The Rival I Should Never Love

The red light on my camera was blinking, broadcasting my heart breaking to forty thousand people in real time. ​“We’re live in three, two...” ​My producer’s voice cut through my earpiece, but I wasn’t looking at the teleprompter. I was staring through the c***k of the VIP locker room door, where my boyfriend—Empire State’s golden-boy team captain, Ethan Cole—had his hands buried in the hair of Nora Carpenter. ​The heiress was pinned against the tactical whiteboard, her designer lipstick smeared across his jawline. ​“Ethan, hurry,” Nora gasped, her laugh dripping with venomous amusement. “Your little sports influencer girlfriend is right outside taking pre-game footage.” ​“Let her record,” Ethan growled, pulling her back into a bruising kiss. “Seraphine only exists to polish my image anyway. She doesn’t own me.” ​My fingers tightened around my high-definition camera until the plastic casing groaned under the pressure. Three years. Three years of writing his press releases, managing his brand, hiding his late-night benders, and holding his hand through every career threat. ​I didn't cry. I didn't freeze. The blood in my veins turned straight to ice. ​I stepped away from the door, shoved my producer out of the way, and flipped my wireless microphone onto maximum gain. ​“Seraphine? What are you doing? We go live in ten seconds!” my assistant panicked, reaching for my arm. ​I kicked the VIP locker room door wide open. ​The heavy wood slammed against the concrete wall like a gunshot, echoing down the high-tension tunnel. Ethan jerked back, his jersey half-unbuttoned, while Nora calmly wiped her mouth, a smug, cat-like grin spreading across her polished face. ​“Seraphine—” Ethan’s face went pale, his calculated, golden-boy charm instantly shattering. “Wait. It’s not what it looks like—” ​“Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like,” I said, stepping directly into his personal space. ​Before he could raise a hand or formulate another calculated lie, I threw my entire body weight into a sharp, cracking backhand across his face. ​CRACK. ​The impact vibrated up my arm. Ethan’s head snapped to the side, a red handprint instantly blooming over his cheekbone. Nora gasped, her smug expression finally breaking into shock. ​“That’s for three years of my life wasted on a coward,” I whispered, my voice carrying with lethal clarity. ​Ethan lunged forward, his eyes burning with sudden humiliation, his hands reaching to grab my wrists. “You b***h—do you have any idea what you just did to my career right before kickoff?!” ​“I didn't just ruin your career, Ethan,” I said, raising my phone screen to his face, where my live stream was still running, the comment section moving so fast the text was a blur. “I broadcasted it.” ​I spun on my heel, leaving him stranded in the middle of his own ruined empire. ​Rage and adrenaline blinded me as I bolted down the narrow, rain-drenched stadium tunnel. The roaring crowd above sounded like thunder, but all I could hear was the frantic pounding of my own pulse. I wasn't looking where I was going—I just needed to put distance between myself and the betrayal. ​I turned the corner toward the visiting team's entrance at full speed and slammed straight into a wall of solid steel. ​The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. My camera slipped from my grip, shattering against the concrete floor. Strong, calloused hands caught me by the waist before I hit the ground, halting my fall with effortless, terrifying force. ​“Watch it,” a low, gravelly voice rasped above me. ​I whipped my head up, my chest heaving. ​Standing over me was Kaiden Black. ​He was wearing the black-and-crimson Pacific Coast jersey, his towering six-foot-three frame blotting out the stadium lights above us. Rainwater dripped from his dark, messy hair down the sharp contour of his jawline. But it was his eyes that pinned me to the spot—piercing, ice-cold green, completely devoid of fear or warmth. ​The man accused of manslaughter. The rival player who had spent two years in state penitentiary. The monster every scout on the East Coast was terrified to recruit. ​“You’re bleeding, influencer,” Kaiden said, his thumb brushing a drop of crimson from my lip where Ethan's belt buckle had grazed me. He didn't pull his hand away. ​Before I could answer, heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway behind us. ​“Seraphine!” Ethan shouted, bursting around the corner, his jersey completely disheveled, his face twisted in pure fury. He froze the moment he saw who was holding me. “Get your filthy, ex-con hands off my girl, Black.” ​Kaiden didn't flinch. He slowly shifted his weight, pulling me slightly behind his massive shoulder, shielding me entirely from Ethan's sight. ​“Your girl?” Kaiden asked, his voice dropping into a deadly, dangerous register as he turned his sharp green eyes toward my ex. “Looks to me like she belongs to whoever she wants. And right now, Cole... she’s standing with me