The atmosphere at the academy shifted after contract announcements. The cohort was no longer ten students united by shared struggle—they were now competitors heading to different teams, some with bright futures, others with uncertainty.
Marco had two weeks left at the academy before reporting to Apex Racing's headquarters. Two weeks to prepare, to train, to mentally ready himself for what came next.
But first, he had to survive one final academy evaluation.
"End-of-program assessment," Valentina announced Friday morning. "One last comprehensive test before you leave us. Full race simulation—twenty laps, mixed conditions, technical inspection beforehand. Your results go into our records and get shared with your new teams. Consider it your final report card."
The assessment was scheduled for Sunday. That gave them two days to prepare, to study the track configuration, to get their minds right.
Saturday morning, Marco went to the garage early. He wanted time alone with his car, wanted to go through his pre-race ritual without distraction. The building was quiet—most students were still at breakfast or in the gym.
He approached his assigned garage bay and stopped.
The door was ajar. Just slightly, but enough to notice.
Marco's instincts screamed warning. He'd locked it himself last night after final inspection. Had watched the door close, heard the lock engage.
He pushed the door open carefully.
Car number 34 sat in the bay, looking normal at first glance. But something felt wrong. The floor around the car was too clean—someone had wiped away footprints, signs of activity.
Marco walked around the car slowly, looking for anything out of place. Everything seemed fine until he crouched to check the undercarriage.
Fluid. A small puddle beneath the engine bay, still wet.
Marco's blood went cold. He grabbed his phone and called Phil directly.
"I need you in my garage. Now. Something's wrong."
Phil arrived within five minutes, took one look at the fluid, and immediately called for backup. Within ten minutes, three mechanics were examining the car while Marco stood back, heart pounding.
"Brake line," Phil said finally, his face pale. "Someone deliberately loosened the connection. Not enough to leak immediately, but under pressure, under racing conditions..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
"How bad?" Marco asked, though he already knew.
"Bad. Really bad. You'd have had brakes for maybe five laps, then gradual failure. By lap ten, you'd have basically nothing." Phil stood, looking shaken. "Marco, if you'd driven this car in Sunday's assessment... at racing speed, in mixed conditions, with no brakes..."
The implications hung in the air like poison. This wasn't sabotage to make him lose. This was sabotage that could have killed him.
"Who has access to this garage?" Marco demanded.
"Students and designated staff only. But the lock..." Phil examined the door. "It's not broken. Someone used a key or picked it."
They called Valentina immediately. She arrived with Sarah Chen and two security personnel, all of them grim-faced.
"This is the third incident," Valentina said, her voice tight with controlled anger. "Racing suit, steering wheel, now this. Someone is escalating."
"It's Dominic," Marco said flatly. "Or someone working for him. We all know it."
"Knowing and proving are different things." Sarah was already reviewing security footage on her tablet. "Let's see what the cameras show."
But the cameras, again, showed nothing useful. The angle of Marco's garage bay had a blind spot—something the saboteur clearly knew about. They could see someone approaching the area around 2 AM, but the figure was careful to stay in shadows, wearing dark clothes and a hood.
"Height and build could match several students," Sarah said, frustration clear in her voice. "Without a clear face shot, this doesn't prove anything."
"So what?" Marco's voice rose despite himself. "Someone tries to kill me three times and we just... what? Pretend we don't know who's responsible?"
"We can't accuse a student without evidence," Valentina said. "Even with strong suspicion. Richard Ashford would sue us into oblivion if we expelled his son based on speculation."
"But you can cancel the assessment. Keep everyone away from the cars until we figure this out."
Valentina and Sarah exchanged glances. Finally, Sarah spoke.
"Canceling would be admitting we can't protect our students. It would damage the academy's reputation irreparably." She held up a hand as Marco started to protest. "But we can implement new security. Your car will be kept in a locked, monitored area. Only you and designated mechanics will have access. Armed security will be present overnight."
"Armed security," Marco repeated. "Because someone's trying to kill me and we're more worried about reputation than safety."
"We're worried about both," Valentina said firmly. "Marco, I understand your frustration. But we're doing everything we can within our constraints. If you feel unsafe, you can withdraw from the assessment. No one would blame you."
