Chapter 1
Cameras found Leo Cross before he’d even fully unbuckled from his car.
Sweat dripped down his back as hands smacked at his shoulder. He wasn't sure if it was because he actually drove a split-second faster than last week or if it was out of sympathy that he didn't get a podium position. Heat still drifted through the air in the paddock garage and it lingered like a ghost around him. Everything was moving too fast for a world that had technically already finished. Mechanics packed tools with disciplined urgency. Someone laughed into a microphone two bays down, their words too perfect and precise, as though they rehearsed it for the next headline.
Leo just stood there. Helmet off and dangling in one hand. Hair damp with sweat and restraint. And his eyes fixed somewhere that wasn’t here.
“Leo.”
One of the PR assistants for his team, Revline Racing, said softly. She was already holding the script in her hand like a lifeline.
“Media in five.”
He nodded and smiled as though he was enthusiastic, but the truth was it went through one ear and out the other. Leo really tried to not think about it. What was the point? Cameras were part of the job. His phone vibrated in his hand and when he looked down, he wasn’t at all surprised by the name that popped up on his screen.
Dad: Spire was two tenths faster through turn 4. Fix it.
He quickly put his phone away and moved towards the press conference room. The corridor to hospitality was bright in that expensive way Monesca Harbour Street Track always was. Everything was white porcelain tiles, polished glass and sponsor logos arranged like religion. Every surface reflected him back in fragments.
Leo the World Formula Championship driver.
Leo the Revline Racing brand.
Leo the speed machine.
It was as though he weren’t even a person anymore in here. Somewhere behind him, laughter rose again. Leo turned around and wished he hadn’t. It was another racer, Jules Spire and this guy was everything Leo wasn’t. Jules was loud and easy, already surrounded and already performing victory like it belonged to him alone. He ate up the publicity like he was completely made for it. He loved it all; The money, the parties, the name brands and the attention. The worst part of it all? Jules was his teammate at Revline.
“Good race today.”
Jules nodded and pretended he cared, but Leo knew better than to believe his smile. Revline Racing had an odd philosophy.
May the best driver win.
This meant no first or second seat drivers like in other teams. This also meant there was no structure, no rules and sometimes, a tense idea of what teamwork meant. Everybody knew what it really meant to have no designated seats. Fuck, the tabloids had already exhausted the topic.
It was him versus Jules. All the fucking time and at every, single race.
“You too.”
Leo eventually replied and Jules went back to speaking to the woman he always brought with him to every PR event. She was like some sort of life coach or something to him. The sound of them speaking followed Leo for half a second before it died behind a closing door.
The media pen itself was warmer than it needed to be. Leo squinted for a minute into the lights which always shone too brightly. Everything in his mind screamed ‘get the fuck out of here’ but just as he had practised countless times before, he smiled and waved instead. People he didn’t know tried very hard not to stare as he walked to the leather couch branded with WFC logos. Three other drivers were already there and looked equally bored. Cameras were positioned like they were waiting for confession, not answers and a microphone was shoved into his hand before he could get comfortable.
“Leo. Great race today.”
Someone called from behind a microphone in the crowd, but all he could think about was his father’s text message. Leo opened his mouth to say something, but the next question had already hit.
“Are you satisfied with the result today Leo?”
He couldn’t help the pause and almost kicked himself for it. It was long enough to count as hesitation. Long enough for it to become the next headline. Leo’s phone felt warmer than ever in his pocket, almost like the words were trying to burn a hole through his clothes in reminder.
You were slow. You were useless. Fix it.
He cleared his throat.
“We maximised what we had.”
His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Another question came immediately.
“Do you feel you had the pace to challenge Spire today?”
Jules.
Even the name landed differently in the room. Leo blinked once.
“We’ll analyse it with the team.”
Safe.
