It all started on move-in day, when my mom dropped me off at my dorm in a Lamborghini. The second my roommate found out she was the CEO of Hayes Industries, his whole attitude changed. “Ms. Hayes is that busy and you still made her drive you? Where’s your dad?” he asked. “I guess a family really does need a man in charge… Don’t worry. I’ll study up for a few days, and then I’ll take good care of you both!” I thought he was just being weird, so I brushed it off. “Yeah, you’re a real hero.” But then he actually started staying up all night, watching videos like, How to Marry into a Billionaire Family. He’d lecture me, “A man shouldn’t play so many video games! You have to act like the head of the house!” He even started calling himself my “stepfather” in front of everyone. “See his hat?” he’d say. “His mom and I picked it out for him. Of course, she also bought me a custom suit. She definitely spoils me more.” It all came to a head at the university’s Centennial Gala. He showed up in a designer suit and sat right down in the seat reserved for the Hayes Family. 1 Move-in day at Blackwood University, and my mother, Eleanor Hayes, decided on subtlety. Which is to say, she pulled up to the curb of my freshman dorm in a screaming yellow Lamborghini that probably cost more than the entire building. When my new roommate, Owen, saw it, his eyes practically popped out of his head. We’d barely introduced ourselves before he was pressed against the window. “Did you guys see that Lambo downstairs? I just looked it up—it’s a four-million-dollar car!” he announced to the room. I casually dropped my duffel bag by my bed. “Mom,” I said, turning to her, “didn’t you tell me you only paid three for it?” A brief, awkward smile flashed across her face. Just then, one of our family’s security detail, a man built like a refrigerator, stepped into the room. “Ms. Hayes, the board meeting is starting shortly.” Owen’s head snapped toward us, his eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. He scrambled over to my side. “Your mom is the Ms. Hayes? As in, Hayes Industries? That is so cool! How did she have time to drive you to campus? Where’s your dad?” Before I could form a single word, he had his phone out and was standing directly in front of my mother. “I’m Owen,” he said, his voice a little too eager. “You should add me on Instagram. That way, if Ethan needs anything, you can just ask me directly!” My mother, a woman who could make seasoned executives tremble, actually hesitated. I could see the refusal forming on her lips, but she’s always had a soft spot for not embarrassing students. With a strained politeness, she scanned his code. “Ethan, honey, I’ve got to get back to the office,” she said, turning to me. “Call me if you need anything.” Before I could reply, Owen jumped in again. “He will! And I’ll make sure he’s okay. You have a safe drive back to the city.” He added a little wave, a shy, almost coy smile on his face. “Don’t forget to eat dinner. You work too hard.” My mom let out a tight, strangled cough, turned on her heel, and was gone. As I started unpacking, I couldn’t help but wonder, are all college students this weirdly intense? The next thing I knew, my suitcase was on the floor, its contents spilled across the dusty linoleum. Owen had kicked it over. “So,” he said, his voice suddenly sharp. “Where’s my welcome gift? It’s customary to show respect to your elders.” I stared at him, completely thrown. I couldn’t tell if this was some bizarre, deadpan joke. When I didn’t move, he slapped me across the face. Not hard, but with enough sting to shock me. He put his hands on his hips, glaring. “Is that how you look at a parent? No respect at all!” he snapped. “From now on, I’m going to have to whip you into shape for your mother’s sake. Or you won’t be welcome in our home!” He was serious. Utterly, terrifyingly serious. A surge of rage shot through me. I stood up and shoved him, hard. He stumbled backward and fell to the floor. “Are you insane?” I yelled, my voice echoing in the small room. “They let psychopaths into Blackwood now? Get help!” The commotion drew a crowd. Students poked their heads in from the hallway, their eyes wide. Owen lay on the floor, his face a mask of pale, wounded innocence. “I know you don’t like me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “But I’m already trying so hard to be a good stepfather…” A collective gasp went through the onlookers. Their bewildered stares shifted from him to me. I felt like my head was going to explode. “My mom doesn’t even know you!” I shot back, my voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re just some psycho trying to marry into money!” Owen slowly picked himself up, pulling out his phone. He angled the screen toward the crowd. “Oh really? Take a look for yourselves! See if I know his mother or not!” he declared. “He’s just jealous. He thinks I’m stealing his mom’s love, so he’s trying to drive me away!” To my horror, people in the crowd started nodding, their expressions turning from confusion to contempt—aimed at me. I had no idea what he was showing them. I snatched the phone from his hand. He had changed my mother’s contact name. It now read: My Beautiful Wife I let out a laugh, a sharp, bitter sound. Before I could say a word, our Resident Advisor appeared, breaking up the crowd. “What’s going on here? You want a write-up on your first day? Get back to your rooms!” The crowd dispersed. Owen and I were left alone in the suffocating silence of our room. He immediately dissolved into tears, his body wracked with sobs. