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For six years, I dedicated myself to Gregory Carter’s racing team. I wasn’t just his best driver and chief engineer—I was also the lover he kept in the shadows. He promised, "Win the national championship, and I’ll give you a home." The night before the finals, I brought coffee to his office and overheard his cold words: "Iliana Reed? She’s wild—good for winning races, but that’s it." "And for fun? Sure, she's okay, but she's not someone you'd introduce to the world." "Rosemary is the woman I’m going to marry. She’s refined, gentle, perfect for the Carter name." Six years of devotion vanished in an instant. On the day of the finals, I saved his life in a moment of crisis and ended up losing everything. When his new love humiliated me publicly, he gave me a disinterested look and walked away. He thought that was the end of my story. A year later, I returned to the