Monday morning, Marco woke with the familiar ache in his muscles that had become normal. Five weeks at the academy. Five weeks of pushing his body past limits he didn't know existed. But the pain meant progress, meant adaptation, meant he was still here.
Yuki was already up, as always, doing his morning stretches with methodical precision.
"Big week," Yuki said without turning around. "Evaluation day is Friday."
"I know."
"You ready?"
Marco thought about Richard Ashford's "advice," about Dominic's rage barely contained beneath perfect manners, about the article that had made him a story instead of just a driver.
"I have to be."
The morning run felt different. The entire cohort seemed tense, everyone processing that in four days, their futures would be decided by strangers watching them perform. Team principals who could offer contracts or shatter dreams with a single decision.
Dominic set a punishing pace at the front, running like he had something to prove. Carlos struggled to keep up. Even Amélie looked strained by the effort.
Marco stayed in the middle pack, conserving energy. No point burning out before the week even started.
Physical conditioning was brutal. James pushed them harder than usual, his reasoning simple: "If you can perform when you're exhausted, you can perform under pressure. And Friday will be all pressure."
After the gym session, they had thirty minutes before track time. Marco headed to the locker room to change, his mind already on the car setup for today's session.
He opened his locker and froze.
His racing suit had been slashed. Not random damage. Deliberate cuts across the back and arms, rendering it completely unusable.
"What the hell?" Marco pulled out the ruined suit, his hands shaking with anger more than surprise.
Yuki appeared beside him. "When did you last check?"
"Friday. It was fine Friday."
"Weekend. Someone did this over weekend when building was less supervised." Yuki's face was grim. "This is not accident."
Marco thought immediately of Richard Ashford's warning, of Dominic's cold rage after the rankings. But he had no proof, nothing but suspicion.
"I need to report this," Marco said.
"Yes. But first, you need suit for today's session. Can you borrow?"
The session started in twenty minutes. Marco grabbed the ruined suit and headed straight to Valentina's office.
She listened to his explanation without interrupting, her expression growing darker with each detail.
"When did you last see it intact?"
"Friday afternoon. After the track session."
"And you're certain this wasn't accidental? Caught on something, torn during handling?"
Marco laid the suit on her desk. The cuts were clean, precise. Deliberate.
"Someone did this on purpose."
Valentina examined the damage, her jaw tight. "This is sabotage. Unacceptable." She picked up her phone, made a call. "Sarah, I need you in my office. Now. We have a situation."
Sarah Chen arrived within minutes. She examined the suit with the same analytical attention she'd given Marco during his first evaluation.
"Professional cut," she said finally. "Someone who knew what they were doing. These slashes would have rendered the suit unsafe to wear even if you hadn't noticed the damage—the fire-retardant layers are compromised."
Marco felt cold. If he hadn't checked, if he'd just pulled on the suit without looking...
"We need to review security footage," Valentina said. "Find out who accessed the locker room over the weekend."
"Already on it," Sarah replied, typing on her phone. "But Marco needs a suit for this morning's session. We can't let this disrupt his training."
"Use one of the spares from storage," Valentina decided. "It won't fit perfectly, but it'll work for today. We'll order a replacement." She turned to Marco. "I'm sorry this happened. We take incidents like this extremely seriously."
"Do you know who did it?"
"I have suspicions. But I need proof before I make accusations." Valentina's expression was carefully neutral. "Go to storage, get a spare suit. Don't miss your track time. And Marco? Don't discuss this with the other students yet. Let us handle the investigation quietly."
The spare suit was too big in the shoulders and too short in the legs, but it would work. Marco changed quickly, his mind racing. Someone had sabotaged his equipment. Someone wanted him rattled before evaluation day.
When he arrived at the track, the others were already in their cars. Marcus was waiting, looking impatient.
"Venturi, you're late."
"Equipment issue. It's handled."