Withdrawal. The word hung there, tempting and terrible. Walk away, stay safe, let the saboteur win without ever being caught.
"No," Marco said. "I'm not withdrawing. But I want security footage of my car twenty-four-seven. I want to be present for every inspection. And I want it on record that if something happens to me, you knew there was a threat."
After the meeting, Marco found himself alone in the garage, staring at the car that had almost been his death sentence. His hands were shaking—not from fear exactly, but from the delayed shock of understanding how close he'd come.
"Hey." Amélie's voice. She stood in the doorway, hesitant. "I heard about what happened. Are you okay?"
"Someone tried to kill me, Amélie. Actually kill me. That's not sabotage anymore, that's attempted murder."
"I know." She came closer, her expression serious. "For what it's worth, I don't think it was Dominic directly."
"What?"
"Hear me out. Dominic's an asshole, but he's not stupid. Directly sabotaging your car when everyone already suspects him? That's too obvious." She leaned against the workbench. "But his father? Richard Ashford? He has resources, he has people. He could hire someone to do this and Dominic would never even know."
Marco considered it. It made terrible sense. Richard keeping his son's hands clean while eliminating the competition.
"Either way, someone wants me gone. Badly enough to risk killing me."
"Then you need to be smarter than them. Document everything, stay visible, make it impossible for them to act without being caught." Amélie pulled out her phone. "Give me your number. From now until Sunday's assessment, text me every hour. Just a simple 'I'm good.' If I don't hear from you, I raise hell. Deal?"
"You don't have to—"
"I do, actually. Because if something happens to you, it proves that money and power can literally get away with murder in this sport. And I'm not okay with that." She met his eyes. "Besides, you're the only person here who doesn't treat me differently because my father used to race. I'd like to keep you alive."
They exchanged numbers. As Amélie left, Yuki appeared, having clearly heard everything.
"I am staying with you," Yuki announced. "Every inspection, every garage visit. You don't go anywhere alone until after assessment."
"Yuki—"
"Not discussing. Is decided." His expression was uncharacteristically fierce. "You are my friend. In Japan, we take friendship seriously. No one harms my friend without facing me."
Marco felt something tight in his chest loosen slightly. He wasn't alone in this. People were watching out for him.
But the question remained: would it be enough?
That evening, Marco called Elena and told her everything. She listened in silence, then her response was immediate.
"I'm writing about this. Tonight. Everything—the three sabotage attempts, the brake line, the security failures."
"Valentina won't like that."
"I don't care what Valentina likes. They're putting PR ahead of your safety. Someone needs to apply pressure." Elena's voice was firm. "Once this is public, they can't hide it. If something happens to you after I publish, they're legally and publicly liable. That's your protection."
"What if Richard Ashford sues you? Or the academy?"
"Let him try. I have documentation, witnesses, and a very good lawyer." She paused. "Marco, I need your explicit permission to publish this. It's your story. But I think it's the right move."
Marco thought about it. Going public meant exposing the ugly side of the academy, might damage relationships, could make enemies of powerful people.
But staying quiet had almost gotten him killed.
"Do it," he said. "Publish everything."
Elena's article went live at midnight Saturday. Marco read it on his phone, lying in bed while Yuki slept across the room.
"The Cost of Competition: Sabotage and Safety at Apex Academy"
By Elena Marchesi
The article detailed all three incidents, quoted anonymous sources within the academy, raised questions about security protocols and oversight. It stopped short of naming suspects but made the implications clear.
By Sunday morning, the article had exploded across racing forums and social media. The academy was trending on Twitter. Journalists were calling Valentina for comment.
At breakfast, the atmosphere was toxic. Everyone had read the article. Everyone knew what it meant.
Dominic sat with Carlos, their conversation low and intense. When Marco entered the dining hall, Dominic's gaze tracked him like a predator watching prey.
Finally, Dominic stood and walked over. Carlos tried to stop him but Dominic shrugged him off.
"That article," Dominic said, standing over Marco's table. "You fed her that information."
"I told her the truth about what happened."
"You made me look like a criminal. Made my father look like some kind of mob boss."
