Dragging Him to the Abyss When Love Dies

As the only S-level female race car driver in America, on the day of my retirement ceremony.

I received a photo on my Instagram.

Up there, the boyfriend who had been in love for many years was kissing another woman.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in someone's hand, a sharp pain spreading through my entire body.

I drove home, going 120 mph the whole way.

Halfway there, with trembling hands, I called James.

Before I could figure out what to say, James seemed to read my mind and spoke first, "Olivia, sorry, I had to leave early for something."

I felt relieved.

James was my best partner.

Over seven years, we worked together perfectly, winning countless races, big and small.

He had chosen the racing path because of me.

The person who would risk his life to get me to the hospital when I got injured in a race.

How could he possibly cheat?

But the next second, a woman's voice came through the phone, "Honey, who's calling? I want more."

The call was hung up. When I called again, no one answered.

James sent me a message.

[Company meeting, will contact you later.]

While I was devastated, an entertainment news story quickly shot to the top of the trending list.

#Shocking! Genius female racer's boyfriend James suspected of cheating.#

The attached image showed two people kissing passionately in a lounge, their backs to the camera.

Just like the message I had received earlier.

But the next second, that entertainment news story suddenly disappeared.

I kept scrolling and refreshing, cold sweat breaking out on my fingers, but I didn't stop.

I knew that only the Smith Family had the power to pull a news story that quickly.

On Instagram, that person sent me another message.

Dozens of photos of James in bed with a woman.

[He and I have been together for a long time. Be smart and leave him.]

[Now that you're retired and unemployed, you'll have to depend on him anyway.]

[You have no money, no background. What makes you think you can compete with me?]

[I'm the daughter of the Johnson family, the marriage partner his parents have approved.]

I turned my phone face down on my knee. No matter how much it vibrated, I ignored it.

Every word she said stabbed into my heart like a blade.

I couldn't help but wonder over and over: Did James still love me or not?

Three days ago, I had just found out I was pregnant. James was as happy as a child, picking me up and spinning me around in the living room.

"Quit your job. With the baby, my mom won't stand in our way anymore. I'll go back to the Smith Group and take over the family business."

"And you can just stay home and be a full-time wife. You won't have to do anything."

"Now that you're pregnant, you need to take good care of yourself."

At the time, I pressed my finger to his lips and smiled, "What if you change your mind? Then I'd have no job and no money. How would I survive?"

James took my hand and kissed the back of it.

"My money is yours. After you have the baby, I'll arrange for you to work at the company."

"Or if you don't want to work, you can just be Mrs. Smith."

I never expected things to change so fast.

My stomach churned. I couldn't help but dry heave, though nothing came out.

I picked up my phone and, as if possessed, opened that girl's profile.

[James proposed to me today. I'll be his bride this New Year. #a marriage between equals]

The caption accompanied a photo of a huge diamond ring on her left ring finger.

I gasped. In seven years together, James had never proposed to me, never bought me a diamond ring.

All he ever gave me were cheap good mornings, good afternoons, and good nights.

And I had let him sleep with me year after year, fooled by his sweet words.

Seven years. I had given James all my prize money from races as capital for his business ventures.

He wasn't just my navigator—I had even made him the registered owner when we set up the racing team.

I had willingly given him my most important things.

My stomach churned again.

I rushed to the bathroom and threw up over the toilet, nearly vomiting up all the stomach acid I had.

As I vomited, my eyes turned red.

In the end, I couldn't tell if what was dripping down was saliva or tears.

Just as I was about to grab a towel to wipe my mouth, I noticed an earring hanging on the bathrobe in the bathroom.

It wasn't mine.

So this place had been their playground too.