The Boy I Raised Now Owns Me

Start Reading

Three months after I married the wealthy Eleanor, she passed away.

She left behind a vast fortune and a rebellious teenage son.

Caleb was volatile and sullen, filled with an intense hatred for me, his stepfather.

To force me out, he'd put cleaner in my food, scatter cockroaches on my bedhe stopped at nothing.

But I didn't care. I continued to dutifully look after him.

Finally, when Caleb turned eighteen, I had fulfilled his mother's dying wish. I packed my things, ready to leave.

But Caleb, eyes red, tackled me onto the bed.

"Didn't you promise my mom you'd always take care of me?"

He bit open a condom wrapper with his teeth, then pulled my legs up to rest on his waist.

"Physical care counts too, doesn't it?"

The first time I met Caleb,

he was wearing a school uniform, lounging on the couch, listening to his mother introduce me.

When he heard we were married, Caleb let out a dismissive scoff.

His dark eyes, framed by messy hair, burned with intense disgust, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Stepparent? A stepfather only seven years older than me?"

His challenging tone clearly embarrassed his mother.

I tried to smooth things over:

"Don't worry about titles, you can call me whatever you like."

Kids his age are often rebellious and sharp-tongued, and Caleb was notoriously difficult.

"Anything?" Caleb jutted out his jaw, a cocky grin on his face. "Then I'll call you a bastard."

That day, Caleb infuriated his mother so much she ended up in the hospital.

After that, he began to act.

He played the part of a dutiful son in front of his mother, seemingly getting along with me.

But when we were alone, he revealed the viciousness of a cornered animal.

Caleb's first 'welcome gift' to me came after his mother was discharged.

At the dinner table, Caleb looked at me, eyes sparkling with feigned expectation. "Why aren't you eating?"

I stirred my spoon in the soup. A pungent smell wafted from it, a clear sign it had been "enhanced."

Seeing I still didn't move, his expression instantly softened into a pitiful pout.

"Mom, does he hate me? He won't even eat the soup I served."

"It's okay, we're not real father and son anyway. It's normal for him not to like me."

His mother quickly put an arm around him, trying to comfort him.

Where his mother couldn't see, Caleb's eyes glinted sharply, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips.

I feigned illness, claiming I wasn't feeling well enough to eat, and went hungry that entire night.

Later, in the middle of the night, when I went downstairs to the kitchen for food, I ran into Caleb.

He casually leaned over, lighting a cigarette off the stove burner, then stood lazily, leaning against the counter.

"Hungry?"

The cigarette flickered between his fingers, his face obscured by the smoke, making him hard to discern.

Just as I was about to leave, he suddenly grabbed my collar, pulling me back.

We were inches apart.

Caleb suddenly laughed, blowing a puff of smoke directly into my face.

His dark pupils were filled with malice.

"Get out now, or I'll make your life a living hell."

I remained silent for a moment.

Then I peeled his fingers off me.

I plucked the cigarette from his hand and crushed it in the sink.

"Don't let your mom find out. She'd be upset."

Caleb froze, surprised by my words.

As I started to walk upstairs, Caleb's angry voice followed me.

"Don't pretend like you care about my mom, you fake!"

"You just finished grad school and married into my family. It's obviously for the money, isn't it?"

"I'll give you money. Just stay away from my mom!"

The impatient teen couldn't hide his true feelings; his real intentions came spilling out in just a few sentences.

But before Caleb could pull off any more stunts to force me out, his mother became seriously ill and was hospitalized.

Barely a month later, she passed away.

When I found Caleb,

the rain poured down, but he sat motionless at his parents' grave, looking like a lost puppy.

I held the umbrella over his head.

"Come on, let's go home."

Caleb snapped back to reality as if waking from a trance.

He looked up at me, his dark eyes devoid of any emotion.

"Home? Do I even have a home anymore?"

That day, I forcibly carried Caleb home. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything for three days.

On my shoulder, he went from cursing me loudly to quietly shedding tears.

Back home,

I brewed a strong mug of ginger tea and offered it to Caleb.

Perhaps it was embarrassment from having cried earlier.

He awkwardly turned his face away, refusing to look at me.

Out of nowhere, he blurted out:

"Why haven't you left yet?"

I sat on the sofa, carefully cleaning a framed photo of his mother.

Seeing I didn't respond,

after a long silence, he suddenly stood up and smashed the bowl on the floor.

"My mom is dead! Why aren't you gone yet?!"

I carefully placed the photo back before looking at him.

"I'll take care of you until you're an adult."

Caleb scoffed.

"Are you drunk? You really think you can be my dad?"

Leaving an enraged Caleb, I went upstairs alone.

"Your mother and I signed an agreement. I only get the inheritance if I care for you until you're an adult."

From that day on, Caleb and I settled into an unnervingly strange peace.

After accepting the reality that both his parents were gone,

he dedicated all his energy to spite me, determined to make me leave.