Marcus studied him for a moment, clearly noticing the ill-fitting suit, but didn't press. "Get in your car. Today's session is race simulation—twenty laps, full field, starting from your current rankings."
Marco climbed into car number 34. The mechanics had it ready, engine warm. But as he settled into the seat, something felt off.
The steering wheel. The angle wasn't right.
"Can you adjust the steering column?" Marco called to the nearest mechanic. "It's not in my usual position."
The mechanic—a guy named Phil who'd been friendly before—looked uncomfortable. "It's in standard position. Same as last week."
"No, it's different. It's tilted wrong."
Phil climbed up to check, his movements oddly hesitant. "I don't see... wait." He peered closer at the adjustment mechanism. "That's strange. The lock bolt is loose. Really loose, like it was never properly tightened."
Marco's stomach dropped. "What does that mean?"
"It means the steering wheel could have shifted during the session. Could have come loose completely at high speed." Phil's face had gone pale. "That shouldn't be possible. These bolts are torqued to spec every time."
Another mechanic joined them, then another. Soon Marcus was there too, examining the issue.
"Pull the car," Marcus ordered. "Don't start it. Get it back to the garage for full inspection."
Marco climbed out, his hands shaking now. First the suit. Now the steering. Two separate attempts to compromise his equipment in one day.
"Someone's trying to hurt you," Amélie said quietly. She'd gotten out of her car, walked over to where Marco stood. "This isn't pranks. This is dangerous."
"I know, I know."
"You need to tell them. Tell Valentina everything."
"I did. About the suit. Now this..." Marco watched the mechanics push his car back toward the garage. "This is too much to be coincidence."
The session continued without him. Marco stood on the pit wall next to Marcus, watching the others race while his car got torn apart by technicians looking for more sabotage.
Dominic drove his session perfectly. Smooth, consistent, fast. He looked over at Marco once when entering the pits, his expression unreadable behind his helmet visor.
After the session, Valentina called an emergency meeting with just Marco, Sarah, and Marcus present.
"The investigation is ongoing," Valentina began. "But I need to be direct with you, Marco. Someone with access to this facility deliberately sabotaged your equipment. Twice. We're reviewing security footage, interviewing staff, checking access logs."
"It's Dominic," Marco said flatly. "Or someone working for him. His father threatened me yesterday. Now this."
"We have no proof it was Dominic," Sarah said carefully. "And accusing a student without evidence could backfire badly."
"The steering issue is particularly concerning," Marcus added. "If that wheel had come loose at speed, in a corner... you could have been seriously injured. Or worse."
The room fell silent. The word. "worse" hung in the air like smoke.
"What do I do?" Marco asked. "I can't race if I don't trust my equipment."
"We're implementing new protocols," Valentina said. "Your car will be locked in a secured garage. Only designated mechanics with verified access will work on it. You'll be present for all setup and inspection. And we're installing additional security cameras in the locker rooms and garage areas."
"That's treating symptoms, not the cause," Marco argued. "Someone here wants me out. If it's not Dominic, then who? And what's to stop them from trying again?"
No one had a good answer for that.
That evening, Marco called Elena. Told her everything about the sabotage, the loose steering bolt, the growing certainty that someone was willing to risk his safety to eliminate him from competition.
"You need to go public with this," Elena said immediately. "Make it a story. Once it's public, whoever's doing it can't hide."
"Valentina wants it kept quiet while they investigate."
"Of course she does. She doesn't want bad publicity for the academy. But Marco, your safety matters more than her public relations." Elena's voice was intense. "If this escalates, if something happens to you, 'we were investigating quietly' won't mean anything."
"What if I'm wrong? What if it's not Dominic, and I accuse him publicly?"
"Then you deal with that. But what if you're right, and you stay quiet, and next time the sabotage works?"
Marco didn't sleep that night. He laid in bed replaying
Marco didn't sleep that night. He lay in bed replaying the day, thinking about the steering wheel that could have failed, about racing at 150 kilometers per hour with equipment someone had tampered with.
