Chapter 4
"What's this?" Noah asked.
I replied, "This is the smoking gun. The evidence that catches her red-handed with my brakes."
He jerked his head up.
"Don't tell anyone. Especially not Patrick," I said.
Noah clenched the memory card in his fist and turned to leave.
Just then, Iris's voice rang out from the hallway. "Noah, what are you still doing in there?"
Noah slipped his hand into his pocket, the memory card clenched in his palm.
Iris pushed the door open, two team assistants trailing behind her.
Her eyes swept over the room, finally landing on Noah.
"Patrick wants you in the conference room. Why are you still hanging around?" she snapped.
Noah said, "Ms. Weaver wanted some water, so I was just about to call the nurse."
Iris just scoffed. "She's got hands, doesn't she? She doesn't need you waiting on her."
I grabbed the empty glass and hurled it to the floor.
The glass shattered, water streaking across the floor.
"Now I do," I shot back.
Iris's face darkened.
Noah hit the call button right away.
The nurse came in, saw the broken glass, and hurried to clean it up.
Iris stood off to the side. Her voice was soft. "Lydia, even if you smash every glass in this hospital, it won't change a thing about the ceremony the day after tomorrow."
I looked at her. "What are you so afraid of?"
"Afraid of you?" She scoffed, like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "You can't even get out of bed without someone helping you."
Noah frowned. "Iris."
She turned and shot him a glare. "What, you feeling sorry for her? Don't forget who signs your paychecks."
Noah kept his mouth shut.
I said, "Iris, you'd better pray the pit lane cameras were actually broken that day."
Iris's smile slipped for a second, but she recovered fast.
"Who are you trying to scare? The pit lane cameras just malfunctioned due to old equipment. The race officials already issued a report," she said.
"Did I say pit lane?" I shot back.
Iris's smile faded, just like that.
She stared at me, like she was searching my face for answers.
When Patrick walked in again, Noah was about to leave.
Patrick glanced around the room and asked, "What's going on here?"
Iris leaned in right away, sticking close to him.
"She smashed another glass and tried to say I'm scared of her," Iris complained.
Patrick looked over at me and said, "Can you just keep it together for two days?"
I shot back, "I've got two busted legs. How much more 'behaved' do you want me to be?"
Patrick was barely holding back his temper.
"Lydia, I've told you this is done. Are you really going to make everyone look bad?" he snapped.
"Who's actually looking bad here?" I shot back.
Patrick said, "The team, the Collier family, Iris, and you."
I nodded. "So I'm the one who's supposed to be embarrassed here?"
Patrick had nothing to say.
Iris whispered, "Patrick, should we just cancel the ceremony? I'm worried she might totally lose it up there."
Patrick said, "No way. The sponsors and the media are already here, and the retirement announcement's already out."
I looked at him. "You're in such a rush. Are you afraid something might go wrong if we wait too long?"
He didn't answer.
He walked over to my bed and set a tablet down in front of me.
On the screen was the retirement speech, already written out.
The first line read that the accident happened because I messed up behind the wheel.
The second line said I would take all the blame.
The third line said I was willingly giving this season's championship to Iris.
I finished reading and asked, "Who wrote this?"
Iris said, "The PR team. It's written to make you look good, so don't worry."
I looked at her. "How thoughtful of you."
She bent down to tuck the blanket around me, her voice so low only I could hear.
"Like it or not, you're reading it. Patrick won't let you take me down," she whispered.
I grabbed her wrist. "I already gave you your chance."
Her face went pale, and she immediately cried out, "It hurts! Patrick, she's squeezing me!"
Patrick clamped down on my hand, hard.
His grip was painfully tight.
I was fresh out of surgery and too weak to even fight back.
"Let go," Patrick said.
I looked at him. "You let go first."
Iris snatched her hand back. There was only a faint red mark on her wrist, but she acted like she'd been seriously wronged.
"Forget it, I'm not blaming her," she said.
Patrick stared at me and said, "Until the day after tomorrow, someone's gonna be guarding your room. Hand over your phone."
I let out a laugh. "So you're locking me up now?"
"I'm protecting you," he replied.
"Protecting me from calling the cops, from telling the truth, and making sure Iris gets to grab my trophy without any trouble?" I shot back.
He brushed it off. "Give me your phone."
I handed it over.
He thought I was finally giving in, and his expression softened a bit.