This time, though, they waited a long while.

A notification suddenly popped up on my phone—Margot's personal account, of all things.

I'd never once looked at it.

But this time, for some reason, I tapped in as if pulled by some invisible hand.

My hands started shaking, and I couldn't stop them.

So that was it. Every time Rufus had stood me up for meeting my parents, it had never been because of team business.

The time he said he had to meet a sponsor, he was out shopping for clothes with Margot.

The time he said there was an emergency meeting, he was taking Margot to Disney to unwind.

The day he said something had gone wrong with the training data—

In the photo, he was seated at Margot's family dinner table, eating with her parents.

Margot leaned against him, smiling sweetly, and the comments were all teasing: "Future son-in-law," "When's the wedding?"

And Rufus had never said a word to set anyone straight. He'd even gone through and liked Margot's posts, one by one.

My breath tightened, bit by bit, until I scrolled to the most recent post.

It was a close-up of a racing bike.

I recognized it in a heartbeat. It was my car.

Margot's caption read:

【He said he wanted to give me a special gift for my zodiac year.】

【Starting today, this team's crown jewel, "Promise," is officially renamed "Little Margot."】

I stared at that photo, unblinking.

In it, the "Promise" that Rufus had once carved into the bike with his own hands had been ground clean off.

In its place was a brand-new little-bell design.

I finally understood. Handing my car to Margot wasn't a last-minute decision, and neither was making me run interference for her.

He'd planned all of this long ago.

I lifted my head, held the phone out in front of Rufus, and asked, my voice tight:

"How do you explain this?"

Rufus glanced at the screen without so much as raising his eyelids and said flatly:

"It's just an activity after the rookie's qualifying race. Christine, throw a tantrum if you want, but don't go spreading filthy rumors about a young girl."

I kept my eyes on him and pressed:

"And the car? Why was my name ground off?"

Rufus finally looked up at me.

There wasn't a flicker of guilt on his face. If anything, he was calm, almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Christine, you're thirty already. Other teams would've cut you long ago. I'm the one who kept protecting you, the only reason you've held onto your starting seat."

My whole body went rigid.

But Rufus seemed completely oblivious to the look on my face.

"You're getting married next year. Sooner or later you'll be going back to family life. This car was always meant to go to a newcomer. The race is the perfect chance to make Margot a name for herself. What's the problem with that?"

"Christine, be reasonable. Don't make a scene and embarrass everyone."

All at once, I went completely calm.

I looked at him and gave a small nod.

"Understood."

With that, I pushed my car toward the track.

Rufus visibly relaxed, certain I'd finally caved.

But what he didn't know was this:

A moment ago, when Jim James had messaged to ask if I'd made up my mind, I'd already sent back a single word.

"Fine."

When I rolled my bike out onto the starting grid, the entire arena erupted in an instant.

Countless spectators shot to their feet.

"What's going on?! Why isn't Christine in the starting lineup?!"

"Isn't that her championship car?! How does some rookie get to ride it?!"

"They put the five-time champion on a reject bike and a rookie on the championship car—has the team lost its mind?!"

Some even shouted toward the team in fury:

"Give Christine her car back!"

But no one paid them any attention.

The starting gun cracked, and every car launched forward at once.

The roar of the engines swept across the entire arena in a heartbeat.

The old bike was far more savage than the championship car.

The engine temperature climbed fast, the heat searing through the frame and into my thighs.

But it was like I couldn't feel the pain at all.

Only one thought was left in my head.

Run. Run for everything I had.

One curve after another fell away behind me.

The tires skimmed the rock face, the bike leaning to its absolute limit.

The commentator's voice cracked with excitement in my ears.

"Christine is charging back like a madwoman!"

"And she's riding the old model, the one that got phased out years ago!"

"My God! She's already broken into the top five!"

"Second place! Christine has taken second place!"

And on the other side,

Margot, riding my championship car, kept falling back.

She'd started out holding the front of the pack steady.

But as the race wore on,

Fifth.

Seventh.

She slid into the middle of the field fast.

A reporter's shocked cry even came through the comms channel:

"Margot's crying!"

"She's riding and sobbing at the same time!"

"The pressure's clearly gotten to her!"

I didn't pay any of it a shred of attention. All I saw was the tail of the leader's bike ahead.

One last long climb.

And I'd have the pass.

That was when it happened.

Rufus's voice came through the earpiece, fury barely held back.

"Christine, are you done throwing your tantrum?"

"Slow down. Now."