He needed to keep this as safe as possible. Nothing to cause harm to him or the team. He knew the rhythm now. Don’t reveal friction, don’t expose gaps and definitely don’t let them see where the system hurts. The system was watching them at all times. Somewhere beyond the cameras, he could feel his father in it. Not physically, but in the shape of expectation that always arrived before the words did. A text would come later on his phone about the way he hesitated at that question. He just knew it.
Leo gave one last neutral, effortlessly practiced smile to the audience and then stepped out before they could decide he was finished.
Monesca city at night was like a painted illusion of shimmering colour that refused to ever end. Neon spilled across the harbour like liquid glass. The air smelled faintly of salt, fuel, and money that never learned how to sleep and every bar buzzed with people dressed in only the best brands.
Leo walked alone through it, hood up, hands in pockets and moving without urgency. It was fun in the club earlier with the others, but it was the moments like this, the moments after, that meant more to him. His eyes watched how the yachts bobbed in the water under the starry night. For one small moment, he could just breathe and actually enjoy the view. That didn’t happen very often. Usually cameras followed him everywhere. That was the strangest part of being famous. Visibility disappeared when it wasn’t profitable and right now? He was being far too calm for any magazine or reporter.
His penthouse tower eventually rose above the coastline. He remembered choosing this one because of how open it was. The whole thing was made of glass that misted up if he clicked a button. Even more impressive though, was that it was far enough from everyone and everything else that he felt like he could be a normal person for once. The elevator ride was quiet enough to hear his own breathing.
Up.
Up.
And when he got to the top, Leo smiled into the silence.
Finally.
He closed the door behind him and stood still for a moment, like his body needed confirmation that it was allowed to stop performing.
Then the mask dropped.
Leo walked into the dark living space and didn’t turn on the lights. City glow filtered through the glass walls and the light almost bubbled across the floor. It made everything look underwater. Leo sat down on the edge of the sofa and poured himself a glass of sparkling water. Just as he brought it up for a sip, his phone buzzed. Not once, but twice. The glass thudded against the table. He didn’t need to look at the text to know who it was from.
Dad: You made yourself look weak today in front of the cameras. I’ve called Dylan. You’re doing the meet-and-greet at Sandford Track to clean up your image.
“Fuck.”
Leo stared at the text for a long time. Of course his father and team principle would see every tiny detail of his as a reason to “clean him up” and of course this meant he had to sit and pretend to be happy around fans who did nothing but point and judge and focus on everything he wasn’t. Maybe he was being harsh. Not all fans were bad. Either way, Jules was supposed to do the meet-and-greet at the next race. Not him.
Leo stared at the text from his father for a long time. It honestly didn’t surprise him anymore. The man didn’t actually care about anything or anybody but himself and Revline Racing. He quickly swiped to the next text. It was a completely different story.
Veronica: Hey Sexy. You left the club really early tonight. Wanna send me your address and I’ll come over? XXX Vee
Leo sipped his water and typed back.
Leo: Sure, Vee.
He sent her a pin of his location and a clearance certificate to show security at the gates. Then he set the phone down and picked up the tablet instead.
Telemetry data filled the screen. It was all lines, graphs, precision turned into language. Every corner he drove had been reduced to math. Every mistake he made preserved in perfect clarity. He scrubbed through Turn 4. Again and again. Leo didn’t even notice himself pinching at the skin on his legs every time his stats went down.
Outside, Monesca kept glowing like nothing had changed, but inside the glass suite? Leo Cross sat in the dark and tried to locate the exact moment he had stopped feeling like a person and started feeling like output. Sometimes he tried to imagine what life would be like in a normal home, with normal walls and ordinary parents who actually felt excited to speak to you. Everything in his life felt curated.
Imagine a world where things actually felt lived in?
The thought faded as soon as the doorbell buzzed.
5:30 AM hit like a different world entirely. Maybe it was, considering it was the other side of the world to Monesca.
Evie Collins had rolled out of bed exactly thirty minutes before, and somehow still managed to wear a smile on her face despite feeling exhausted.