Because I told Caleb he needed to focus on his studies,

he'd skip school every day to hang out at the local gaming cafe.

After several days of this, I finally lost my patience.

Inside the gaming cafe, cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air.

Caleb was gaming with his friends online, headphones on. Judging by the screen, their game wasn't going so well.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he impatiently swore under his breath.

He turned, saw me, and raised an eyebrow.

"Caleb, what the hell? Why'd you go AFK?"

The punk next to him yelled in frustration, his character's health bar bottomed out.

Caleb looked completely innocent, pointing at me.

"He won't let me play."

The punk shot me a dirty look, then shoved me roughly.

"Who the hell are you? Looking for a fight?"

Immediately, a few of his punk friends gathered around, their eyes narrowed menacingly.

I pulled up the nearest chair and sat down.

"Want to make a bet?"

"One game. If I win, you guys have to beat Caleb up every time you see him here, so he won't dare step foot in this place again."

The punk's eyes lit up. "What if you lose?"

I tossed a stack of a thousand dollars onto the table.

"If I lose, consider it on me for your games."

In the end, they put forward Caleb, who was supposedly the best among them, to compete against me.

Caleb raised an eyebrow, confidently launching the game.

He thought he'd completely crush me, but he was shocked when I landed headshot after headshot.

By the end of the game, Caleb's face was as dark as a storm cloud.

I couldn't help but laugh.

He had no idea that back in college, to earn money for living expenses, I'd been a professional booster for four years.

A few kids gathered around me, excitedly begging me to help them rank up.

The punk leader enthusiastically clapped Caleb on the back.

"Is he your brother? He's amazing! You should get him to help us out!"

Caleb sat there, stone-faced, not saying a word.

Seeing him so deflated, my mood brightened.

"I won. You guys have to uphold your end of the bet."

The punk glanced at Caleb but started to backtrack.

"No way, Caleb's my buddy. He covers all our internet fees. We've got a bro code!"

The group huddled around Caleb, spouting their so-called loyalty.

Caleb, seated on the chair, looked at me with a fake smile. "You really think you can control me?"

At that, the kids all started laughing, seemingly mocking my overconfidence.

But I didn't care. I just glanced at my watch.

Then I flashed Caleb a big smile.

"Technically, I can't. But right now, principles are calling."

As soon as I finished speaking, police cars swarmed outside, sirens blaring.

Operating a gaming cafe and letting minors in during school hours is a big no-no, and the owner could get fined.

Before the police could even come upstairs, the manager, looking stressed, started herding them out.

"What did you guys do to get the cops here?! Don't you dare come back!"

Once we were in the car, Caleb coldly fastened his seatbelt.

"You'd already called the police, hadn't you? Why bother with the bet then? Just to stall for time?"

My mood was excellent as I dropped Caleb off at the school gates.

As he got out of the car, I told him:

"No. I just genuinely wanted to completely crush you in a game."

Caleb glared at me, his fists clenched. One foot was already out of the car when he heard my parting words.

"Caleb, I have to say, your gaming skills are just like you: a total scrub."

Leaving a fuming Caleb behind, I drove off.

From that day on, Caleb never skipped class to go to a gaming cafe again.

Perhaps it was because of my "discipline" that day.

Or perhaps it was because I'd conveniently donated to the school's updated security system.

Another time,

I pulled back my covers, ready for bed.

Hundreds of cockroaches scattered, swarming off my bed.

Caleb leaned in the doorway, watching the spectacular scene, a smile playing on his lips.

"Oh dear, how are you going to sleep now?"

Looking at his malicious grin,

I walked out of the room, only to find all the other rooms in the villa were locked.

"The news says there's been a lot of burglaries lately. I didn't feel safe, so I locked them all up."

Caleb followed behind me, carrying a cup of hot milk, explaining slowly.

I went to the living room, planning to spend the night on the sofa.

But Caleb suddenly, like his hands suddenly failed him, dumped the hot milk all over the sofa.

Then he looked at me with an innocent expression.

"Oops, my hand slipped."

Seeing me look at him, Caleb struggled to suppress his laughter.

"Well, looks like you have nowhere to sleep now. But there's an unlocked storage room downstairs, you could go..."

But before he could finish, I walked straight to his room.

I entered, collapsed onto Caleb's bed, and immediately fell asleep.

He stood by the bed, fuming.

"Get up! You're not sleeping in my bed!"

I burrowed deeper into the covers.

"My bad, my foot slipped."

His plan backfired spectacularly. Caleb angrily tugged at me, trying to make me get up.

"If you sleep in my bed, where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Well, then it looks like you'll have to make do with the storage room for the night."

"......"

No matter how much Caleb cursed at me, I remained unmoving.

Eventually, in the middle of the night, Caleb grew tired of yelling. He sat on the edge of the bed and had a breakdown for a bit.

I knew Caleb struggled with sleeping in unfamiliar beds.

He agonized for a long time, then threw back the covers and lay down beside me.

"This is my bed! Why shouldn't I sleep in it!"