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” he choked out. “My reaction… it was unacceptable.” He took a shaky breath. “I grew up really poor. I was bullied all the time, and… the way you looked at me just now, it brought all of that back. I just… I lost control. I’m so sorry. If you’re still angry, you can hit me back. Please.” He started slapping his own face, hard, leaving red marks on his pale skin. Instinctively, I grabbed his hands to stop him. My anger deflated, replaced by a confusing wave of pity. He was clearly unhinged, but hearing his story… it sounded like he’d been shaped by a lifetime of pain. I sighed, letting go of him. “Forget it. I’m not angry anymore.” I looked him in the eye. “But you absolutely cannot call my mother your wife. That’s insane, Owen.” He wiped his tears, his lower lip still trembling. “My grandmother always told me, when you go to a new place, you have to find the most powerful person and get close to them. It’s the only way to keep from being a target.” He sniffled. “I thought if everyone knew I was connected to Ms. Hayes, they wouldn’t mess with me. I’m sorry…” It was the most twisted logic I’d ever heard, but his misery felt so genuine that I didn’t know how to argue. “That’s not how you do it,” I said, shaking my head. “Just… stop crying. Let’s finish unpacking.” He immediately sprang into action, not just unpacking his own things, but mine too. He made my bed, folded my clothes with military precision, and arranged my toiletries on my desk. I’d been so sheltered my whole life, I was honestly clueless about most of it. His help was, embarrassingly, a relief. “Hey, uh… thanks,” I mumbled. “I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow.” He gave me a sweet, radiant smile and pulled a lumpy, wax-paper-wrapped object from his bag. “This is a roll my grandmother baked. They’re the best. You should try one.” After the drama, I was starving. I took it and bit into it. It was surprisingly delicious. “Wow. Your grandma’s a hell of a baker. She could sell these.” I started to think that maybe Owen wasn’t so bad. Maybe he was just deeply insecure, a problem that college and a better environment could fix. Suddenly, he held up his phone. “Can we take a picture? I want to show my grandma I made my first friend in college!” he said, beaming. “And that he loves her baking! She’ll be so happy.” I played along, holding up the half-eaten roll and giving a peace sign. He snapped the photo and immediately started tapping away on his phone, a blissful smile spreading across his face. “Hey, let’s trade numbers,” he said. “I’ll send you the pic.” Seeing his phone reminded me I hadn’t even texted my mom to let her know I was settled. Just as I was thinking it, a message from her came through. [Mom]: Making friends already? I’m so proud of you, honey! Attached was a screenshot. It was a chat between her and Owen. He’d sent her pictures of my perfectly made bed, my organized closet, and the photo of us he’d just taken. [Owen]: Ethan’s doing great! All settled in and eating well! My mom had replied with two thumbs-up emojis. I thought it was a little weird, but also kind of sweet that he was trying to reassure her. A second later, I opened Instagram and saw Owen’s new post. The caption read: I’ll keep working hard on how to be a good stepdad, don’t you worry, honey! The son is all settled in at school~ The picture was the screenshot of his chat with my mom. Rage, white-hot and absolute, flooded my veins. I shoved my phone in his face. “What the hell is this? Delete it. Now!” He flinched, his eyes instantly welling up with tears. “I’m sorry! It was just for my grandma’s sake! So she wouldn’t worry! If you don’t like it, I’ll take it down right now!” He fumbled with his phone, tapping furiously. I refreshed my feed, and the post was gone. A knot of suspicion tightened in my gut. Something about him was fundamentally wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Don’t you ever post anything like that again,” I said, my voice low. “This is your last warning.” I went to take a shower, trying to wash the whole bizarre day off me. The next morning, Owen was back to being the perfect, considerate roommate. He’d even squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush for me. “Morning! Time to get up. We have orientation today.” His relentless cheerfulness was unsettling, but I didn’t know how to tell him to stop. As I was getting dressed, I couldn’t find the new pair of designer cargo pants I’d bought. “Hey, Owen, did you see a pair of white pants when you were folding my clothes yesterday?” He froze for a second. “Oh! The ones with all the chains on them? Yeah, those were a little… aggressive. Very street-style. I thought people might get the wrong impression, you know? Like you were in a gang or something. I threw them out.” He smiled helpfully. “You’re a good kid from a good family. You shouldn’t dress like a delinquent. People might think you have no upbringing.” I looked in my closet. It wasn’t just the cargo pants. Every single pair of pants that had any unique design element was gone. I fought down the urge to scream. I’d deal with him later. I pulled on a plain pair of jeans and headed to orientation. In the auditorium, a few classmates complimented the limited-edition baseball cap I was wearing. “Dude, that hat is sick! Is that the new release?” I smiled, about to answer, when Owen physically stepped in front of me, adopting the air of a proud parent. “It’s great, isn’t it?” he said with a knowing smile. “His mother and I picked it out for him when we were in Europe.