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ALEXANDER

T he atmosphere at the Las Vegas Grand Prix was electric. The lights of the Strip shimmered in the distance, casting a neon glow over the track. Even as I strapped into the car, the buzz of the crowd was palpable, charging the air with adrenaline. But beneath the excitement, I could feel the lingering edge of last week’s crash tugging at my confidence. The images of the impact replayed in my mind when I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t let that get to me now. Not here. Not tonight.

Qualifying hadn’t been ideal. I placed mid-grid, eighth, but a necessary penalty for the much-needed car upgrades pushed me back to twelfth. A gut punch, sure, but I knew I had a strong car under me. Simon had reminded me of that a dozen times this weekend. I was buzzing with energy; I had woken up with Lucia in my arms, looking like a painting with her blonde hair cascading down her bare back. I had left rather early. Nicola had brought Gianna back over from their sleepover. Lucia had been getting dressed for the race, tugging a light blue dress on before I left. I barely had time to scribble on the hotel stationery and hide it under her phone on the nightstand before she noticed.

You look pretty today. I like you in blue.

I liked leaving her notes; they were my own version of her affirmation cards. So she could be reminded of how amazing she was, even if it was little things.

“All right, Alex, starting from P12,” Simon’s voice came through the comms as I reviewed the track map one last time in the garage. “You’ve got the pace to make it to the front. Clean overtakes, smart moves, and we can turn this around, points are close.”

“I’m not just making it to the front. I’m taking the whole thing.” My tone was confident, but inside, I was still grappling with the what-ifs. Simon caught my hesitation.

“You’ve done it before,” he said firmly. “You can do it again.”

The start was everything in a race like this, and I nailed mine. Off the line, I squeezed into P10 by the first turn, narrowly avoiding a scrap with another driver. The upgrades to the car felt incredible. Responsive and fast, just the edge I needed to claw my way up. Each lap was a calculated attack: late braking here, finding extra grip there, threading the needle through tight gaps, and managing my tires.

By the halfway mark, I’d pushed into P4, the adrenaline drowning out every doubt. My crew was on point, a lightning-fast pit stop setting me up to chase the lead pack. The final laps were a blur of precision and chaos. Overtaking the car in P2 took everything I had. My tires screaming, the car dancing on the edge of control, but it was worth it.

And then, with two laps to go, I saw my opportunity. The leader hesitated coming out of the second chicane, and I pounced. Timing it perfectly, I took the inside line and surged ahead. My heart thundered in my chest as I crossed the finish line in P1, the roar of the crowd exploding in my ears.

The victory was massive. Coming from P12 to P1 wasn’t just a statement, it was damn redemption. The pit crew was already cheering as I pulled into the paddock, and my thoughts immediately jumped to Lucia and Gia.

I climbed out of the car, standing in the front and cheering with the crowd. Pulling my helmet off, I looked. My eyes scanned the crowd at the barrier, and then I saw her. Lucia, her smile brighter than all the Vegas lights combined, with Gia perched on her hip, waving excitedly.

I didn’t think; I just moved. Closing the distance to the barrier, I reached out for her. She passed Gia to Nicola and leaned into my outstretched arms, her laughter mixing with my own exhilarated shouts.

“Come here,” I said, hauling her over the low wall in one smooth motion. She barely had time to protest before I wrapped my arms around her, spinning her around.

“You did it!” she exclaimed, her voice thick with pride and emotion.

Instead of responding, I took her face in my hands and kissed her. Hard, deep, and with every ounce of adrenaline still coursing through me. Her hands gripped my shoulders, steadying us both as the world roared around us. The moment was ours, untouchable and perfect.

When I pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining. “You’re incredible,” she whispered.

“With my girls by my side?” I grinned. “Anything’s possible.”

As I held Lucia in my arms, the world around us seemed to blur. The noise of the crowd, the cheers of the crew, the cameras flashing—it all faded into the background. It was just her, her smile, her warmth grounding me in a way nothing else could.

My heart was still racing, though not just from the victory. There was something about her, about this moment, that made me feel untouchable. Invincible. Like I could take on anything the world threw at me. The crash from last week, the doubts that had crept in—they were gone. It didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was this high, this unshakable certainty that I could do it. I would do it.

The thought of the championship flickered through my mind, and a fire lit in my chest.

One more podium.

That was all I needed to secure my sixth world title. Those points would shoot me high enough in front of Theo Bauer to claim the drivers championship for the year.

It felt surreal to even think about it. I’d dreamed of this as a kid, racing go-karts on dusty tracks, pretending the stakes were as high as they were now. My dad cheering me on from the sidelines. I felt that ache of missing him so frequently. It felt like a permanent hole in my life and probably would always be, but it was quelled by Lucia and Gianna being here for me. In a way, I knew I would make my dad proud. I called him every week even though it had been over a year since he remembered who I was. At this point, I think he thought I was just a man who did weekly check-ins. He talked about his art classes and how he hated the new oatmeal in the mornings. Every time I called was different. This week he told me about his son, and how he had won his first F3 title.

“My boy, he’s going to be one of the greats one day,” my dad’s voice cracked over the phone.

“I have no doubt.” I cleared my throat.

“Look him up, Alexander Wright. First Black man to make it to Formula One. You’ll see, he’ll be there in no time.”

“World Champion even?”

“Absolutely.”

And here I was, on the brink of history. One more race, one more perfect performance, and it was mine. The sixth title would cement everything I’d worked for, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices, the risks.

I could see it so clearly: Lucia and Gia in the paddock, celebrating that sixth title with me. Gia wearing her little racing suit, Lucia’s laugh filling the air as I lifted the trophy. It wasn’t just a dream, it was a promise I’d make to myself right here, right now.

“One more,” I whispered under my breath, my arms tightening around Lucia. She beamed up at me, and I could’ve sworn her smile was emitting sunlight.

“One more race,” I said, my voice steadier now. “One more podium, and then champion.”

She placed her hand over my chest, right where my heart was pounding. “You’ve got this,” she said simply.

One more race. Just one more. Everything I’ve worked for, sacrificed for, was within reach. I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times: crossing that finish line, hearing the roar of the crowd, the weight of the championship finally mine. And yet, it felt heavier now than it ever had. The pressure, the expectations, the whispers of doubt that crept in when no one else was watching. They already claimed I was a legend, but legends are only as good as their last race. What if I failed? What if all the work, all the years, came down to a single mistake?

But then I thought of her. Of Lucia. Her faith in me was unwavering, steady in a way I’d never known. It was not loud or demanding, but it was there, a constant undercurrent that carried me when I felt like I was sinking. She didn’t care about the trophies or the records. She just…believed in me. Not the driver, not the champion, but me, the man behind the wheel, flaws and all. When she looked at me, I saw a future that wasn’t tied to podiums and champagne. I saw home. And that faith? It was more powerful than any engine. It made me want this even more, not for the glory or the legacy, but because she deserved to see me win. To see me cross that line and know she was right to believe in me.

This race wasn’t just for me, it was an accumulation of so much work, for my dad, for my team, for myself. I’d give it everything I had because, if there was one thing I knew, it was that Lucia already made me feel like a champion. No matter what happened out there, I’d get to go home with my girls. But God, I wanted this. I wanted to win. For her. For Gia. For the version of me they made me want to be.