Not only did she have to write an essay about micro-expressions vs syntactic choice for her 4pm class later that day, but she also stayed up to watch her absolute celebrity crush, Jules Spire, race in Monesca. The guy was a mean driver, but that wasn’t why Evie liked him so much. He actually looked happy to be there. His smile was what made him handsome. Sure, his short and clean black hair and green eyes certainly helped. Any girl would be blind to not think he was hot, but Evie noticed things other girls didn’t.
Character.
Monday mornings meant she would start her day at the flower shop instead of at school. It definitely perhaps added chaos to her life to have to work at the same time as being in her final year of university, but who cared? The extra cash went a long way and she loved the flowers. That was always a reason to be grateful, right?
She rubbed her hands together and blew steam into them as she walked across the farmers market to her little stall. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, crates were unloaded loudly, men shouted prices like they were arguing and the street became alive with people bargaining better prices for different produce. She pulled her coat tighter with wet gloves and lifted another box of stems. Someone bumped past her without apology and she adjusted her footing and kept going.
“Busy mornin, eh?”
The guy from the fish stall across hers commented. Usually he was a lot quieter, but now he seemed to talk on and on with whoever was listening. He also looked so tired, almost like he hadn’t had any sleep in nights. This made her frown as she fluffed up some petals on the pink roses.
“Willis, how are you?”
He shrugged as he packed salmon fillets into a tray for a customer.
“The missus has the flu and kicked me out the bed for snoring too loudly.”
Evie chuckled and started gathering some of the last stems of flowers. That would make sense why he was behaving differently than normal.
By the end of the morning it was always the flowers with little defects that remained. She always took them home for her mum, but today she had something else up her sleeve. She quickly tied a pink ribbon around them into a bow and made the bouquet look pretty before she marched across the street to Willis. He was also packing up now and gave her a side eye as he noticed the flowers.
“For your missus.”
“Evie -”
She shoved them into him and shook her finger.
“Ah ah, Willis. These are guaranteed to earn you a spot back in her good graces. Give her these with some of that delicious fish soup you make and I am 100% certain she will be feeling better in no time.”
Willis hesitated, even though the offer was tempting.
“What about your mother then? She always excited to get a bunch.”
Her mother did love the weekly flowers, but today felt different. Evie smiled and shrugged.
“You need them more.”
The fishmonger took the blooms and smiled.
“She’ll love these. What a treat.”
Evie smiled.
By the time she left the market, her arms ached and all she wanted to do was flop onto the couch. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to do that…
Home was even louder than the market. Possibly even the loudest place she knew. The front door barely closed before the noise started. Someone argued in the hallway, a chair scraped across the loose bits of the wooden floor, a kettle shrieked from being left on the stove for too long and the bathroom door locked with no explanation except urgency.
“Evie, move, I’ve got work -”
Her older brother pushed past her in the doorway and almost knocked over the flowers she had bought from the supermarket for her mum.
“Hey! Watch it, Jamie!”
“Sorry, Ev!”
He looked over his shoulder apologetically before rushing off.
“Christ, it’s always crazy in the morning here -”
Her mum’s voice cut through it all, already half-dressed for a healthcare shift, hair pulled back too quickly and grabbing the car keys from the rack on the wall.
“I’ll be late again for work at this rate.”
She looked at Evie with a warm smile.
“Hello my darling. Have a good early shift at the market today?”
Evie made a sound and nodded. Her mum’s expression softened as she noticed the flowers, then it was replaced with disbelief when she saw what Evie had paid for the bunch of pretty country blossoms.
“Evie!”
“Don’t start, mum. I like getting you flowers.”
Her mum gave her a hug and Evie held on for a bit longer before her mum left for work. Not without a kiss on her head. She admired that woman so much. She was a hero on two legs and an anchor in this family.
On her way to the kitchen, Evie stepped sideways to avoid a collision with one of her other brothers coming out of the bathroom, Sam. His hair was wet and he had an attitude that filled the room more than his presence did. Evie knew he was going through some stuff with his girlfriend, so she didn’t react. Instead, she waited. That was also the rule with a family of six in a house that only had one shower.