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Of course, she also bought me a custom-tailored suit. Between you and me, I think she spoils me a little more.” My classmates just stared, their faces blank with confusion. That’s when it hit me. Owen wasn’t just weird or insecure. He was a genuine, five-alarm psychopath. My pity had been a mistake. “My mom did buy me this hat,” I said, my voice tight. “He had nothing to do with it. My mom doesn’t know him. Don’t listen to a word he says.” Owen just winked at the group. “He gets so embarrassed about me being younger. You know how kids are, so worried about their image.” He patted my shoulder. “Alright, alright, whatever you say, champ. Let’s go get some lunch.” The looks on my classmates’ faces were getting more and more complicated. I knew losing my temper now would only make me look worse. I’d settle this back at the dorm. But at lunch, he took all the broccoli off his tray and dumped it onto mine. “Your mom told me you’re a picky eater,” he announced to the table. “I’m here to make sure you eat your vegetables.” That was it. I snapped. I flipped my entire tray over, sending food scattering across the floor. I pointed a shaking finger at him. “What is wrong with you?” I screamed, the entire cafeteria falling silent. “Are you addicted to this? Do you really think you’re my father? My mother doesn’t know who you are! One more time, and I swear to God, I’m calling the cops and having you committed!” Everyone was staring. Owen looked terrified, his face pale. He trembled for a long moment, then his voice came out in a broken whisper. “I know… I know you don’t approve of us. But your mother and I… we’re in love.” He choked back a sob. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.” He turned and ran out of the cafeteria, crying. Whispers erupted all around me. I pulled out my phone, ready to call my mom and tell her everything, when a notification from the Blackwood University Confessions page popped up. [Post]: Whose insane sports car was parked outside the freshman dorms yesterday? That thing was beautiful! The attached photo was of my mom’s Lamborghini. And the top comment, with over a hundred likes, was from Owen. [Owen_B]: That’s my wife’s car! She paid over four million for it and tried to tell me it was only three. But what can I say? She’s the one in charge of the money in our house. Guess I’m just a kept man, haha! I was shaking with so much rage I could barely see straight. This psycho. This absolute lunatic. Tomorrow was the university’s Centennial Gala. My mother, a distinguished alumna, was the keynote speaker. Tomorrow, I would have her set the record straight in front of everyone. I would watch his fantasy world burn to the ground. I was too furious to eat. Back in the dorm, I was about to call my mom when a video call from her came through. “Ethan,” she said, her expression serious. “Are you fighting with your roommate?” I was baffled. How could she know already? “How did you hear about that?” Her face tightened with embarrassment as she shifted the camera. My jaw dropped. The background wasn’t her office. It was the main floor of Hayes Industries. And Owen was there, strolling around like he owned the place, pointing and directing employees. He was acting like the CEO. “Owen? He’s insane! Mom, don’t listen to a word he says!” I sputtered. “He’s been telling everyone at school that you’re his wife and he’s my stepfather! The whole campus is talking about it! You have to clear this up at the gala tomorrow, or my entire college experience is over!” I was so frantic I could barely get the words out. My mom looked completely stunned. “My God. What is wrong with these kids today?” she murmured. “I’ll have security send him back to campus. And yes, we will clear this up tomorrow.” After we hung up, I paced the room, my mind racing with all the ways I was going to destroy Owen when he got back. A few minutes later, I heard two students whispering as they walked past my door. “That’s the room. The one with the son and the stepfather. It’s so creepy.” “I know, right? The lives of the super-rich are messed up.” I stormed out into the hall. “Who told you he’s my stepfather? He’s lying!” One of them just scoffed and held up his phone. “Your family is something else. Your mom has a thing for younger guys, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.” I looked at the screen. It was Owen’s Instagram feed. He’d posted a new selfie from inside my mom’s office, along with a short video of him ordering her employees around. [Caption]: Just checking in on my wife’s empire. Making sure the staff knows who the new boss is! The post before that was a picture of me sleeping, clearly taken the night before. [Caption]: Long day for the boy. Out like a light. And the one before that? The screenshot of his chat with my mom. [Caption]: Son is all settled in at school. I’ve got everything under control, honey~ He never deleted anything. He just blocked me. A cold, hard fury settled deep in my bones. I wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow. The second he walked through that door, I was going to tear him apart. I didn’t care if I got expelled. But he never came back. Not all night. He was scared to face me. The next day, the Centennial Gala was packed. Everyone who was anyone in the city was there. My mom arrived looking like a goddess in a custom-tailored pantsuit. She was in her forties but had the poise and physique of a woman half her age, thanks to a lifelong devotion to yoga and kicking ass in the boardroom. “Our seats are in the front row,” she told me. “I had them reserve a spot for honorary alumni family.” I nodded and followed her toward the stage. And then I saw it. A sight so horrifying it made the world go dark at the edges. There, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, sitting smugly in the chair labeled Hayes Family, was Owen.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385471", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel