled the stack of blank index cards closer. I picked up a blue ink pen.

I did not need to study. The administration suspended me. The board planned an expulsion hearing. My academic career sat on the edge

of a massive cliff.

I clicked the top of the pen.

I filled one card. I moved to the next.

Two hours passed. I created a flawless study guide for a final exam I would never take. The steady motion calmed my frayed nerves. The scientific facts offered a solid, undeniable truth in a world built on toxic lies.

The wall clock in the kitchen chimed noon.

My hand cramped. I set the blue pen down. I rubbed my sore knuckles.

I looked at the neat stack of completed flashcards. The effort felt pointless, but it stopped the tears. It rebuilt a tiny fraction of my shattered composure. I have no control over the school board. I have no control over the Steinmann family. I have control over my own

mind.

I pushed the wooden chair back. It scraped against the floorboards.

I needed a glass of water. My throat felt like sandpaper. I needed to wash the taste of defeat out of my mouth.

I walked out of the bedroom. I moved down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen.

The silence of the house felt different now. The initial shock faded, leaving a heavy, expectant tension in the air. The storm hovered right above the roof. The lightning struck the school this morning. The thunder rolled toward the East Side.

I stepped into the kitchen. I reached for a clean glass in the overhead cabinet.

The water from the faucet ran cold. I filled the glass to the brim. I took a long drink.

I turned the faucet off.

I leaned my hip against the counter. I stared at the chipped formica table. I pictured my mother sitting there yesterday, her face lined with deep exhaustion, locking the front door to protect our small sanctuary. She expected the administration to call. She did not expect

the immediate suspension.

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Chapter 181 Heavy Knocks At The Door

I needed to figure out how to tell her the news. I needed to plan the words. I needed to hand her the white envelope from the principal.

The thought felt impossible to bear.

I set the empty glass in the stainless steel sink.

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