Because I had feelings for him. Stupid, reckless, deep-down feelings. And he’d looked at me like I was a threat.
I let my forehead rest against the cool glass, the city a blur of movement and colour below. Seoul was still humming, still alive. While I stood here bleeding from a wound no one could see.
But slowly, breath by breath, the pain sharpened into something else.
Resolve.
I turned back to the mess on the bed. Pages of data, signatures, logs—proof. Not theory. Not conjecture. Proof. I had it. And I wasn’t going to bury it because a man I’d been sleeping with couldn’t stomach the truth.
I wasn’t doing this for a headline. I was doing it because no one else would. Because fans deserved better. Because drivers like Sofia Vega deserved a level playing field. Because the truth mattered—even when it hurt.
Especially then.
I sat on the edge of the bed, pulled my laptop onto my knees, and opened a fresh document. Fingers poised over the keys, I stared at the blinking cursor.
Then I started to type the first line of the article that would change everything:
‘A house of cards never falls quietly.’
Chapter Twenty Eight – Seoul Race Day
Aleksandr Volkov – Seoul Grand Prix, Sunday
The roar of the crowd was distant—muted by the helmet, the cockpit, the chaos in my head.
Strapped in. Engine purring beneath me. Tyres hot, brakes twitchy, heart hammering like I’d swallowed a jackhammer.
Grid slot P1. Again.
Where I was supposed to be.
Where I’d fought to be.
Where I wasn’t sure I deserved to be.
Focus.
Mac’s voice crackled through the radio, cutting through the noise like a scalpel.
“Let’s keep this clean, Aleks. Precision. Power. Perfection. Just like we drilled.”
Obsidian’s holy trinity.
I closed my eyes for half a breath.
Precision.
Apexes. Brake points. Tyre management. Forget Elena. Forget Hartmann. Forget the mess.
Power.
Let the car carry me. Trust the engineering. Trust the data. Trust nothing else.
Perfection.
Even when the world was burning behind the scenes… the drive had to be flawless.
My fingers flexed over the steering wheel, gloves damp with sweat. The lights on the gantry above blinked red, one by one.
