Chapter 10
The race concluded, engines stilled, and staff ushered racers to the podium. Valeria stepped toward the champion’s perch when Dominic carved through the crowd, brushing past Adriana to confront her, eyes alight with disbelief and a gnawing curiosity. “Valeria, who are you?”
“You know my name—surely that’s enough,” she shot back, irony lacing her voice, a mocking smile curling her lips.
His breath hitched, voice dropping to a strained whisper. “How’d you pull off Sierra’s Butterfly Drift? Are you… could you be Sierra?”
The question dangled, heavy with doubt. The Barnetts had scoured her past—nothing hinted at the famed racer from three years ago. Yet that flawless drift gnawed at his certainty. Valeria cut through his tangle. “What’s it to you? I won—that’s all that matters.”
“You—” Dominic faltered, her ascent to the podium a quiet rebuke to his earlier swagger, pride stinging in the reversal. Desperation flared; he caught the referee’s eye with a subtle signal. The referee nodded, voice rising. “Wait—suspected rule breaches by the top two racers. Disqualification pending.”
Shock rippled; Valeria’s brow furrowed. “What breach?”
The referee’s face was stone. “Witnesses saw it—the third car nearly passed when you colluded with the second to force it off, causing a crash. You’re both out. Rafael Finch wins.”
“Blind, are you?” Valeria’s laugh cracked with frustration. “Conspire while racing? That yellow car—your winner—tried ramming me repeatedly. Rules demand his disqualification for aggression, yet you ignore that and target me. I want the footage reviewed—now!”
“Fine,” the referee shrugged, unruffled.
The replay flared onscreen—yellow car lunging, black car crashing it aside, Valeria’s moves pristine. Evidence gleamed, yet the referee doubled down. “It’s clear—you and the black car forced the yellow off. My call stands.”
Dominic smirked, smugness oozing. “Hear that? You’ve lost—I win.”
“This is cheating!” Valeria’s fists clenched, fury blazing—she saw Dominic’s hand in the referee’s bias, his gall bare under the lights.
He reveled, taunting, “Skill’s nothing against my power, Valeria. In this world, power sets the rules. See now what crossing Uncle costs? Apologize—our past might soften me—”
“Spare me your drivel!” she snapped, cutting his arrogance dead.
Dominic’s face shadowed, irritation flaring—he turned to the referee. “She broke rules—why’s she still up there?”
The referee nodded briskly. “Remove her!”
Staff advanced, the Barnett sway unspoken but ironclad. Then a voice thundered—“Stop!”—freezing all in a heartbeat.
Heads swiveled to the black car’s driver, helmet lifting to reveal a chiseled face, arresting the crowd. His cool gaze swept Dominic, whose smugness faltered, and a subtle smirk curved his lips. “Speaking of power—mine enough?”
Silence gripped the air, taut and electric. A gasp shattered it—“The Military Commissioner!”
