Until my Last Breath

25

Barcelona, Spain

I'm on the couch in my Barcelona home, Maverick sprawled beside me, snoring softly. My laptop rests on my knees as I scroll through my emails. It's a slow afternoon, and the TV hums in the background, some motorsport talk show I barely paid attention to when I turned it on.

My inbox is a mix of sponsorship updates, fan mail, and Marina's usual flood of reminders about upcoming media obligations.

"Joining us now is one of Formula 2's most talked-about drivers this season, Darwin Rodriguez," the host's voice cuts through the air.

I freeze. My hands hover over the keyboard as I glance at the TV. There he is, sitting on the set with his signature smirk plastered across his face. My chest tightens instinctively.

The host's grin matches his energy. "Darwin, it's been a phenomenal year for you. The rivalry between you and Rita Bianchi has been one of the sport's biggest storylines this season."

I narrow my eyes. Rivalry? If you can call one driver winning every race and the other barely scraping by a rivalry, sure.

Darwin leans back in his chair, his body language annoyingly relaxed. "Yeah, it's been... interesting competing alongside Rita. She's definitely a character."

My stomach churns. That tone. I know that tone.

The host raises an eyebrow. "A character? What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Darwin starts, shifting forward as if he's about to say something profound. "There's no denying Rita's talented. She's fast, consistent, all of that. But you have to wonder how much of it is talent and how much of it is... adrenaline."

I blink. Adrenaline?

The host tilts her head. "Adrenaline? That's an interesting take. Can you elaborate?"

Darwin lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head slightly as if the weight of his thoughts is too much. "Look, everyone knows what she's been through. Losing her mom, not getting taken care of properly from a young age, living alone, carrying the Bianchi name-it's a lot. And I think she's been using all of that grief and loneliness to fuel her performances. It's like she's running on borrowed time, bottling everything up and pouring it into the track."

My jaw tightens.

"But here's the thing," Darwin continues, his voice dropping to a mockingly concerned tone. "What happens when all of that adrenaline fades? When the grief and the pressure stop being her motivators? What's left then? I'll tell you-just a nepo baby riding the coattails of her last name. Without that fire, I don't think she's anything special."

My breath catches. The words slam into me like a wall of bricks.

The host leans in, her expression one of exaggerated sympathy. "That's a bold statement, Darwin. Are you saying she doesn't deserve her success?"

Darwin shrugs, his smirk growing. "I'm saying the success isn't sustainable. And let's be real, her driving this season hasn't exactly been... sane."

I sit up straight, my heart pounding.

"Take Monaco, for example," he says, gesturing broadly. "She nearly caused both our lives with that insane move in the final lap. It was careless, arrogant, and completely disrespectful. All because she's desperate to prove herself regardless of who can be hurt or even dead because of her actions . Desperate to get the attention and praise she never got from her parents, I guess."

I can't breathe.

The host looks stunned for a moment before recovering. "Those are harsh words. Do you think she's mentally stable enough to compete in Formula 1?"

Darwin sighs again, as if he's doing the world a favor by answering. "Honestly? I don't know. I think it's something her team needs to seriously consider. She's clearly going through a lot, and it's affecting her judgment. If she keeps driving like she did in Monaco, someone's going to get hurt. Maybe she needs to take a step back, focus on herself, and figure out if this is really what she wants. Right now, I'm not sure she's ready for F1. Or if she ever will be."

The segment ends, but I don't move. The words echo in my mind, each one slicing deeper than the last.

Nepo baby. Careless. Arrogant. Mentally unstable.

It's like he's taken everything I've fought for, everything I've worked through, and reduced it to some cheap narrative for clicks.

My vision blurs as rage and hurt churn inside me. My hands tremble as I grab my phone and hit Marina's number.

"Rita?" she answers after two rings, her voice calm.

I don't let her say more. "Did you see that? Did you see what he just said about me?" My voice is shaking, loud enough that Maverick stirs at my feet.

"Rita, calm down-"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down, Marina!" I shout, my voice cracking. "That... that asshole just went on live TV and called me insane, depressed, a freaking nepo baby! He's out there acting like I'm some goddamn hazard to the sport!"

Marina tries to cut in, but I'm pacing now, my free hand tugging at my hair. "He said I'm trying to get attention because my parents didn't give me enough! Like he knows me! Like he knows what I've been through!"

"Rita, I know this is upsetting, but-"

"Upsetting?" I laugh bitterly, my chest heaving. "It's more than upsetting, Marina! This is character assassination! He's questioning everything I've ever done, everything I've ever fucking achieved! And people are eating it up! Look at Twitter-it's trending! Even people who don't watch motorsport are talking about how I'm some broken, spoiled brat who doesn't belong on the track!"

I throw myself back onto the couch, tears stinging my eyes. "How could he say those things? After Monaco? He was the one who nearly wrecked us both! And now he's twisting it, making it sound like I'm the problem?"

Marina's voice softens. "I'll handle it, Rita. We'll put out a statement. We'll talk to the team and the PR reps. You don't have to do this alone."

I shake my head, even though she can't see me. "I don't care about statements, Marina. I care that he got away with it. He said all of that on live TV, and no one even challenged him. They just... let him."

My voice breaks on the last word, and I feel the tears spill over. Maverick nudges my leg with his nose, and I stroke his fur absently, trying to ground myself.

"Rita," Marina says firmly, "you are stronger than this. Let me handle the fallout. You just focus on you. We'll make this right. I promise."

I waste no time to hang up, the anger and hurt simmer beneath the surface. Darwin wants to make me look weak, broken, undeserving.

He's going to regret it.

heavy one😬😬😬