Chapter 92 Tension on the starting line

Chapter 92 Tension on the starting line
Kayla’s POV

The morning of the race began earlier, I stood just inside the exclusive lounge reserved for racers and their teams, watching my teammates mill around as organizers moved briskly in and out, coordinating final details for the charity children’s party. 

Beyond the glass walls, decorations had been carefully arranged, bright colors clashing cheerfully against the otherwise sleek and controlled environment of the stadium complex.

This fundraiser race had always been about more than speed. The money raised from previous events was being used to support thirty four orphanage homes, and today, the children from those homes would be attending the party before the race. It was meant to be lighthearted, joyful, a reminder of why we raced in the first place.

Yet my chest felt tight.

I leaned against a counter, arms folded, scanning the room again.

Vivian was not there.

“She’s really gone, then,” one of my teammates said behind me.

I turned slightly as three of them gathered nearby, their voices low but curious. Racers from other teams filled the lounge as well, some laughing, some stretching, others lost in their own pre race rituals.

“They didn’t even announce it properly,” another teammate added. “Just an email. Dropped by the coach.”

“Evicted,” someone else said with a snort. “That’s the word going around.”

I kept my expression neutral, though my thoughts were anything but.

“Maybe it’s because of her manipulation at the last race,” a teammate suggested. “She was reckless. She almost made our team lose the race.”

“Or maybe she’s in another scandal,” another said casually. “She attracts drama.”

They laughed lightly, but the sound grated on me.

Only I knew the truth.

And despite everything, despite the tension and her cruel behavior, a part of me still wanted Vivian here.

I hated that about myself.

I glanced toward the entrance again, silently willing her to appear, to prove that what I did the night before had not been in vain.

As my teammates continued speculating, my mind drifted back to the moment everything shifted.

Flashback

I sat on the edge of my bed, laptop open, phone discarded beside me. The email from my racing coach glowed on the screen, the words burned into my mind.

‘Vivian had officially dropped out of the competition.’

For a brief, shameful moment, relief washed over me.

The tension would ease. The constant comparisons would stop. The pressure of rivalry would finally lift.

Then reality settled in.

Kayla versus Vivian had become the face of the fundraiser race. Media outlets thrived on the narrative. Sponsors leaned into it. The audience loved it. Removing that rivalry would drain the competition of its electricity.

And more than that, I wanted to beat her.

Not through rumors. Not through suspicion. But on the track, where everything was undeniable.

I closed the email and opened another tab, already dialing numbers in my head.

By midnight, I had answers.

Vivian’s modeling agency had ordered her to step down from the race. According to their assessment, her involvement in the competition was beginning to harm the carefully curated public image they had built for her. The scandal surrounding the last race, and the whispers that followed had become a liability.

I stared at the information, jaw tight.

“This isn’t over,” I muttered.

I pulled some strings that night, calling in favors I rarely used. After several tense conversations, I finally reached a high ranking executive within the company.

“You’re asking us to reverse a decision,” he said coolly. “That’s not simple.”

“I understand,” I replied evenly. “But she deserves to finish what she started.”

There was a pause. “And if this damages her image further?”

“I’ll compensate,” I said without hesitation. “Publicly or privately. Whichever way you need it to be handled.”

Silence followed.

Then, “We’ll allow her to complete the race.”

Relief flooded me, sharp and immediate.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely.

When the call ended, I leaned back, exhaustion settling into my bones.

At least she would be there.

The memory faded as a voice cut through the lounge.

“They’re ready for us.”

We were instructed to line up before heading out to meet the children. I straightened, smoothing my racing suit, my eyes once again drawn to the entrance.

Still nothing.

My worry deepened. “Had I failed?”

Just as we were about to move, the door opened.

A hush fell over the room.

Vivian walked in.

For a split second, no one spoke. Conversations died mid sentence. Even racers from other teams turned to stare.

“She’s back,” someone whispered.

My breath caught.

Relief and dread tangled painfully in my chest.

One of my teammates nudged me playfully. “I knew it,” she said with a grin. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

I forced a smile but said nothing.

Vivian did not look at me.

As we moved out to meet the children, the atmosphere shifted. Laughter replaced tension as the kids swarmed toward us, eyes wide with excitement. I crouched down, greeting them, laughing as they tugged at my sleeves and asked endless questions.

Despite the joy around us, my awareness stayed fixed on Vivian.

I maneuvered closer, waiting for a moment to speak.

When I finally reached her, she turned sharply, her eyes cold.

“You have some nerve,” she said quietly.

I opened my mouth. “Vivian, you should relax.”

“Relax?” she snapped. “How you tried to frame me?”

My heart dropped. “That’s not what happened.”

“You really hate me that much?” she continued, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “That you’d believe I could take someone’s life?”

Mel.

The name echoed painfully in my mind.

“You left me to choice. Your attitude made me believe you did it,” I said quickly. 

“You didn’t even give me a chance to defend myself,” she said bitterly. 

Before I could respond, a child tugged at her arm, pulling her attention away. 

I stood there, frozen, realizing with a sick twist in my stomach that I had misjudged everything and was quick to jump into conclusions.

As we said goodbye to the children later, waving as they were led away, the question haunted me.

If not Vivian, then who?

Back in the stadium, our coach gathered us as we warmed up.

“This is the third race,” he said firmly. “Win this, and we qualify for the next round.”

I nodded absently, my phone pressed to my ear as Maya’s voice filled it.

“I’m working on meeting the client,” she said. “All files are ready.”

“That’s good,” I replied distractedly, my other hand swatting Ashton’s name off my screen for the fourth time.

“Focus,” the coach snapped suddenly. “This isn’t the time for distractions.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly.

As we moved toward the tracks, an announcement rang out across the stadium.

“Due to management issues, today’s race will consist of three total rounds. This will be the final race. First, second, and third positions will be awarded today.”

Groans erupted around us.

“What?” someone shouted.

Even the coach looked stunned. It was obvious he just got to know about the change.

The pressure intensified instantly.

I inhaled deeply. “I had to win. For the audience. For the children.”

But as Vivian turned and fixed me with a hard glare, I knew it would not be easy.