ACROSS THE FINISH LINE [Complete & Revised]

Chapter 12: Fault Lines

Singapore was humidity and headlights and heat that pressed against the skin like regret.

The city gleamed like molten gold poured onto steel—opulent, overwhelming, inescapable. Even the air shimmered with ambition and pressure. Marina Bay wasn't just another race; it was a declaration. A battleground lit by artificial stars.

The Marina Bay Street Circuit was a night race—one of beauty and brutality. Long corners. Concrete walls. No room for error.

It was unforgiving. One misstep, one lapse in concentration, and the walls claimed you. No runoff. No second chances.

Elena Reyes had never feared walls.

She'd scaled them, raced between them, built them around her heart. But lately, she wasn't sure which ones she'd broken through... and which ones were collapsing back on her.

FalconTech Motorhome – Pre-Race Week

"Elena," said Daniel Chen, FalconTech's Technical Director, stepping into her office with the firm calm of someone walking into a fire with a cup of water. "We need to talk."

She didn't look up from the telemetry readouts. "If this is about Jean-Luc's brake feedback—"

"It's not." The door closed with a subtle finality. "It's about control."

That word. It struck her spine like a whip. She sat back slowly, watching him.

"Control?" she repeated.

"You've had too much of it. Now the board wants to review your responsibilities. They're questioning whether the engineering lead should also be the strategist."

Her heartbeat dropped into her stomach.

"I've done both for two years," she said, voice flat.

"And now we're in a title fight. Under scrutiny. With one driver emotionally distant and the other... emotionally entangled."

Her eyes narrowed. "So they think I'm distracted."

Daniel exhaled. "I think they're scared. And scared people make decisions."

She stood, every movement deliberate.

"I'm not stepping down."

"I didn't ask you to," he said gently. "But I won't be able to shield you much longer."

"Then don't," she said. "Let them come for me."

Her voice didn't tremble. Her jaw didn't slack.

But inside?

She wasn't sure if she could stand when the storm hit.

Ferrari Hotel Suite – That Evening

Luca stood on the balcony, shirtless, a towel draped around his neck, watching the glittering lights of Singapore swirl in a gold and steel storm. He looked like a painting—worn, beautiful, and slightly broken.

Elena stepped into the room silently, the door clicking shut behind her. She walked toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against the damp skin of his back.

"Hey," she said softly.

He turned, tired eyes lighting up. "You came."

"I always do."

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, lingering.

"I saw the reports," he said. "They're trying to cut your power."

"They're trying to protect the team."

"No," he said, bitter. "They're trying to protect the narrative. That you're too close to me. That you can't think straight."