Page 1 of My Ruthless Opponent

Chapter One

Iunlock the smart lock of my two-bedroom apartment with the key card and enter. The place is silent as usual.

I shrug out of the tuxedo suit jacket as I walk down the hallway. I am home after attending my good friend, Mason’s wedding.

Tossing the jacket on my way to the living room haphazardly on the floor, I reach for my silk bowtie. After untying it, I leave them hanging around my neck.

My feet halt. The oval mirror on the wall pulls my eyes toward it.

My body tightens at the reflection of my split lower lip.

Chills erupt over my skin as my eyes slide up from my lips.

Instead of seeing myself, I see a glimpse of a ten-year-old boy with a bruised face.

I feel the sharp claws of my past around my neck, choking me, making it impossible to draw another breath.

Tearing open a few buttons of my shirt, I cross the living room and head straight to the wet bar. Fetching a tumbler from the cabinet, I pour myself a single malt.

I step out on the balcony with my glass in hand and rest my forearms on the railing.

The darkness of the sky is lit by the skyscrapers of downtown Los Angeles.

As I take in the view from the thirtieth floor of my residential building, a sense of relief washes over me.

This spot always helps me whenever I struggle to push the rage and melancholic thoughts away.

I am not that helpless kid anymore. I am not. But the whispers in my ears sometimes won’t stop.

I breathe deeply and try to fill my lungs with the air of freedom. I am free.

But my mind is the one who makes me a prisoner to its negativity.

I finish the whiskey in healthy swigs. Feeling calmer as its warmth chases away the remnants of the darkness in my head that was trying to spill out.

The blood in my veins which was boiling a second ago has simmered down. But every fiber of my being is questioning my actions.

I; Raleigh Jackson, the man who is capable to take down anyone—no matter how built the other person is—let a Brit punch him tonight.

Nah. I am not claiming to be a thug. Nor am I hinting I look for fights every chance I get. Quite the contrary.

Violence is a subject I prefer not to touch. It hits too close to home. Any other day, I would’ve retaliated but today, I didn’t.

About a month ago, I met this girl named Rochelle at Mason’s engagement party. She is eighteen which makes me ten years older than her.

That day in the club, I sensed something between her and one of the guys there.

So, when I found Rochelle with tears in her eyes tonight, I knew something was wrong.

When she opened up about her recent breakup without disclosing his identity, I figured it had something to do with that same Brit guy named Alan who was hovering over Rochelle that entire night in the club.

She claimed that he didn’t love her. The absolute devastation etched on that girl’s face provoked me to do something impulsive.

Upon seeing Alan entering the banquet hall, I came up with a plan.

Jealousy is a powerful game that tests patience even of the most collected person. Jealousy is a disease with no cure. If you love someone, you can’t bear to even imagine them with someone who’s not you.

So, to prove her that Alan indeed loved her, I bent my head down to kiss her. More like pretended to. Because I see that girl as my sister.

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