Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
At the victory gala celebrating her championship,
my wife, Elena, walked toward me with a gentle smile, holding a custom Patek Philippe men's watch in her hand.
I thought it was a surprise she had prepared just for me.
Instead, she walked right past me and handed the watch to her new sponsor, Zane Cross.
Six months ago, she secretly commissioned this half-million-dollar timepiece.
She even specifically asked for the letter "Z" to be engraved on the back—a letter I was certain stood for Zachary, my name.
As it turned out, I was just flattering myself.
What she didn't know was that the watch was worth far more than the half-million she paid for it.
The master Swiss watchmaker only accepted the order because of my family's private standing. It was a one-of-a-kind favor.
Elena had no clue about any of it.
On the stage, Elena kissed the glittering gold trophy with tears of excitement in her eyes.
She raised her champagne flute high, toasting the roaring crowd.
As the first female driver to take the championship podium, she was undeniably the brightest star in the room.
Shedding her racing suit, she had changed into a custom off-the-shoulder evening gown.
Her sun-kissed skin and toned, athletic curves drew deafening cheers from every corner of the ballroom.
After a few rounds of drinks, she took the mic, smiling as she announced she had someone special to thank.
Then, taking a sleek black velvet box from an assistant, she walked slowly in my direction.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
After all these years.
Was she finally ready to acknowledge our marriage in public?
Inside that box was the ultimate token of love she had commissioned six months ago: a bespoke Patek Philippe.
One of one in the entire world.
A private commission from that legendary brand was nearly impossible to secure, no matter how much money someone had.
I knew every detail of that watch by heart:
The celestial blue dial, the rose-gold bezel, paired with an understated matte-black alligator strap.
And most importantly, the delicate "Z" engraved on the back case.
My palms were slick with nervous sweat as I waited for her to place it in my hands.
Yet, in the very next second, she brushed right past my shoulder and walked straight up to Zane Cross.
My hand froze in midair. The smile on my face hardened into stone.
With a radiant beam, Elena pressed the box into Zane's hands.
"Mr. Cross," she said softly, "thank you for believing in me and sponsoring my race. This is just a small token of my appreciation."
Zane arched an eyebrow. His gaze flicked between me and Elena, wearing an amused, knowing smirk.
Of course he recognized me. As Elena's assistant for years, I was by her side around the clock.
Everyone in the paddock knew who I was.
They used to joke that I was her "hood ornament"—a clingy tagalong who couldn't survive a single day without her.
Now, it seemed the old ornament had lost its shine.
She was already trading it in for someone wealthier, shinier, and more dangerous.
Sensing my humiliation, Zane let out a low chuckle.
"Elena, it's my absolute honor to back you."
"To show my sincerity, I'm committing twenty million dollars to your next run! Let's bring home the World Championship cup in three months!"
"Yes!"
The ballroom erupted into applause. Elena's eyes lit up like fireworks, pure joy radiating from her skin.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Cross. Let me put it on for you."
She popped the box open, lifted the stunning timepiece, and carefully fastened it around his wrist.
As she leaned in, their faces were inches apart—an intimacy so brazen it burned my eyes.
Once it was on, she held his hand with both of hers, admiring the watch with an adoring gaze.
The sight made my chest ache with sharp, suffocating pain.
She used to hold my hands like that. She used to press my knuckles against her cheek, completely open and dependent on me.
“Zach, I made it through the qualifiers!”
“Zach, I got past the semi-finals!”
“Zach, finals are tomorrow... I'm so nervous...”
Her breathless whispers felt like they were still echoing in my ears, yet the woman standing before me felt like a total stranger.
My breathing grew heavy.
Elena had no idea that the half-million she paid for that watch didn't even cover the raw materials.
Without my family pulling strings behind the scenes, not even a world-class champion could have gotten a meeting with that watchmaker.
And that twenty million Zane threw around so casually? It was barely enough to cover a base model in our private collection.
She knew none of this.
I really thought that tiny engraved "Z" was for Zachary.
I never imagined it stood for Zane.
From beginning to end, I had played myself like a fool.Beaming with pride, Elena linked her arm through Zane's and led him right in front of me.
She introduced me casually: "Zachary Vance, my assistant."
"And Zach, this is Zane Cross. He's the primary sponsor behind my win. And like he just said, he's investing twenty million into our next race!"
Zane raised a brow, his dismissive gaze sweeping over me before giving a careless nod.
"Right. Assistant Vance. Quite a celebrity in the pit lane, aren't you?"
Despite the disgust curdling in my stomach, the manners ingrained in me kept my expression calm.
I nodded and extended a hand toward him.
Instead of taking it, he casually pulled back his cuff, flashing the rose-gold Patek Philippe glinting on his wrist.
Glancing down at the dial, he gave a half-smile.
"Pardon me, but I have an international conference call in five minutes. My partners in Zurich are on a tight schedule."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
Elena rushed after him immediately. "Mr. Cross, let me walk you to your car!"
I stood rooted to the spot, my hand hanging empty in the air as I watched them leave side by side.
Zane's hand rested naturally on the bare curve of her back, his fingers tracing small circles on her skin. The rose-gold case caught the chandeliers' light, sending cold, mocking flashes straight into my chest.
I forced myself to ignore the whispers and mocking glances around the room.
Yet memories kept flooding back.
My hands were once the only ones allowed to trace that smooth skin. I was the one she leaned on, the one she whispered her darkest fears to.
Now, she was happily offering that same skin to a wealthier, more powerful man.
It took Elena nearly half an hour to come back. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with a wild, giddy thrill.