He unceremoniously kicked me.

Seeing I still didn't stir, Caleb finally succumbed to sleepiness.

The next morning, I woke up to find Caleb wrapped around me like an octopus.

I have a habit of hogging the covers when I sleep, so he must have gotten cold in the middle of the night.

I stretched and got out of bed, preparing breakfast for Caleb.

Caleb ate with a scowl, clearly having not slept well.

I considerately served him a bowl of porridge.

He gave me a cold glance, then sniffed it.

I leaned back in my chair and smiled. "I'm not like you, using childish tricks."

After confirming there was no strange odor, Caleb took a spoonful of porridge, ignoring me completely.

Once I was sure he'd eaten, I started to serve myself.

The first spoonful I scooped up contained a large cockroach carcass.

Caleb happened to see it.

Caleb's expression gradually froze, then cracked.

He turned and rushed into the bathroom, throwing up violently.

I leaned against the bathroom doorway, kindly explaining.

"There were so many cockroaches last night. A few probably made their way into the kitchen."

"But don't feel too bad. Just think of it as extra protein."

Clutching the toilet, Caleb vomited for a long time, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed.

He shot me a furious glare, deliberately bumping my shoulder as he stormed past me.

He then got into the car waiting outside and left for school.

By noon, I suddenly received a call from the school.

The homeroom teacher's voice was anxious on the phone.

She said Caleb had gotten into a fight in class and split a kid's head open.

By the time I arrived at the school, the teacher had already given Caleb a severe scolding.

The other child, his head bandaged, stood behind his parents, looking smugly at Caleb.

"He's an ill-mannered brat, clearly with no one teaching him right from wrong, hitting my son like that!"

"And to think such an uncultured student is allowed to attend this school?"

The opposing parent was aggressively demanding.

Caleb remained silent throughout.

The teacher tried to defend him but was quickly silenced by their aggression.

Upon seeing me, she looked at me like I was her last hope.

"You're Caleb's......"

But when it came to the title, she hesitated.

I looked to be in my late twenties, not much like an elder, yet Caleb had no siblings.

As I stepped into the room, Caleb lazily looked up at me.

He stared intently, a playful glint in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

"This is my...... stepfather."

Everyone's expression changed upon hearing that.

Scrutinizing, mocking stares enveloped me.

Caleb maintained his lazy smile.

Clearly, this was his revenge, willing to even hurt himself to spite me.

"Yes, I'm Caleb's stepfather," I introduced myself directly. "Regarding Caleb hitting someone, we need to know why."

The father opposite snorted. "What reason could there be? With Caleb's upbringing, he's capable of anything."

Caleb clicked his tongue against his cheek and smirked.

He looked as if he didn't care what anyone said.

But I knew he did. He cared about people's love and affection, and he minded being blamed or insulted.

"But from what I understand, that's not right."

I looked directly at the injured child. "You know very well why Caleb hit you, don't you?"

The child was so scared by my gaze that he hid behind his parents.

"Before I came, I already checked the school security footage. Your child was verbally abusing Caleb first!"

"Of course, hitting someone is wrong no matter what. I hope both children can apologize to each other, and I will cover all of your child's medical expenses and damages."

Hearing "medical expenses and damages," the other parents' attitude softened, and his parent's tone immediately softened, eager to settle.

"Actually, boys will be boys. Fights are normal, it's not a big deal."

He nudged his son, who reluctantly lowered his head to apologize to Caleb.

Caleb, meanwhile, remained propped against the table, his cap pulled down low, completely still.

"Caleb, apologize."

He suddenly looked up at me, his gaze intense. "Why do you think I should listen to you?"

He dropped his usual playful smile, stubbornly refusing to bow his head.

After a long moment, I bent down and bowed to the child.

"I apologize. I apologize on Caleb's behalf for hitting you."

Caleb's body, which had been leaning against the table, slowly straightened.

He looked at me with a strange expression.

He seemed surprised that I would humble myself and apologize for him.

By now, the office doorway was crowded with students eager to watch the show.

I spoke each word clearly:

"Caleb is not a child without guidance or parents. He has me."

"If anyone dares to bully Caleb again, then I apologize, but I will deal with it in my own way. Feel free to test me."

On the way home, he suddenly spoke.

"Why?"

The question came out of nowhere, but I understood what he meant.

"A stepfather is still a father. I promised your mother I would take good care of you."

Caleb snorted, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes, resting.

When we got home, several extra cars were parked in the garage.

As we approached the front door, we saw a group of people lounging on the sofa.

Seeing Caleb, they enthusiastically greeted him.

"Caleb, Uncle Mark missed you so much!"

Faced with Caleb's indifference, Uncle Mark wasn't annoyed, still smiling broadly.

"I heard about your mother's passing. How will a child like you manage? Come live with your Uncle Mark."

As soon as he finished speaking, another person grabbed Caleb's arm.

"Caleb's last name is Smith. He's our family. Why should he go with you?"