How had an 17-year-old grown up so fast? Standing at 1.8 meters tall, with a sharp tongue that wouldn’t quit, he managed to push every button I had. It frustrated me, but I couldn’t understand why an 17-year-old would treat me like this. What was I missing?

I spent the whole night trying to figure it out but came up empty-handed. I must be approaching this all wrong.

The next morning, determined to reach him with warmth and patience, I woke up early to make breakfast.

An hour later, I knocked on his door.

“Leo, come out for breakfast, you’re going to be late,” I said, my voice gentle, filled with hope.

The door opened, and there he was—his hair a mess, looking groggy and irritated.

“What do you want this early in the morning?” he groaned, his voice rough from just waking up.

“I made breakfast. Come eat after you freshen up. I’ll drive you to school once you’re ready,” I offered with a smile, hoping he’d soften.

“I’m not eating,” he said, dismissing me and turning back into his room.

“Not eating? At your age, you need to eat properly. You’re still growing. You shouldn’t skip meals. You don’t need to lose weight either, you’re perfect,” I rambled, trailing behind him into his room.

“So annoying,” he muttered.

Leo walked over to the bed and, with his back to me, pulled off his T-shirt with one hand. I couldn’t help but notice the smooth, toned muscles of his back. It was a lean, athletic build, the kind that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Want to look some more?” Leo teased, his voice low and mocking.

I was caught off guard by his boldness, my face flushed with embarrassment.

“I… I… I’ll go check if the milk’s been heated yet,” I stammered, my mind racing as I turned on my heel and hurried out of the room.

Back in the kitchen, I was filled with regret.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen a young man before, so why did my heart flutter at the sight of a brat? What was so appealing about a teenager like him? He wasn’t even remotely charming…

I carried the milk out and waited for him in the dining room.

Ten minutes later, he came downstairs, shot me a quick look, and then made a beeline for the door.

Clearly, he had no intention of eating.

“Leo, I made breakfast. Aren’t you eating?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“Why would I eat?” he retorted, not bothering to look back.

“I woke up at five to make this for you. Don’t you think it’s a little rude?” I stood up, my patience thinning.

“Who asked you to cook?” he shot back, his defiance evident.

“Your father entrusted me to take care of you, so I have to make sure you’re fed,” I said, trying to assert myself.

“Who agreed to that?”

He stopped the argument, grabbed his bag with one hand, slipped into his sneakers, and kicked the door open.

“Go live with whoever agreed to that. In your dreams if you think I’ll accept it.”

The sound of the door slamming was like a slap to my face, and I stood there, fuming, barely holding back the anger bubbling inside.

“You! You’re just impossible!” I shouted, my temper finally exploding.

He was about to leave, but as if something crossed his mind, he turned back and handed my carefully prepared breakfast to the golden retriever outside the door.

“If you want to play mother, maybe the dog could use it,” he said, his tone cold.

I didn’t even have a chance to get angry before he shot me one last glance, got into his car, and drove off to school. I stood there, feeling a mix of frustration and something inexplicable that twisted in my chest.

The growing rift between Leo and me was starting to drive me crazy.

One moment, I considered just giving up and letting him be. The next moment, I thought about the 500 million. Maybe I could endure this for a little longer.

So, I started buying every parenting book I could find on a popular shopping site.

After reading for a whole day, my resolve was stronger than before.

According to the books, Leo’s behavior was a classic case of “Adolescent Syndrome.” In simpler terms, he was just rebelling.

I couldn’t continue to fight him directly. I had to try a different approach—become more patient and gentle.

That evening, I called the driver to check if Leo had returned home, only to find out that he had gone to a bar.

Why would a high schooler go to a bar? That was so dangerous!

I hesitated for a moment, quickly changed into something more presentable, added some makeup, and set off in pursuit.

I arrived at the bar and immediately saw Leo surrounded by a group of glamorous girls all vying to feed him fruit.

A young boy out alone in such a place was a recipe for trouble.

I was about to intervene when I overheard his friends talking.

“Leo, I heard your father found a new wife, and she’s not much older than you. She’s also pretty attractive.”

“Do you have a photo? I could use a stepmother like that.”

“Quit watching so many dramas.”

“Shut up,” Leo snapped, and his friends quickly fell silent, looking somewhat afraid of him.

Leo lifted his head, and the indifference in his eyes hit me like a cold wave.

I stood there, unsure whether to stay or leave, feeling awkward and out of place.

But then I gathered my courage and walked over to him.

“Who’s she?” one of his friends asked curiously.

“Leo, is she your stepmother? She’s hot…”

“Hot?” I thought, slightly taken aback by their words. At least, it was a compliment, though I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Hello, I’m… his step… caretaker,” I stammered, managing to force a weak smile.

“So, Leo, is this your stepmother?”

“Holy crap,” one of them exclaimed, and the group burst into loud laughter, making me feel both embarrassed and slightly self-conscious.

I glanced at Leo, but he had already turned his attention back to his drink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked coldly, without looking at me.

“Of course, I came because I was worried about you. I’m here to take you home,” I said, trying to sound calm.

“Go back by yourself if you want to.” His eyes were sharp as he glared at me before returning to his drink.

“Hey, isn’t it a little early for you to leave already? Come join us for a bit.”

“Yeah, what would you like to drink? I’ll order it for you.”

Several of the guys grabbed my arms, refusing to let me go.

“If I sit here, I won’t ruin your fun, will I?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable with the situation.

“Of course not, sit next to me,” the guy next to me said, pulling me down beside him.

I looked up at Leo, but he finished his drink, stood up, and muttered, “You guys are really insane.”

He turned and walked off, disappearing into the crowd without another word.

“Look at this, you’ve gone and made a mess. Getting too close to Leo’s girl. Now he’s upset,” one of his friends said, lightly bumping another on the head.

“I was just… trying to lighten the mood,” the boy replied, his face showing a bit of hurt.

I watched Leo’s figure retreating, a deep sigh escaping me.

He was angry again. It seemed like he always got upset every time he saw me.

“He went to the bathroom. What do you want to drink?” one of the boys asked me.

“Watermelon juice,” I replied, my mind still reeling.