In the kitchen, the smell of oil lingered from last night’s cooking. Splatters hadn’t been wiped away yet and the red and white checkered counter had begun peeling at the corners. The house functioned like a system running just above failure but never quite breaking. Evie tied her hair up and started moving across the space. It was her turn to do the chores downstairs. The washing, stacking and resetting of the small chaos so that their downstairs could feel somewhat useable again. Sometimes she wished they were one of those fancy families on television who had people to cook and clean and do everything for them. They were lucky bastards! But nope. This had all become part of her routine by now. The house was small and mess gathered so quickly. She cleaned every dirty mug she could find, wiped up the tomato sauce and scrubbed at the pot left above the stove.
Outside, a delivery truck reversed loudly down the street and started honking loudly.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Life didn’t pause for Evie either. It just wasn’t so elegant.
The front door opened harder than it needed to.
“There’s my little sprout!”
Her father stepped in like he was carrying something too big for the doorway. His jacket was smothered in oil and his face was red and tired. That didn’t stop the enormous grin on his face though. That was always her dad. A giant teddy bear who loved his family and did everything he possibly could for them. Even if it meant nothing was left behind for him.
“I’ve got something for all of us!”
He said, already breathless.
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
Evie looked up slowly, cloth still in her hand.
“If it’s another broken boiler part, I swear -”
“No, no, no.”
He cut in, laughing now.
“Better. Way better.”
He reached into his pocket like he was about to reveal something illegal and then pulled it out.
Laminated passes. Bright, official and covered with logos she didn’t recognise at first.
Evie’s eyes squinted closer then widened.
It was VIP Paddock access to a World Formula Championship race.
Her father held them up like they were lottery tickets then he laughed something silly. It filled the house with joy she had only ever heard once before when her mum announced she was pregnant with her younger brother. Sam came rushing down the stairs to see what the commotion was all about and Evie smiled at her dad.
“Kids. I won a scratch card!”
He said, still grinning like it hadn’t fully sunk in.
“Can you believe that? Me. Lucky bastard for once.”
The house went quieter without meaning to. Evie looked between her dad and Sam with some hesitation. Then her eyes landed on the passes. There were four of them.
“You’re joking, dad?”
She said, but her dad looked too proud and too happy to be joking.
“I’m not joking, Sprout.”
He replied.
“We get to go to Sandford Track for the whole weekend. Real seats. Proper access. We’ll see them up close…”
“Kids, are you even listening to me? We get to actually meet a driver from Revline Racing!”
Her dad rambled on to her brothers while Evie thought about it. Nothing he said really landed yet.
Them? As in everyone?
But she only saw four tickets. Heavens above…
Did this mean she would actually get to meet Jules Spire? She quickly reached down to check on her phone which driver was featuring at the meet-and-greet and lo and behold, Jules’s name stood on the schedule. That’s what the official website said, so it had to be true, right? Evie didn’t know whether to jump for joy at this or get sick in the kitchen sink.
Then there was the next thing. Sandford Track? That was a whole different country and across the channel. What about getting there? What about accommodation and food and and…
Sam spoke before the reality dawned fully onto Evie.
“Dad, we can’t afford -”
“It’s already paid for Sam.”
Their father said quickly.
“Well. Kind of. It’s done. It’s done, alright?”
“Dad.”
Sam tried to reason with him now.
“Kids. We can drive. We can pitch a tent. Mom can make sandwiches. We can take turns going on different days. It’s fine!”
Evie should have said no. That was the logical answer, but her father was looking at her like this mattered more than it should. Like this was something he could give them that wasn’t broken or late or barely holding together. She couldn’t be the one to break his dream, even though she somehow thought her mum might have to do it. She sighed before smiling at her old man.
“Fine. When do we tell mom?”
Her father’s grin widened like that was enough.