"Drop out of the lead group."

"Get up there and break the wind for Margot."

I gripped the handlebars.

My voice came out ice-cold:

"No."

The earpiece went silent for a beat.

Then Rufus's voice dropped to absolute zero.

"Christine."

"Don't forget you still belong to this team. If you don't follow orders, I will fire you, and I mean it! You'll never set foot in this industry again, and you'll be buried under millions in penalty fees!"

"And don't you forget our engagement! Keep pulling this stunt on me, and I'll seriously reconsider whether we get married at all!"

I locked my eyes on the leader, closer and closer now, and spoke calmly:

"I already told you."

"I don't want the team."

"And I don't want you."

"Rufus."

"You can't threaten me."

"My glory is mine to protect."

The other end of the line went quiet for a few seconds.

Rufus didn't explode. If anything, his voice turned terrifyingly calm.

"Christine, you're going to regret this."

My heart dropped like a stone.

The next second,

the bike began to shudder violently.

The steering started swinging wild.

The whole machine whipped left and right like it had lost all control.

The color drained from my face,

and one horrifying thought slammed into my mind.

The bike had been tampered with.

I fought the steering with everything I had, struggling to hold the bike steady,

throwing my life on the line, hurling myself toward the finish,

even if it killed me. I would die past that finish line!

The speed spiked to its absolute max, and the out-of-control bike tore straight off the track.

The crash roared through the entire mountain road.

My whole body was flung viciously through the air, slamming hard against the rocks.

Blood blurred my vision in an instant.

My awareness scattered, piece by piece,

and in the last second before I blacked out,

Rufus's low sigh drifted through the earpiece.

"Why couldn't you just listen, even once?"

The next second.

The whole world went black.

When I woke, it was already that evening, and the only person in the hospital room was an intern assistant who'd joined the team not long ago.

The moment she saw my eyes open, her own rimmed red, and she scrambled off to find the doctor.

After the doctor finished examining me, he told me, his voice heavy with grief,

My right leg was shattered, and the engine's heat had burned the flesh of my thigh raw across a wide stretch of skin.

Even if every treatment after this went perfectly, there was no guarantee I'd walk normally for years.

As for racing…

My career.

It was over.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, something lodged in my throat, unable to push out a single word.

The young assistant threw herself down beside my bed and started to cry.

She was one of my fans. She'd joined this team in the first place because of me.

She never imagined her first real, up-close moment with me would be watching them carry me off the track.

She cried and cursed at the same time.

"This is sick. You're hurt this badly, and Mr. Delgado wouldn't even bring you to the hospital. He just had to stay at the track with Margot to handle the reporters."

"Margot only finished fifth, and he's out there saying that finishing her first world race at all is already a huge accomplishment, that she deserves a victory party."

"From the moment they brought you into this hospital until now, he hasn't called once."

My voice came out hoarse.

"Did I make it across the finish line?"

The young assistant's tears broke loose all over again.

It was a long time before she answered, barely above a whisper.

"No."

"The last ten meters. You got thrown clear of the car."

"No finish. No result."

Slowly, I closed my eyes.

Tears slid down past the corners and into the pillow.

Footsteps came at the door. Rufus's assistant walked in with a few people behind him,

saying Mr. Delgado wanted them to bring me over to the press conference.

The young assistant snapped.

"The doctor said she needs to rest, she's hurt this badly, and you want to drag her where?"

Rufus's assistant didn't answer. He just dialed Rufus right there in front of us.

Rufus's voice came through the speaker.

"A lot of the media today are saying Margot was parachuted into the starting lineup, that she climbed up over you. That kind of talk is bad for her future."

"You need to come down here and clear it up yourself. Say you decided to retire on your own, and admit Margot fits the team better than you do right now."

Hearing that, the young assistant was so furious the tears spilled over again.

But I just looked quietly at my immobilized leg, and after a long while I spoke.

"I'll come."

"But I want out of the team contract. A clean release, no fault on me."

Rufus's voice dropped at once.

"Christine, you really have to sulk and fight me on this?"

I looked down at the right leg I couldn't feel and answered calmly.

"You probably don't know. My thigh's shattered. I may never sit on a bike again as long as I live. Someone like me leaving the team, isn't that exactly how it should go?"

"I just don't want you using a breach penalty to hold over my head later."

The other end went silent for a long time.

I couldn't tell whether the extent of my injuries had stunned him, or my words had choked him off.

In the end, he said just one word.

"Fine."