Current Project (i Need To Be Sedated)

current project (i need to be sedated)

these always got me blushinggg 😩

THE OTHER GUY PT.3 | FR43

an: let's go part three! i'm really loving this series, i'm trying to push for 4/5 parts? lmk if there is anything you guys want to see in particular! love you guys <3

part one | part two

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 31,475 others

no excuses

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The low hum of the treadmill and the rhythmic clang of weights filled the resort’s gym, but Franco wasn’t paying attention to any of it. His focus was locked on the woman in the corner, working through her routine with laser-like focus.

She didn’t notice him, which was for the best—he wasn’t ready to deal with her sharp tongue or the way she looked at him like he was the villain in her story. But right now, she was different. She didn’t have her guard up, didn’t look like she was ready to tear him apart with another sarcastic comment. She looked… gorgeous.

It wasn’t just the way her ponytail swung as she moved, or the way her tank top clung to her in all the right places. There was something else, something about the determination in her eyes, the way she focused on each rep like the rest of the world didn’t exist. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was fierce. Strong. And, damn, if that didn’t make her even more attractive.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the doorframe, trying to play it cool. Franco knew he shouldn’t be watching her like this, but it was hard to look away. Every time he saw her, something pulled him in, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend it was just because she hated him.

He’d been thinking about her way too much lately. The way she challenged him, never letting him get too close, always keeping him on the edge. And yeah, maybe that was part of the thrill. But now, as he stood there, watching her with sweat glistening on her skin, it wasn’t just about the challenge anymore.

He wanted to ask her out.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and he cursed under his breath. What the hell was he thinking? She couldn’t stand him. She’d made that clear from the start, and asking her out would probably end in her laughing in his face or worse—publicly roasting him on her Instagram for the world to see.

But still… he couldn’t shake the thought. The way she made his heart race, how every word from her lips felt like a dare. He wanted to take that risk, to see if maybe—just maybe—there was something more behind her walls. Something she wasn’t ready to admit.

“Mate, what are you staring at?”

The voice of his friend, Diego, snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed Diego walking up beside him, his water bottle in hand and a raised eyebrow on his face.

“Nothing,” he muttered, but it was too late. Diego followed his gaze, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Right. Nothing. That’s why you’ve been standing here for a full five minutes staring at her like a lost puppy.”

“Callarse la boca,” (shut up) he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it’s not.” Diego’s grin widened as he leaned in, lowering his voice. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”

He shot his friend a look. “You’re joking, right? You know how she feels about me. She’d chew me up and spit me out before I even got the words out.”

“Maybe,” Diego admitted, shrugging. “But maybe she wouldn’t. Look, I’m just saying, you’ve been eyeing her for days, and it’s not just because she’s Logan’s best friend and Oscar’s sister. You’re into her.”

“I’m not—”

“Mate, you are.” Diego cut him off, raising his hand. “And here’s the thing: girls like her, the ones that give you a hard time? Half the time, it’s because they’re scared of how much they like you. You know the saying, ‘keep your enemies close’ and all that.”

He shook his head, but deep down, he couldn’t deny Diego’s words were getting to him. Maybe that’s why she was always so sharp with him—because she was scared. Or maybe he was just kidding himself.

“Look, you’ll never know unless you try,” Diego continued, nudging him with his elbow. “What’s the worst that could happen? She shuts you down? You’ve survived worse, need I remind you of your ex?.”

He thought about it for a long moment, his eyes drifting back to her as she moved through her final set. Diego was right—he’d survived worse, and if she shot him down, at least he’d know he tried. And if, somehow, she didn’t… Well, that was a risk worth taking.

“Fine,” Franco said finally, running a hand over his face. “I’ll do it. I’ll ask her out.”

