Chapter 6

Others murmured quietly among themselves. "Seriously, they're handing the championship to Iris?"

"It's Mr. Collier's decision. Who would dare say no?"

"Lydia used to be a legend on the track. Now look at her, it's just sad."

Iris overheard and walked over.

She put on a pitiful look and said, "If you all think Lydia's getting the short end of the stick, I can just give up the championship."

The group went quiet right away.

Velma Goodwin, the team's deputy manager, stepped in with a smile, trying to smooth things over.

"Ms. Ferrell, don't take it to heart. Everyone feels sorry for Ms. Weaver. She's passing the torch to you. It's all for the team," she said.

I looked up at her. "Passing the torch?"

Velma was thick-skinned, her smile never wavering even in the face of awkwardness.

"Ms. Weaver, you step down, and Ms. Ferrell steps up. That's what we call passing the torch," she said.

"I'm not dead yet," I shot back.

Velma was momentarily speechless, awkwardly fiddling with her name tag.

Patrick said quietly, "That's enough."

I looked at him. "If you're so ashamed of me, you could've just left me at home."

"You're going today. No arguments."

Iris climbed into another car.

Right before the door closed, she flashed a small box in my direction.

That was my championship ring. It should have slipped onto my finger on the podium.

She mouthed, "It's mine now."

I didn't respond.

Patrick suddenly spoke up beside me. "Lydia, don't hate me."

I stared out the window, watching the city roll by.

"Hating you isn't worth the effort," I said.

He tapped his fingers on his knee. That was what he always did when he was anxious.

"Once Iris calms down, I'll make sure she apologizes to you," he said.

I asked, "So after she says sorry, does that mean I get to race again?"

Patrick just went quiet.

"And after she apologizes, will my legs magically heal?" I pressed.

He still didn't say a word.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Then don't bother with your fake apologies. They make me sick."

The car pulled up outside the Estary Raceway.

A massive poster hung at the entrance.

Iris was front and center, with Patrick standing right beside her.

My photo was shoved off to the side, with the words "A Tribute to Lydia Weaver's Retirement" underneath.

A tribute. Yeah, right.

Even after robbing me of my championship, they still acted like they were doing it all out of respect.

Noah was waiting for me outside the crowd.

He walked over and bent down to adjust the footrests on my wheelchair.

He kept his voice low. "I handed it over to the tech crew backstage."

I asked, "Can we trust him?"

"He's my cousin. He owes me his life."

I nodded.

Noah added, "Ms. Weaver, Iris just went to the control room."

I looked up.

He continued, "She asked if they could temporarily shut off the live stream."

"She's scared," I said.

Noah gritted his teeth. "Should we release it now?"

"No."

I looked ahead. At the end of the red carpet, Patrick was being interviewed.

A reporter asked, "Mr. Collier, with Lydia retiring and Iris taking over the championship, what does this mean for the team?"

Patrick replied, "It means passing the torch, and it means a new beginning."

The reporter pressed, "Was Lydia's retirement really her own decision?"

Patrick glanced over at me, his voice echoing through the crowd on the speakers.

"She's always known her place," he said.

Applause erupted all around.

I sat in my wheelchair and clapped along, just for show.

Noah muttered under his breath, "Bullshit."

I said, "Don't curse."

He looked at me, surprised.

I added, "Save it for what's coming."

Backstage in the lounge, Iris was busy putting on my championship ring.

Her fingers were thinner than mine, so the ring kept sliding around.

Velma grabbed some scotch tape and quickly taped up her finger to keep the ring from falling off.

"There, that should do the trick," she said.

Iris smiled, spinning her hand so the ring sparkled under the lights.

"It's gorgeous," she said.

As I was wheeled in, she made a point to hold her hand out, letting the ring catch the light.

"Lydia, you don't mind, right? Patrick said it's for the ceremony, so I get to wear it first," she said.

I stared at that ring, my heart twisting with a mess of emotions only I could understand.

My initials were etched on the inside, and I got that faint scratch on the outside last year, when I slammed into the guardrail after crossing the finish line in the rain.

I said, "Better hold on tight. Stolen things have a way of slipping away."

Velma immediately frowned. "Ms. Weaver, this is a public event. You might want to watch your words."

I shot back, "Are you her agent, or just her lapdog?"

Velma's face darkened.

She snapped, "Don't push it. The team gave you everything for years, and after your accident, Mr. Collier blew a ton of money fixing your legs. Have you got no shame?"

I turned to Patrick. "Is that what you think, too?"

He'd just walked in, and when he heard me, he paused mid-step.

"Velma's words are harsh, but she doesn't mean any harm," he said.

I nodded.