Yuki was quiet across the room, but Marco could tell he wasn't sleeping either.
"You should withdraw from evaluation day," Yuki said finally into the darkness. "Is not worth dying for."
"If I withdraw, they win. Whoever's doing this—they win."
"If you die, you lose everything. Winning and losing become meaningless."
"I'm not going to die," Marco said, trying to convince himself as much as Yuki. "They've increased security. They're watching everything now."
"But they didn't catch sabotage first two times. What if there is third time? Fourth time?" Yuki sat up in bed. "I like you, Marco. You are good driver, good person. But no race is worth your life. Remember this."
Marco stared at the ceiling, Yuki's words echoing in his mind. His roommate was right, objectively. The smart thing would be to withdraw, to protect himself, to live to race another day.
But withdrawal meant letting fear win. Meant accepting that money and influence could push him out through intimidation and violence.
Meant proving Richard Ashford right—that Marco wasn't strong enough for this world.
Tuesday morning brought an announcement at breakfast. Valentina stood at the front of the dining hall, her expression severe.
"Yesterday we had a serious security incident involving one student's equipment. I want to be clear: sabotage will not be tolerated at this academy. We're investigating thoroughly, and anyone found responsible will be expelled immediately and potentially face criminal charges." Her gaze swept the room, landing on each student in turn. "If anyone has information about this incident, I expect you to come forward. This isn't a game. Someone could have been badly hurt."
The room was silent. Marco felt ten pairs of eyes on him, everyone doing the math, figuring out he was the target.
Dominic's expression was perfectly innocent, perfectly concerned. If he was responsible, he was an excellent actor.
After breakfast, Marco found himself alone with Maya in the hallway.
"I heard about what happened," she said quietly. "The sabotage. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Shaken, but okay."
"Everyone's talking about it. About who might have done it." She hesitated. "Most people think it was Dominic. Or someone he paid."
"What do you think?"
Maya looked uncomfortable. "I think... I think people with a lot to lose sometimes do desperate things. And you being first in rankings, beating Dominic—he has a lot to lose."
"But no proof."
"No. No proof." She met his eyes. "Just be careful, okay? You represent something important to people like me. Don't let them take that away."
The rest of the week crawled by. Marco's car was kept under literal lock and key. He inspected every bolt, every adjustment, every component before each session. The mechanics understood, didn't take offense. They'd all seen the loose steering bolt.
Wednesday's session went smoothly. Thursday's was flawless. Marco's times were competitive, his confidence slowly returning.
But the sabotage had done its job. He was rattled, distracted, aware of every unusual sound or feeling from the car. Second-guessing himself.
Thursday evening, Valentina pulled Marco aside.
"Security footage was inconclusive. Whoever did this knew where the cameras were." She looked frustrated. "We found no direct evidence linking any student or staff member to the sabotage. The investigation is ongoing, but..."
"But you can't prove anything."
"I'm sorry, Marco. We've done everything we can to secure your equipment going forward. But I can't give you the answers you want."
That night, Marco sat outside the residential building, phone in hand, staring at his father's number. Part of him wanted to call Giuseppe, to hear his voice, to maybe admit that this was harder than he'd expected.
But he didn't call. Because if he called, he'd have to admit the danger. And if Giuseppe knew people were sabotaging Marco's equipment, trying to hurt him...
He'd demand Marco come home. And Marco couldn't do that.
Not when evaluation day was tomorrow.
Not when giving up now meant everything—the sacrifice, the training, the pain—had been for nothing.
Marco looked up at the stars, the same stars that shone over Castellana, over his father's garage, over the life he'd left behind.
Tomorrow, team principals would watch him race. His future would be decided by a single performance.
And someone, somewhere, wanted to make sure that performance ended in failure.
Or worse.
He just had to survive long enough to prove them wrong.