Page 8 of My Ruthless Neighbor

She sits at my side of the table.

“Is there something you need to say to me?”

She shakes her head.

My mouth curves into a smile. “Even though you don’t use words, I see the stiffness in your body language.”

Her eyes whip up. “It’s nothin—”

She stops herself before she could lie. She knows better. When she goes to talk, I cut her off with a hand. “If you or anyone of my employees for that matter have any questions or doubts, I would love it if you’d talk to me.”

“Archer…”

“I don’t know who that girl is who claims to be my friend. But let me tell you this. I don’t support nepotism or partiality. Nor do I encourage it. You should know better than to cast me doubtful looks considering the years you have worked for me, no?”

She gives me a sheepish smile. “Forgive me, boss.”

“Apology accepted. Now let’s get this party started.”

“Okay.” She nods and begins to type on her phone, assuming to usher the first applicant in.

I rub my chin. “Janet… hold up.”

She looks at me. “What’s up?”

“Ask them to send her in first.”

She frowns. “Who?”

I smile darkly. “My friend. Who else?”

Chapter Three

They say childhood shapes individuals’ adulthood. What we are now is the product of the experiences we had when we were young. A child’s mind is like clay in the hands of parents. They have complete control in molding them.

I had no one to mold me. When I was placed in a foster home, I came face to face with reality.

To escape hell, I landed on something much worse. Soon I realized, that no one would help me mold my future. I’ll have to do it myself.

I am proud of my handiwork. Instead of blaming God, I set to make my life better since I was young. Just because I have been dealt a crappy hand, doesn’t mean I can’t bluff my way out of it.

Yes, I bluff. I lie. I deceive. I have been doing it for survival for as long as I can remember. Funny thing is, there was no one to reprimand me. No one to clutch my hand and guide me to the right path.

Raleigh and I were with a foster family for over a decade. The foster parents were good people. Only on the outside, though. Only for show.

During inspections, they would act as the most doting guardians and as soon as it was over, they would morph into their true evil selves.

When they used to make us sleep on empty stomachs, I used to steal food. It started out as a necessity. I lied and stealth for me and the other kids.

And I used to get caught. Often. Mrs. Samson, my foster mother would often discipline me by spanking or even punching me in the face. Did that deter me? No. Because other foster kids in that house relied on me.

And while everyone relied on me,Iused to rely on one boy. Damian. Who was older than me and Raleigh and was also our savior.

He was adopted and that left us in a vulnerable position. Because we never fought back. He did. When we kids took the beatings, he fought back with all his might.

He was not stronger by his physique. But his will to survive was. Every kid envied him. And like two lost puppies, Raleigh and I used to follow him around.

He was our shield. And when he was gone, the abuse became worse.

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