Chapter 3

I looked up and calmly spoke, echoing Charlotte’s words: “Fine, I forgive him.”

Charlotte’s expression softened, and she led Michael back to her office.

After work, I went straight to HR and handed in my resignation.

The HR Director was stunned: “Mr. Richard, what are you doing?”

“Just process it,” I said calmly.

“But your position is so crucial! Handoff will take at least three days, and Ms. Charlotte needs to be notified first!”

“Charlotte already knows about this. There’s no need to inform her again. Someone will take over my position in three days.”

With that, I turned and left.

I held absolute controlling power in this company. If I said someone would take over in three days, then someone certainly would.

Leaving the company, I drove to the racetrack in the hills.

My chest felt tight and heavy; I desperately needed a high-speed thrill to vent my emotions.

Because I loved racing, Charlotte had invested a lot of the company’s money into this track back then, and I was a VIP here.

As I entered the lobby, the receptionist saw me, and her composure visibly faltered.

She stammered, blocking my path, “Mr. Richard, I’m so sorry, but the track is undergoing maintenance today and isn’t open to the public…”

I saw her evasive eyes and had a hunch.

I probed, “Is Charlotte inside?”

The receptionist’s eyes widened suddenly, and she blurted out in surprise, “You… you knew?”

Sure enough, I ignored her attempts to stop me and walked directly into the inner track area.

As soon as I pushed open the door, the roar of engines reached me.

A red Aston Martin was parked at the starting line, its window rolled down.

I stood not far away, clearly seeing Charlotte in the passenger seat.

Half her body was leaned over, her hands guiding Michael’s hands, teaching him how to use the clutch, how to turn the steering wheel, and where to place his feet.

They were very close, their posture intimately casual.

Watching this scene, memories suddenly stung my nerves.

I used to be obsessed with racing. Back then, Charlotte was still very young, and she’d wait for me at the finish line with a bouquet of sunflowers after every race.

At the time, I didn't want to hold her back and refused her many times.

But she persisted; she was at almost every one of my races.

Until one time, I had an accident on the winding track, and the car rolled and caught fire.

I was trapped in the deformed driver’s seat. It was Charlotte who tore at the car door with her bare hands.

When I was rescued, I saw her hands covered in blood and scalding blisters.

Later, we got together.

With her, I found a desire for a normal life and the motivation to make money.

Even though my family had more money than we could ever spend, I chose to strike out on my own.

Back then, I was the one in the passenger seat, holding her hand and slowly teaching her how to race.

Now, she was doing the opposite, teaching another man in the exact same intimate way.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me; I suddenly lost all desire for racing.

Charlotte heard the movement and turned around. The moment she saw me, a clear flicker of panic crossed her eyes.

But Michael, sitting in the driver’s seat, had an undisguised look of triumph in his eyes.

I took one look, then turned and walked away.