Diego grinned, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Just be cool, alright? Don’t be the cocky bastard you usually are. You’ve got this.”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but as he took a deep breath and headed toward her, the pounding in his chest wasn’t just from nerves. It was excitement. He was ready for the risk.

francolapinto

liked by williamsracing, carlossainz55, ynpiastri and 984,237 others

keep pushing during the break

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You wiped the sweat from your brow, breathing hard as you finished your last set. The gym was quiet this time of night, just the way you liked it. Fewer people meant fewer distractions—fewer chances of running into Franco.

You shook her head, scolding yourself for even thinking about him. Why was he constantly on your mind? Maybe it was because he seemed to pop up everywhere. The pool, the restaurant, and now—you caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror—the gym.

Your eyes flicked to the reflection. There he was, leaning against the doorway, watching you. You could feel his gaze, the same infuriating, intense look he always gave you, like he was daring you to react. It was infuriating how much he got under your skin, how he was always there, always pushing.

You turned your back to the mirror, trying to pretend you hadn’t seen him, but the knot in your stomach wouldn’t loosen. It wasn’t nerves, not really. It was more complicated than that—a mix of irritation, confusion, and something you refused to name. You weren't about to let him know he’d gotten to you, not when he was probably waiting for you to snap, just so he could make some smug comment.

But he didn’t leave.

You could feel him still there, watching, and it drove you crazy. You could handle the public stuff—the jabs on social media, the press interviews where he dropped some flirty comment about you, like he was trying to bait you. But this… this was different. He wasn’t playing to an audience here. This was just him, watching you like you were the only person in the room.

Your heart pounded, and you hated it. Hated that he had this effect on you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around the dumbbell in your hand. Maybe if you just ignored him, he’d leave. But then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps moving closer made your grip tighten even more. He wasn’t leaving. Of course he wasn’t.

"Hey," his voice cut through the air, smooth and casual, like he hadn’t been staring at you for who knew how long.

You straightened up, wiping your palms on your leggings before turning around, schooling your face into a mask of indifference. You weren't going to let him see any weakness.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone sharper than youintended.

He hesitated for a second, almost like he wasn’t sure what to say. That was a first. Usually, he had some cocky remarks locked and loaded. But tonight, there was something different in his eyes. A vulnerability that threw you off guard.

“I was just… wondering if you wanted to grab a drink or something,” he said, the confidence in his voice wavering just enough for you to notice.

A drink?

You stared at him, completely blindsided. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing you’d expected. Was he seriously asking you out? After all the snark, all the public back-and-forth?

You should say no. You should laugh in his face, tell him to take his ego and leave you alone. It would be the easiest thing in the world to turn him down.

But the words didn’t come.

Instead, you found herself staring at him, taking in the way his usually cocky demeanour had softened. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t playing some game to get a rise out of you. He was just… asking. And there was something disarming about that.

Your heartbeat quickened, and you hated that, too.

“You’re joking, right?” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “No joke. Just thought maybe… we could talk. Outside of all this.”

You could tell he was waiting for the rejection. You could practically feel the tension rolling off him as he braced himself for your inevitable shutdown. But for the first time since you’d met him, you didn’t feel like fighting. She felt… curious.

Why now? Why you?

You crossed your arms, more to steady yourself than anything. “You know I can’t stand you, right?”

His lips twitched in what almost looked like a smile. “Yeah. I’m well aware.”

“And yet you think I’d want to get a drink with you?”

He shrugged, his eyes still holding yours, like he was trying to figure you out. “What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

You wanted to roll her eyes, wanted to laugh in his face, but instead, you found herself biting your lip, considering it. And that was the most frustrating part. Because as much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny there was something between them. Something you couldn’t explain, but it had been simmering beneath the surface from the moment you two had met.

You should say no. You should walk away, like you always did.

But instead, you found herself meeting his gaze head-on, searching his face for any sign of the arrogant playboy you’d convinced yourself he was. But all you saw was sincerity. And that was what made you hesitate.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms tighter. “But one wrong word, I’m gone.”

His smile was instant, warm, and more genuine than you’d ever seen. “Deal.”

ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 31,437 others

alllllcoooolllllhol es muy bueno

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The bar is dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet corner of the resort. Normally, you’d appreciate the calm atmosphere, but tonight, you can’t shake the nervous energy running through you. You don’t know why you agreed to this—sitting across from him, sipping drinks as if you aren’t the same person who publicly can’t stand him.

Franco leaned back in his chair, watching you with that same relaxed expression that always makes your pulse quicken, though you’d never admit it. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never been surfing?” His voice is casual, like this is the most normal conversation in the world.

You shrug, swirling your drink in your hand, trying to act unaffected. “We’re a racing family.”

He grins, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll have to take you sometime. I bet you’d be a natural.”

That teasing tone, the cocky smile—it should annoy you. It does annoy you. But there’s something different tonight. He’s not playing for an audience, not trying to rile you up like usual. It feels… real. And that’s what unnerves you the most.

“You think I’d take surfing lessons from you? You think I’d voluntarily hang out with you again?” you quip, raising an eyebrow, trying to regain some control over the situation.

“Absolutely. And you’d love every minute of it.”

You roll your eyes, but even as you do, you feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. When did this become easy? When did you start enjoying his company?

You take a long sip of your drink, trying to steady yourself. You shouldn’t feel this way. You’re supposed to dislike him. He’s supposed to be the cocky new driver who replaced Logan, the guy you roast on social media. So why is your heart racing?

“Are you okay?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, softer now.

You blink, realising you’ve been staring at the glass in your hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter, setting it down.

But he’s still looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to read your mind. And for the first time, you don’t know if you can hide behind your usual sarcasm. He’s seeing through your defences, and that terrifies you.

“Listen,” he says, his voice low, almost gentle, “if this is weird for you, you can leave. No pressure.”

Your heart skips at the way he says your name, like it means something more than just another person in his world. Vulnerability flashes in his eyes, and you hate that it makes you feel something, something you’ve been trying to ignore.

You’re about to make a snappy comeback, to brush it off like always, but instead, you just sit there, staring at him. The space between you feels too small, the air thick with an unspoken tension.

Then a thought came to the front of your mind, was he going to kiss you?

The thought sends a jolt through your system. You should pull back, say something snarky, shut this down before it goes any further. But you don’t move. And neither does he.

The tension is electric now, crackling between you like a live wire. He leans in, just slightly, enough for you to feel the heat of his presence, and you realise—so do you. You’re leaning in, too. Your heart is racing, your breath shallow. You can feel the moment hanging there, fragile, on the edge of something you’re not sure you’re ready for. You’re ready to blame the alcohol but you hadn’t even finished your first drink.

And then, just as the space between you is about to disappear, a voice shatters the moment like a glass breaking.

“Oh my god Franco! Can I get a selfie with you?”

The interruption hits you like a bucket of cold water. You jerk back, blinking as you realise there’s someone standing beside the table—a girl, wide-eyed and holding up her phone, looking at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon.

He glances at her, clearly surprised, but quickly recovers with that easy charm of his. For a second, the connection between you snaps, and the intensity of the moment is gone.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says, smiling at the fan. “Just give me a second.”

You lean back in your seat, trying to get a grip on yourself. Your heart is still racing, and you feel the ghost of what almost happened hanging in the air. You hadn’t realised how close you’d come to crossing that line until the moment was interrupted. And now that it’s gone, you don’t know how to feel. Relieved? Maybe. But there’s a part of you—a part you hate to admit—that’s disappointing.

He turns back to you, his face apologetic, as if he knows exactly what you’re feeling.

“I’ll be right back,” he says softly, standing up to take the photo.

You watch as he poses with the fan, your heart still thudding in your chest. The moment between you lingers in the air, but now, with the interruption, it’s slipping away. And you’re not sure if you want it back or if you’re relieved it’s gone.

twitter

imessage between logan and yn

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn

comment if you want to be added to the tag lit xx

REQUESTS

these are the drivers i’m most likely to write for, but i am open to others depending on the request (most likely fernando or something but again, i’m open to some suggestions)

they can be fluff, angst, smutty, whatever! can be driver x fem!y/n or driver x fem!unamed character

just shoot me a message!