"The article didn't name you. If you feel attacked, maybe ask yourself why." Marco met his eyes. "Someone loosened my brake line, Dominic. Someone tried to kill me. If that wasn't you, then you should be just as angry as I am that it happened."
"And if it was me?" Dominic's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to race you. Beat you. Prove that talent matters more than money." Marco stood, bringing them face to face. "And then I'm going to do it again. And again. Until everyone knows that your daddy's billions couldn't make you better than a mechanic's son from nowhere."
For a moment, Marco thought Dominic might actually throw a punch. His jaw was clenched, his hands fisted, his entire body radiating barely controlled rage.
Then Valentina's voice cut through the tension. "Mr. Ashford. Mr. Venturi. My office. Now."
They sat on opposite sides of Valentina's desk like schoolboys sent to the principal. Sarah Chen was there too, along with someone Marco didn't recognize—a woman in an expensive suit with a legal pad.
"This is Jennifer Morrison, academy legal counsel," Valentina said. "She's here because Elena Marchesi's article has created a situation that requires careful handling."
"The article is accurate," Marco said immediately. "Everything in it happened."
"We're not disputing the facts," Jennifer said. "We're concerned about the implications and the public response. The academy is fielding calls from concerned parents, potential investors, and now the FIA is asking questions about our safety protocols."
"Good," Marco said. "Maybe that'll force actual changes."
"Mr. Venturi," Jennifer's tone was sharp. "I understand you're frustrated. But publicity like this damages the academy that gave you your opportunity. It damages all the students here. And if it leads to legal action from families like the Ashfords, it could destroy the entire program."
"So we should have covered it up? Pretended everything was fine while someone tried to kill me?"
"No one is suggesting that," Valentina interjected. "But going to the media before allowing us to complete our investigation was... premature."
"Your investigation wasn't finding anything. Three incidents, zero arrests, zero consequences." Marco looked at Dominic. "And meanwhile, the person responsible just keeps getting away with it."
"I didn't touch your car," Dominic said coldly. "I didn't sabotage anything. I don't need to cheat to beat you."
"Then who did? Who else has motive, opportunity, and resources?"
"Maybe you did it yourself," Dominic shot back. "Create a victim narrative, get media sympathy, blame the rich kid everyone already hates. Worked pretty well for you, didn't it?"
Marco started to rise from his chair but Valentina's hand slammed down on her desk.
"Enough! Both of you." She took a breath, visibly controlling herself. "Here's what's going to happen. Today's assessment will proceed under maximum security. Both your cars will be inspected by independent mechanics hired specifically for this purpose. Armed security will be present. Every inch of this facility will be under surveillance."
"And after the assessment?" Marco asked.
"After the assessment, you both leave for your respective teams. This becomes Apex Racing's problem, not ours." Valentina's expression was tired. "We've done what we can. The rest is beyond our control."
Outside her office, Dominic stopped Marco in the hallway.
"You know what's funny?" Dominic said quietly. "You actually think you're the hero in this story. The underdog fighting the system. But you're just like everyone else—willing to do whatever it takes to win. Going to the media, creating drama, playing the victim. That's not honor. That's not talent. That's just another kind of manipulation."
"At least I'm not trying to kill people."
"Neither am I. But believe whatever you want." Dominic started to walk away, then turned back. "See you at Apex Racing, teammate. This is going to be a fun season."
The assessment began at 2 PM with unprecedented security. Independent mechanics inspected every car. Armed guards stood at each garage bay. Cameras covered every angle.
Marco's car was certified safe. The brake lines were new, properly connected, triple-checked. Everything was perfect.
But he still hesitated before getting in.
"It's clean," Phil assured him. "I personally inspected every system. You're safe."
Safe. The word felt hollow after everything that had happened.
Marco climbed into the cockpit, ran through his pre-drive checks. Around him, the other nine students were doing the same. Twenty laps, mixed conditions, one final test.
The formation lap felt surreal. This was the last time these ten drivers would race together. After today, they'd be scattered across different teams, different championships, different futures.
Lights out.
Marco got a clean start and settled into third behind Amélie and Dominic. The race played out like a chess match—strategic positioning, tire management, waiting for opportunities.
