He Gave My Race Car to a Rookie,But I Became Champion Again

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Right before the Ferrari Circuit Rally, my fianc Rufus Delgado stopped me as I was heading out to the track.

Christine Swanson, we're swapping the starting driver for this race. Margot Fox's taking the lead. You'll run blocker and shield her out there.

I froze where I stood.

Rufus knew exactly what this meant. This was my last race before retiring to get married.

It was also the most important race of my careermy shot at a sixth straight championship, at becoming the number one female driver in the world.

Six years ago, Rufus's team was on the verge of folding.

I was the one who took title after title, who dragged the team from total obscurity to the top tier of the sport.

And now they wanted me to step aside for a rookie who'd barely scraped through her qualifying trials.

I refused outright.

"This is my race. I'm not giving it up."

Rufus frowned.

"Margot needs this championship."

"You've already won five. One more doesn't mean anything."

His face darkened.

"Christine, this is the team's decision."

"If you won't follow it, you know what happens."

I laughed.

"You'll fire me?"

Rufus didn't deny it.

And the entire crewthe people who'd stood beside me through all five championshipssilently went along with it.

Then it hit me. This wasn't about Margot needing the championship.

It was that they'd decided the team didn't need me anymore.

I pulled the team badge off my chest, then slid the engagement ring off my finger and pushed them both across to Rufus.

"In that case."

"I don't want the team. And I don't want you either."

I turned and walked toward my car.

Only to find Margot already sitting in it, dressed in a brand-new racing suit.

When she saw me coming, she seemed to startle, then said timidly,

"Christine, I'm so sorry. But Rufus said that starting today, this car belongs to me."

My head buzzed. I spun around and grabbed Rufus by the collar.

"What is this? You gave her my car? On what grounds! This is my car! Who said you could hand it to her!"

My eyes burned red as I locked onto him.

"This car is six years of my work! It's a masterpiece!"

"Three hundred-plus point races over six years. Broken bones, hospital bedsthat's the data we earned. Countless all-nighters with the engineers tearing it down and rebuilding it!"

"It carried me to five world titles! And you gave it to me!"

I bit down on my lip, fighting back the tears rising in my chest.

It was also the first car Rufus ever builtthe gift he gave me when we fell in love.

That day, he wheeled it out in front of me, face flushed, and asked if I'd be willing to climb to the top of the racing world with him, side by side.

He said, "Christine, racing is a dangerous sport. Out on that off-road circuit, you face life and death alone. But I want this car to face it with you, in my place."

And now he'd handed that carthe one that meant everything to both of usto someone else.

Rufus just pried my hands off his collar, his voice flat.

"That car is registered under the team's name."

"Every modification cost went through the team's books."

"Didn't you just say you didn't want the team, and you didn't want me either?"

"Since you're leaving the team."

"Then naturally you've got no right to use team property. Why shouldn't I give it to a newcomer?"

The words landed like a knife.

I stared at him, and a chill spread through my whole body.

Six years ago, when the team couldn't even cover the cost of renting a track,

I poured in every cent of my prize money. I ran race after race, chasing sponsors day and night, holding the whole thing together until now.

So all those years of money I'd earned with my life had gone into the team's accountand just like that, it had nothing to do with me anymore.

I didn't even have the right to use it anymore.

Margot tugged carefully at Rufus's sleeve.

"Rufus, maybe we should just let it go."

"Christine's a veteran on this team, after all. If she's upset because of me, I'd never forgive myself."

Then she lowered her voice and coaxed me too.

"Christine, don't hold a grudge against Rufus. A rally's brutal, you know. You're thirty now. He's just worried your body can't take it."

Hearing that, I laughed, the kind of laugh that comes when anger has nowhere left to go.

But Rufus had already turned and walked over to Margot. "Let me adjust your gear."

He crouched down, lifted her foot onto his knee, and fixed her shoe with his own hands.

Margot flushed deep red, her eyes drifting toward me with that same picture of innocence.

"Rufus, won't this look bad"

Rufus let out a low laugh.

"What's bad about it?"

"You're the most important person on this team. Today, no one matters more than you."

The words landed like a slap across my face.

Everyone crowded around her, laughing warmly, walking her through the race briefing about to begin, the wind, the terrain, the rival drivers' profiles.

I stood where I was. Not one person acknowledged me. No one even set out a comms headset for me.

All that was left for me was a backup bike that had been retired last year.

