𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 │Nishimura Riki

01

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[Everybody wants to rule the world ] - [tears for fears]

Love.
A word Liliana or Lily had grown up hearing, but never quite the way others did.

She felt it in the quiet things — her father humming in the kitchen after she made him dinner. Her sister sneaking into her room late at night with ice cream and stolen hugs. That kind of love, she knew. Familiar. Soft. Earned.

But romantic love? The kind that steals the breath from your lungs  unconditional, electric, all-consuming? That was foreign.

So she wrote it instead.
Wrote the love she couldn't find.
Lived a hundred lives between pages because none of them felt like her own.

She wrote stories that made people cry and laugh in the same breath, characters who felt so real they haunted readers long after the last page.

Of course, it didn't hurt that her father was one of the most powerful businessmen in Europe. F1 drivers, A-list actors, even royals  they all wanted a seat at his table.

Lily never flaunted it. Not really. Being the daughter of that businessman the one whose name lingered in the same sentences as CEOs, champagne brands, and luxury team sponsors came with a certain weight.

A silent badge of power. But she wore it discreetly, tucked beneath her oversized sunglasses and behind the quiet way she moved through rooms people begged to be in.

Still, she wasn't above using it. Occasionally. When the world didn't need to know, but she needed the doors to open.

Which explained why, on that golden afternoon thick with Milan heat and the scent of fresh espresso, Lily found herself drifting through Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II with shopping bags in one hand and her two best friends in the other.

"You seriously can't pull a few strings?" Alessia groaned as she looped her arm through Lily's. Her cherry gloss caught the sun like glass. "Just once? Paddock access. You know how hard that is to get unless your last name is literally engraved on a Ferrari?"

"I'll try," Lily said, slipping on a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses she hadn't paid for yet. "But even I don't get paddock access like that."

"That's because you don't like F1," Chiara chimed in from behind, her arms full of shopping bags and judgment. "If you actually cared, you'd be at every Grand Prix like the rest of us."

Lily rolled her eyes and adjusted the frames. "I just don't get the hype. Fast cars, loud engines, and men who think they're gods because they can turn left?"