Lap ten, it started raining. The track surface became treacherous, grip levels changing corner to corner.
This was Marco's element. Wet conditions rewarded instinct and feel over textbook precision. He hunted Amélie through the spray, found an opportunity at turn seven, made the pass stick.
Second place now, with Dominic ahead.
Fifteen laps in, Marco caught him. They ran nose-to-tail for three laps, neither giving an inch, both driving at the absolute limit in conditions that punished any mistake.
Final lap, turn three. Dominic braked a fraction too deep, just a tiny error. Marco was there instantly, inside line, committed.
They went through the corner side by side, neither yielding, water spraying from their tires, the entire academy holding its breath.
Marco had the better exit. He pulled ahead, drove the final corners perfectly, and crossed the line in first place.
His final race at the academy. His final statement.
Winner.
In the garage afterward, removing his helmet, Marco felt strangely empty. He'd won, had proven himself one last time, but it felt hollow after everything that had happened.
"Good race," Dominic said, suddenly beside him. His expression was unreadable. "You're fast in the wet. I'll give you that."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me. That wasn't a compliment, just an observation." Dominic turned to leave, then paused. "Apex Racing has two cars, Marco. But only one of them is going to have priority development, factory support, and the team's full attention. That's going to be mine. You'll be racing my hand-me-down setup, with whatever budget is left over, getting whatever attention the team can spare."
"So?"
"So enjoy this win. It's probably your last one." Dominic walked away, leaving Marco alone with his hollow victory.
That evening, the cohort had a farewell dinner. Everyone was leaving tomorrow—some to their new teams, others back home to figure out next steps. The energy was bittersweet, celebrating and mourning at the same time.
Valentina gave a speech about how proud she was, how they'd all accomplished something remarkable. She didn't mention the sabotage, the article, or the tension that had poisoned their final weeks.
After dinner, Marco found himself outside with Amélie and Yuki, looking at the track one last time.
"We did it," Amélie said quietly. "Started as ten strangers, now we're professional racing drivers."
"Some of us more professional than others," Yuki added.
"Yeah. Some of us got development seats, some got race seats, some got nothing." Amélie looked at Marco. "And some of us survived attempted murder. That's quite a range of outcomes."
"Do you really think someone tried to kill you?" Yuki asked. "Or just wanted to hurt you badly?"
"Does it matter?" Marco replied. "Either way, someone wanted me gone badly enough to risk my life."
They stood in silence, the weight of that truth settling over them.
"What happens now?" Amélie asked. "At Apex Racing. With Dominic as your teammate."
"I race him. Beat him. Do my job." Marco tried to sound more confident than he felt. "What else can I do?"
"You could request a transfer. Find a different team."
"And prove that intimidation works? That money and threats can push out talent?" Marco shook his head. "No. I'm going to Apex Racing. I'm going to race alongside someone who hates me, in a car that's probably worse than his, with a team that's probably biased toward him. And I'm going to beat him anyway."
"That's either very brave or very stupid," Yuki observed.
"Probably both," Marco agreed.
The next morning, Marco packed his belongings—still just one small suitcase, still everything he owned in the world. The academy had given him experience, training, and a professional contract. But it had also given him enemies, trauma, and the knowledge that succeeding in this sport meant more than just being fast.
Before leaving, he stopped by Valentina's office one last time.
"Thank you," he said simply. "For the opportunity. For believing I belonged here."
"You earned your place, Marco. Everything that happened after—the politics, the sabotage, the complications—that wasn't about you not belonging. That was about other people being threatened by how much you belonged." She stood, extended her hand. "Good luck at Apex Racing. You're going to need it."
"Because of Dominic?"
"Because of everything. Professional racing is even harder than the academy. The pressure is greater, the stakes are higher, and the politics are worse. But I believe you can handle it." She smiled slightly. "You're stubborn enough, at least."
Marco left the academy in a taxi, watching the facility disappear in the rearview mirror. Six weeks of his life, compressed into intensity and drama and transformation.
He was no longer the mechanic's son from Castellana, fixing broken cars and dreaming of something more.
He was Marco Venturi, professional racing driver for Apex Racing F3.
And in two weeks, the season would begin.
Ready or not.