Everyone had silently agreed to leave me out in the cold, waiting for me to cave.

Without a team backing me, there was no way I'd finish this rally.

I clenched my jaw, my nails nearly digging into my palms.

That was when a message came through on my phone.

It was from the manager of the team next door, a road-condition report so thorough it left nothing out.

"I heard everything you two said."

"Christine, my team will always welcome you."

"Still sulking?"

Rufus had come over at some point.

I switched off my phone and looked up at him.

He acted as if nothing had happened at all.

He held the track-analysis tablet out in front of me, his voice perfectly calm.

"The wind shifted today. Past the third supply point, the crosswind's going to get worse. I had someone mark out the road conditions and the corner data. Take a look for yourself."

I didn't reach for it.

Rufus frowned slightly, then crouched down without a care in the world and started a final check on that old bike.

Then, as if something had just occurred to him, he said, "Didn't you keep asking me to come home with you to meet your parents? The team always had something come up at the last minute, so it never worked out. After this race is over, I'll go back with you."

Something caught in my chest.

I didn't know when it had started, that Rufus, the one whose every thought used to be only of me, had become this.

Every time he needed to push me aside, he'd leave me hanging first, waiting for me to bow my head on my own.

And if I didn't, he'd toss me some small kindness, then breeze past the whole thing as if it were nothing.

I lowered my eyes and said only one thing.

"We'll see."

Rufus's hands paused. He hadn't expected that from me.

But all at once I remembered.

Every single time I'd said I wanted to bring him home to meet my parents, they'd start getting ready days in advance.

My mom would head to the market before dawn to buy groceries. My dad would scrub the yard spotless, inside and out.

A whole table of son-in-law's-favorite dishes, kept warm from noon clear into the night, and what they always got in the end was word that something had come up for Rufus.

They were crushed, every time, yet they'd force a smile and comfort me instead.

"It's fine. Career comes first for young people. Next time will be just as good."

This time, though, they waited a long while.

A notification suddenly popped up on my phoneMargot'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 carhas 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."

Half an hour later, they lifted me from the hospital bed into a wheelchair, then rolled me into the press conference.

Margot stood among a cluster of sponsors in a gown that matched the color of Rufus's suit, her arm looped through his.

He leaned down to introduce her around, his tone warm, his expression patient.

When he saw me wheeled in, he gave me one flat glance, then had them push me up onto the stage.

In front of all the media, he announced

that I was officially leaving the team for health and personal reasons, and that Margot would be taking over the starting position from here on.

Below the stage, the camera flashes went wild.

A reporter suddenly stood up and asked,

"Miss Swanson, what actually happened with your car losing control today? A lot of people online suspect the team tampered with the car beforehand to push a newcomer up. Is that true?"

The room went silent in an instant, every eye swinging toward Margot.

Margot's eyes reddened on cue.

Rufus patted her hand to soothe her, then said in a level voice:

"No one tampered with anything."

"Christine's own driving was the problem. The crash had nothing to do with the team."

I sat in the wheelchair, slowly curling my fingers into my palm, and lowered my head.

The press conference wasn't even over before the smears about me were everywhere.

Some said I'd aged out, that my skills were slipping, and that I was clinging to my starting seat to keep a rookie down.

Some said I'd blown the race and then tried to dump the blame on the team, that I couldn't stand to lose and couldn't stand to quit.

More and more people started gushing over Margot, saying that finishing fifth in her very first world championship made her the team's true rising star.

A few even dug up her personal account and started shipping her with Rufus,

saying that a team owner and a prodigy rookie looked far better matched than Rufus and me ever had.

By the time the victory party ended, Margot had had too much to drink,

her whole body melting against Rufus, clinging to his arm, cooing that she wanted him to take her home.

Rufus looked down at her, and his voice carried an indulgence I hadn't heard in a long time.

"Sure."

Then, as if he'd finally remembered I was still there, he turned to me in the wheelchair.

"You can get yourself back to the hospital, right?"

I watched him quietly and gave a small nod.

Rufus didn't spare me another glance. He didn't even notice that I was the only one left in the entire hall.

He took Margot and strode out.

I stayed where I was, watching their backs disappear through the hotel doors.

"Let's go."

I said it softly.

Someone wheeled my chair into the van waiting at the curb.

The moment the door shut, Jim James, the manager of the Skyvault Racing Team, reached out his hand to me:

"Christine, I'm going to bring you back to the top."