Chapter 7

"So Iris screwed me over, but she didn't mean any harm. Velma chews me out, but she's being nice. So when does your team's malice actually count? Do you need to put a knife to my throat before you finally admit it?" I shot back.

Velma slammed her name tag down on the table, fuming.

"Lydia, remember Mr. Collier still holds your contract," she snapped.

Noah, standing behind me, spoke up right away. "Look at her legs now, and you're still holding the contract over her? Don't you have any shame?"

Velma shot him a glare. "Is this your place to talk?"

Noah let out a cold laugh. "I've been working on her car long before you even knew who she was."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She asked, "Noah, why do you keep sticking up for her today? You two got something going on behind Patrick's back?"

Patrick turned to Noah.

Noah didn't flinch.

"I just can't stand it," he said.

Iris's eyes grew teary. "Patrick, I'm really scared. What if they start making a scene on stage?"

Patrick turned to the bodyguards. "Once the ceremony starts, you two stand on either side of the wheelchair."

I burst out laughing. "What, you think a cripple like me is gonna jump up and smack her?"

Patrick's face darkened. "I'm worried you'll hurt yourself," he said.

"Do you even believe that yourself?" I shot back.

He walked over, knelt in front of me, and tried to take my hand.

I tucked my hand under the wheelchair's armrest.

His hand closed on empty air.

"Lydia, once today is over, everything will fall into place," Patrick said.

I asked, "Everything? What exactly do you mean?"

"Your recovery, your life, our marriage," he replied.

I looked at him and said, "We're already divorced."

The lounge went dead silent.

Iris was the first to snap out of it. "What did you say?"

Patrick's face fell. "Who told you that?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "I signed the divorce papers myself. Who do you think told me?"

Velma blurted out, "Mr. Collier, you two are divorced? Then why are you still making her take the fall for Ms. Ferrell on stage today? Isn't that—"

Her voice faded, too scared to finish.

Patrick turned to her. "Get out."

Velma immediately shut up.

But Iris picked up on it right away.

"Patrick, why didn't you tell me? You divorced her. Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded.

Patrick lowered his voice. "Can we not do this right now?"

Her tears came pouring down, fast and furious.

"Are you trying to get back together with her? After the ceremony, you said you'd take her abroad for rehab. You still want to keep her by your side, don't you?" Iris demanded.

Patrick said, "Knock it off, Iris."

I watched them, thinking this drama was way more entertaining than the actual awards show.

Iris jabbed a finger at me and snapped, "Lydia, you're doing this on purpose. You want Patrick to feel sorry for you."

I leaned back in my wheelchair. "Iris, when you snatched my championship, did you ever think you'd end up scrambling for a divorced guy, too?"

Her face went ghostly pale.

Patrick stood up. "That's enough," he said.

Then, a staff member knocked on the door.

"Mr. Collier, the live stream starts in ten minutes," he said.

Patrick took a deep breath and replied, "Stick to the original plan."

Iris was still crying. "I don't want to be on stage with her."

Patrick rubbed his temples.

"You have to go up there. Today is your big moment," he said.

"Then make sure she keeps her mouth shut," Iris demanded.

"She'll stick to the script," Patrick replied.

I looked up and said, "I never promised I'd go along with that."

The bodyguards immediately stepped forward.

Patrick stared me down. "Lydia, don't push me, or I'll make things ugly for you right here," he warned.

I shot back, "Go ahead. How much worse can you make it for me?"

He took a file from his assistant and dropped it right in front of me.

It was psych eval paperwork from the hospital. Patrick was the one who filed it.

According to the form, I was emotionally unstable after surgery, maybe even paranoid.

Patrick leaned in, his voice low and cold. "If you say anything out of line today, I'll have the doctors discredit everything you say."

I stared at the file, my smile fading bit by bit.

"Patrick, you've even got my 'insanity' all set up, huh?" I said.

He looked away and said, "I don't want you to ruin yourself."

"Don't worry," I said.

He looked at me.

I met his gaze, enunciating every word, "The one who's going down today isn't me."

The lights in the event hall were blinding.

I was wheeled to the side of the stage, with a bodyguard on either side of my wheelchair.

The audience was packed with team members, reporters, sponsors, and the Collier family.

On the big screen, my race highlights kept looping.

Rain-soaked overtakes, saving the car on winding mountain roads, and that last-lap comeback.

All those moments belonged to the Lydia who could still floor it, the one who lived for the thrill of racing.

The host gripped the mic, his voice booming with excitement. "Today, we bid farewell to a legendary racer and welcome the rise of a new champion!"

The crowd erupted in applause.