The hours after the team meeting were a blur. Leo had barely spoken to anyone. He wandered the paddock like a ghost, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He could feel the eyes of everyone around him — the mechanics, the engineers, the sponsors — each of them silently questioning his every move. Cruz's shadow loomed large over everything. The media, the sponsors, and even the team had begun to favor him, their golden child, while Leo was slowly being cast aside as the wild card, the unpredictable variable they couldn't control.
But deep down, Leo knew one thing: he couldn't be anyone else.
The next day, the tension in the garage was unbearable. The team was all business. There were no congratulations for Leo's past victories, no claps on the back for his second-place finish. The mechanics barely looked up when he walked past. He could feel the shift in the air, a sense of distance between him and everyone else. It wasn't just because of his race results — it was because the brand they had been trying to build for him was falling apart.
Cruz, on the other hand, was a different story. The team had already begun to rally behind him. His media presence was flawless. He was the dependable, marketable driver that the sponsors loved. His smile, his polished image, everything about him screamed "safe." He was what the team needed. He was what the sponsors needed.
Leo wasn't that. And it was becoming clearer by the day that he might never be.
That evening, as Leo sat in his trailer, the quiet hum of the paddock felt suffocating. His phone buzzed with messages. Interviews. Sponsor requests. Media attention. His inbox was full, but it wasn't the kind of attention he wanted.
One message stood out.
It was from Adrian, short and to the point:
"Meet me at the track. We need to talk."
Adrian was already waiting by the edge of the track when Leo arrived. The old engineer's weathered face was as serious as Leo had ever seen it.
"You look like hell," Adrian remarked, a half-smile curling on his lips.
Leo didn't return the smile. "I feel like hell."
Adrian leaned against the wall, watching the empty track. "The team's been drifting, hasn't it?"
"Yeah," Leo replied, his voice flat. "They're all lining up behind Cruz."
Adrian nodded. "Not just Cruz. It's the sponsors. The media. The narrative they've built. They're already setting the stage for him. He's their guy."
Leo's fists clenched. "I'm not his guy, Adrian. I don't fit their image. I never have."
"That's your strength," Adrian said, his voice low but resolute. "But you're up against a machine now. This isn't just about being fast on the track. They want you to be a brand, a product. If you don't fit into that mold, you'll be discarded. But don't let them make you think you're not worth something just because you're not like them."
Leo looked away, his gaze distant. He could feel the weight of the words, but they didn't feel real. Not yet. "I'm just tired, Adrian. I'm tired of playing their game. I want to race."
"You are racing," Adrian said firmly. "But this sport isn't just about the race anymore. It's about the politics, the media, the sponsors. And you have to decide if you're going to let them break you or if you're going to break the game. It's not easy, but it's the world we're in now. You can't hide from it."
Leo's heart raced. The weight of the decision was pressing down on him. He had always prided himself on racing for the love of it, for the passion and fire that drove him. But now, that fire was being smothered by the expectations of everyone around him. The sponsors wanted him to conform. The team needed him to be the perfect face of their brand. And the media, well, they were just waiting for him to slip up.
"You're fighting a war, Leo," Adrian said, his voice soft but serious. "And it's not going to be won with talent alone. You're going to need more than that."
The following days were a blur of media obligations, sponsor appearances, and endless press conferences. Leo did his best to stay focused on the track, to block out the noise. But the reality of the situation was inescapable. The team was slowly pulling away, aligning more and more with Cruz. The sponsors were pulling their weight behind him, reinforcing the image they wanted to project.
Leo couldn't keep pretending. He could feel it in the cold, distant glances from the engineers, the way the media outlets treated him like a novelty, a flavor of the month that could be discarded at any time. He wasn't just battling for his place in the team anymore; he was battling for his identity in the sport.
One afternoon, after a particularly grueling press conference, Leo found himself walking through the paddock alone. His mind was reeling, the pressure of it all crashing down on him. He passed a television screen showing the latest interview with Cruz. Cruz was speaking smoothly, talking about his consistency and how he was working with the team to "build a legacy" and "secure a bright future." The sponsors, the media, they were all eating it up.
But what about Leo? What about his legacy? His future?
"Leo!"
The shout caught him off guard. He turned to see one of the junior engineers, Claire, rushing toward him. She was one of the few who had stuck by him, even as the rest of the team began to gravitate toward Cruz.
"Hey, are you okay?" Claire asked, her voice full of concern. "You've been… off. I can tell."
Leo shrugged, his gaze fixed on the ground. "It's nothing."
"Bullshit," Claire said, her tone sharper than Leo expected. "You've been acting like you don't even care. You can't keep pretending it's fine. It's eating you up."
Leo looked at her, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What do you want me to do, Claire? Cruz has the sponsors, the team, the media. I'm just... this." He gestured vaguely, as if everything about him could be summed up in a word: disposable.
"You're not just 'this,' Leo," she said, her voice quieter now, softer. "You're the reason the fans are here. You're the reason I'm here. You've got something that Cruz can never have."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"Heart," she said firmly. "You race with heart, Leo. You race for the love of the sport. Cruz is just playing the game. But you? You could tear it all down and build something better if you want to. But it's your choice."
Leo stood in silence, staring at Claire. For a moment, the weight of the situation seemed to lift. Maybe this fight wasn't over. Maybe there was more to it than just conforming to their expectations.
Later that night, as Leo lay in his hotel room, the words Claire had said echoed in his mind. He wasn't just fighting for the next race. He wasn't just racing for points or championships anymore. He was fighting for his soul.
If he gave in, if he let the team, the sponsors, and the media dictate who he was, then he would have nothing left.
But if he fought back? If he found a way to stay true to himself and still succeed? He might just change the game forever.
And in that moment, Leo knew what he had to do.