RAGHHH

THE OTHER GUY PT.1 | FR43

an: @isaadore this one is for you. i've realised i haven't written anything for the latest pookie of the grid, so lets kick it off with some enemies to lovers

fc: random brunettes on pintrest

requests: open

ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri and 67,938 others

my dearest lo, the boy who turned oscar and i into apart of a triplet and not twins, the racing world has been cruel to you. i will forever stand by your side no matter what. i love you forever and cannot wait to see what greatness you achieve. love, your unofficial little sister by four months, six days and ten minutes

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logansargeant: i love you ducky 🦆💛

ynpiastri: love you more sarge :)

userone: the cutest unofficial little sister he could ever ask for

usertwo: when the world doesn't have logan's back, we can trust that the piastri siblings have his back

userthree: god i love his relationship with them

oscarpiastri: well said ducky

ynpiastri: hire me as your pr

oscarpiastri: over my dead body

nicolepiastri: oscar be nice to your little sister

userfour: they still call her ducky

userfive: am i missing something here, why do they keep calling her ducky soz im new to this

usersix: she used to hide rubber ducks whenever she could for oscar and logan to find in f2 & f3

userfive: stop that so cute

williamsracing

liked by mclaren, alex_albon, francolapinto and 985,248 others

we are delighted to announce that franco colapinto is going to join us, racing for williams as of monza. welcome to formula one, franco!

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userone: 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

usertwo: poor logan ☹️

francolapinto: thank you!

userthree: where was logan's goodbye?

userfour: finally some real talent

userfive: williams try not sign an underprepared rookie challenge: failed 

usersix: jv keep an eye open at night 

ynpiastri: womp womp

francolapinto: ¿que hice? (what did i do) 

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 45,234 others

monza 🤘🤘

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userone: i want to be her 😩

usertwo: i want to date her 🤭

nicolepiastri: very tame post

ynpiastri: they can't tame me 👹

userthree: ten minute penalty for ocon

oscarpiastri: who's dog is that

ynpiastri: i stole it 😼

instagram story

twitter

interview with franco colapinto

twitter

twitter

the end.

lmk what you guys think of this! luv luv luv <3

can confirm!! flailing works!

So, FYI you guys, sometimes if you go to your favorite writers and flail at them a lot about how much you love their fics with lots of specific examples, they will let you read thousands of words of their unpublished WIPs and you can flail even more. Also sometimes after that you get to be friends, too, and help them come up with ideas. And vice versa! This is pretty much the best thing in the world and it is called fandom.

they should both reach for the gun and pop her ass

CHICAGO PT.3 | OP81

an: I LIED IT'LL BE FOUR PARTS IM HOOKED ON WRITING THIS STORY RAHHHH. POSTING THIS BEFORE BED TIME AND IM SO AHHHHHHHHHH!

wc: 6k

warnings: panic attack

part one | part two |

Oscar sat in the half-lit quiet of his apartment, a glass of whiskey in hand, its amber warmth forgotten in his grip. His laptop sat open on the coffee table, displaying emails he hadn’t touched in hours, their urgency faded into the background noise of his thoughts. It had been weeks since the conversation with Lando in the driver’s room, but the memory of it lingered in his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

He’d done everything he could to bury the unsettling thoughts since then. Her voice, her soft reassurances, had done their job—at least temporarily. She had always known how to pull him back, how to soothe the churning inside him with just a few words. But now, in the stillness of his apartment, with no race day adrenaline to distract him, the questions began to rise again, clawing at the back of his mind.

A sharp knock on the door broke his spiral of thoughts. Oscar blinked, dragging himself back into the present. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and for a brief moment, a flicker of irritation sparked. He wasn’t in the mood for company. But then he heard Logan’s familiar voice from the other side, jovial and carefree.

