Chapter 3
I began sorting through my personal belongings, preparing to vanish completely after the final race. Rosemary sauntered into the lounge, her high heels clicking against the floor, flaunting her custom racing suit right in front of me.
"Iliana, doesn't this suit make me look like a real racer?" she taunted with a smug smile. "Gregory says I pull it off perfectly." Her arrogance was a thorn in my side, but I felt nothing. Her antics were pathetic, leaving me filled with nothing but disdain, hardly worth a retort.
When I arrived at the pit the next day, my technical team was gone. The six key technicians, my old partners since the team's inception, had all been reassigned.
"Iliana, your team's been reassigned; these are the new techs," Reagan, the team leader, said, handing me profiles of unfamiliar faces. They were greenhorns, and it felt like a hollow had been carved in my chest. The old team, the ones I’d been fine-tuning race parameters with just yesterday, now stood by Rosemary’s car, unable to meet my eyes.
"Not happy?" Gregory’s cold voice cut through the air behind me. The once-gentle man now had a gaze filled only with profit calculations. "I don’t need an explanation; just make sure to give it your all in the finals." He leaned in close, lowering his voice. "Don’t play any games that could hurt the team’s results, or you’ll regret it."
I laughed, a bitter and sarcastic laugh. "Don’t worry, I’ll win the championship and won’t screw up your plans." Gregory frowned, mulling over my words, but then walked away.
In the locker room, whispers stopped abruptly as I entered. "Heard Iliana got her spot through connections, just a favor from the old team boss," someone murmured. "Her skills are washed up; that’s why Gregory’s hiring fresh talent."
I pushed the door open, and everyone fell silent, awkwardly scattering. Those who once celebrated victories with me couldn’t even meet my gaze now. Six years of hard work and dedication, so easily tarnished.
"Iliana," a familiar voice called from behind. It was Hayden, a former teammate and now the ace driver for a rival team. "I’ve heard a few things." He handed me a soda. "Gregory hasn’t been himself lately, be careful during the race." His concern nearly brought me to tears, but I only nodded.
After Hayden left, I felt a flicker of warmth but became even more vigilant. The day before the finals, I noticed something peculiar while inspecting my car. The intake system's resistance was up, the fuel system’s precision was down, and the tire pressure was off. These weren’t ordinary issues; someone had tampered with it deliberately.
"Can the parts be replaced? These components are really worn out," I approached Reagan.
"Budget constraints; all drivers are using old parts," Reagan avoided my eyes. I glanced toward the pit area where other drivers’ cars were surrounded by brand-new spares, while mine sat like an abandoned orphan. I resolved to personally conduct a final comprehensive inspection, not wanting to leave any risks behind.
While checking Gregory's car, an anomaly in the brake system caught my attention. Tiny scratches, misaligned connections, and almost invisible hydraulic fluctuations. Someone was planning to sabotage Gregory in the finals. I knew these modifications would fail at the third bend on the high-speed track.
My wrist ached painfully during the inspection. "Dr. Torres, I need some treatment for my injury," I requested. He prescribed some medication, and I unintentionally overheard his conversation with Gregory.
"Just give her a placebo; don’t let her mess up the race," Gregory's indifferent voice reached me. I looked at the pills in my hand, feeling utterly defeated. Even my health was less important to him than the race.
Late at night, I stood alone on the track, thoughts swirling. Should I save him or not? Warn Gregory about the car issues or let it be? Past memories replayed in my mind like a movie: his patience when teaching me driving skills, caring for me when I was ill, and the shared joy of our first championship. But now, the betrayal was glaring.
He used me as a tool, took away the team I built, and sacrificed my well-being for his gains. Tomorrow’s race would be our final act.