Her stride seemed slightly uneven, but my mind was too numb to dwell on it.
She walked straight up to me, took my hands, and flashed a breathless smile.
"Zach! Did you hear that? With Zane's backing, I'm practically one step away from the World title!"
It was always like this.
In front of others, I was "Zachary" or "my assistant," kept strictly at arm's length.
Only when we were completely alone did she ever drop the mask and call me "Zach."
I was naive enough to believe that tenderness belonged to me alone.
Zane's appearance had shattered that illusion into dust.
"Zane even said my car's engine isn't hitting peak output," she chattered on.
"He promised to hook me up with a top-tier engine manufacturer for a fully sponsored power unit! Zach, my dream is finally coming true!"
Her eyes were burning with ambition as she painted her golden future on the podium.
I slowly curled my fingers into fists, keeping my voice dead even. "So, you're ditching the Vance-Tech engine?"
"Well, yeah!" She nodded without a shred of hesitation, even pouting a little.
"Vance-Tech's units are crazy expensive, old-school, and drink fuel like water. Haven't you noticed?"
Then she softened her tone, swaying my arm playfully.
"Come on, don't you want me to have the best gear out there?"
I let out a silent, bitter laugh.
Elena had no clue that I owned Vance-Tech.
That engine was originally designed for private aviation prototypes.
When she told me she lacked straight-line speed, I begged my family's head engineers to scale it down, re-tune the torque curve, and eat millions in production costs just to drop it into her chassis.
To fuel her racing career, I poured my own private trust fund into building Vance-Tech. The company literally had only one client: her.
And now, she tossed it aside like a piece of cheap junk.When the gala wrapped up, I didn't touch a drop of alcohol, remaining her designated driver as always.
Elena drove like a demon on the track, but she never touched a steering wheel off it.
She always laughed and said her life was too precious to waste on civilian traffic.
Her driving skills, she claimed, were reserved for hoisting trophies and for the man she truly loved.
For six years, I stayed by her side, driving her everywhere, grinding through the backmarkers with her.
From an unknown rookie to the most sought-after female driver in the sport.
Every step of her journey carried my blood and sweat.
I wasn't just her manager and mechanic; I literally got certified in high-performance tuning just for her.
All so that during pit stops, I could adjust her tire pressures and fuel trim with my own hands, sending her back out in flawless condition.
Tonight, however, when I unlocked the SUV, she didn't climb into the passenger seat as usual. She slipped straight into the back.
She leaned back against the headrest with her eyes closed, a dreamy smirk playing on her lips, clearly still lost in the empire Zane had promised her.
I slid behind the wheel. A sharp, distinct smell instantly hit my nose.
Terre d'Hermès cologne—Zane's signature scent—mingled with the heavy, unmistakable musk of sex.
My knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. I whipped around, my voice trembling with rage. "Elena, was Zane in this car? What the hell did you two do back there?!"
Startled awake by my tone, she scowled in annoyance.
"Why are you yelling? Mr. Cross just sat back here to talk terms on the sponsorship contract."
She added defensively, "It was strictly business. Stop being so paranoid."
"Strictly business?"
A harsh laugh tore from my throat. Fury overwhelmed my senses. I kicked my door open, ripped the rear door wide, and hauled her out into the cold night air.
In the struggle, her evening gown hiked up past her hips.
My breath caught in my throat.
She wasn't wearing any underwear.
It felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, followed instantly by a spark hitting an open gas tank.
My hand jerked up on pure reflex, trembling violently, stopping inches from her face.
"Elena... you sold yourself for twenty million dollars?"
My voice cracked, shattered by anger, betrayal, and sheer disgust.
She merely sighed, her eyelids fluttering with boredom, clearly unwilling to argue. "Zach, grow up. I have a massive headache."
She climbed back into the leather seat, rubbing her temples. "You think I like playing nice with sleazy executives? Zach, a new chassis costs a fortune.”
“Engine swaps cost a fortune. Your whole pit crew's payroll costs a fortune! Do you think money just falls from the sky?"
"I thought winning the national title would bring sponsors knocking on my door. But after filtering through them all, Zane is the only one with real capital. He's the only one who can put me on that World stage."
Her voice softened into a patronizing hum:
"Be a good boy, Zach. Don't throw a tantrum. Just drive us home. I'm exhausted."
I slammed the rear door shut, got back into the driver's seat, and felt an icy, suffocating ache hollow out my ribs.
Elena suddenly leaned forward between the front seats, wrapping her arms around my neck, trying to kiss my cheek.
I jerked my head away and snapped, "Sit back and buckle up!"
Before she could click the seatbelt in, I mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The twin-turbo V8 screamed, launching us forward like a rocket.
The speedometer leaped past 110 mph in seconds.
Elena panicked, slamming her fists against my seatback. "Zach! What are you doing?! Slow the fuck down!"
She was such a hypocrite.
On the asphalt track, she never hesitated to rub fenders at 180 mph, fighting tooth and nail for every millimeter of an apex.
Yet on public streets, she was terrified of going five miles over the speed limit.
Maybe it stemmed from the trauma of losing both her parents in a highway pileup as a kid. Her relationship with cars was always twisted.
Just as I was about to drop another gear to terrify her, her phone rang.
The display flashed Zane Cross's name.
Elena answered instantly, her tone doing a complete 180—sweet, obedient, and breathless.
"Yes, Mr. Cross... Don't worry, I'll find it right now and bring it over."
She hung up, then slammed her palm hard against my shoulder, screaming:
"Zachary Vance! Pull over right now!"
Chapters (3)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Watch & Promotions
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