“Oscar, buddy, open up!”

With a reluctant sigh, Oscar stood up, downing the rest of his whiskey in one swallow before heading to the door. He opened it to find Logan grinning, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand.

“Thought I’d drop by, see what you’ve been up to,” Logan said as he strolled inside without waiting for an invitation, clearly comfortable in the space. “Figured you’d be brooding alone in here.”

“Is that what people think of me now?” Oscar asked with a wry smile, trying to keep the mood light. He closed the door behind Logan, though his earlier unease hadn’t fully left him.

Logan plopped down on the couch, dropping the beer on the table and cracking one open for himself. “Well, you’ve been a bit... distant since Chicago, haven’t you?” He took a long swig of his beer, then set it down. “But that’s why I’m here. Thought I’d snap you out of it.”

Oscar forced a laugh and sat down next to him, trying to ignore the twist in his gut. “Yeah, just a lot on my plate lately.”

Logan nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it. The season’s brutal this year. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Feels like it,” Oscar muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

There was a brief silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the city outside, and for a moment, it felt almost comfortable—almost. Oscar reached for another drink, but Logan spoke up before he could get lost in his thoughts again.

“Oh, right. Meant to tell you,” Logan started, his tone casual but carrying that hint of intrigue that meant he was about to drop something interesting. “I overheard something at the paddock the other day. Lando and Max were having a chat.”

The mention of Lando’s name made Oscar tense, though he hid it behind a quick sip of his drink. He hadn’t seen much of Lando since that conversation about his girlfriend. He’d avoided him, telling himself it was just the busyness of the season, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

“What about?” Oscar asked, trying to sound casual, though his pulse had quickened.

“They were talking about their girlfriends,” Logan said, leaning back on the couch with a grin, clearly amused by the gossip. “Apparently, Lando’s thinking of bringing his girlfriend to the track on Thursday. You know, letting her kid meet Max’s girlfriend’s kid.”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat. Her kid. He hadn’t realised Lando had gotten serious enough with his girlfriend to talk about bringing her child to the paddock. The idea of it—a girlfriend and her child, meeting other drivers’ families—felt like something out of a life he couldn’t quite touch.

“Her kid?” Oscar repeated, forcing his voice to stay even.

“Yeah,” Logan continued, seemingly oblivious to the shift in Oscar’s mood. “Lando’s girlfriend has a son. Seven years old, I think he said. Leo.”

The name hit Oscar like a punch to the gut, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air thicker. Leo. Too close. Too close to Lea. The same age, too. His mind reeled as he tried to process the information.

Leo and Lea. Two names that were now spiralling around his mind, refusing to leave him alone.

“Leo?” Oscar echoed, his throat tight, his hands suddenly clammy.

“Yeah, that’s what Lando said,” Logan confirmed, oblivious to Oscar’s growing panic. “Funny coincidence, huh? I thought of your girl when I heard it. Her daughter’s name is Lea, right?”

Oscar’s stomach churned, the whiskey doing nothing to steady his nerves now. The resemblance between the names—between their situations—was too striking to ignore. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was racing.

“Yeah... Lea,” he muttered, barely able to get the word out.

Logan leaned forward, reaching for another beer, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside Oscar. “Weird how those names are so close, isn’t it? Leo and Lea. Both seven. But hey, probably just one of those things, right? What are the chances?”

What are the chances? Oscar’s mind latched onto that phrase, replaying it over and over as the conversation with Lando echoed in his head. The pieces were there, and now they were beginning to slot into place, no matter how much he wanted to resist it.

Lando had mentioned meeting her a year ago—in America. She had told him about her life in Chicago, about her daughter Lea, seven years old, and raising her alone. But Lando had spoken about Leo, not Lea. A son, not a daughter. That had been the difference that had made Oscar dismiss the thought when Lando first talked about it. But now, with that name echoing in his mind, Oscar could no longer ignore the similarities.

His grip tightened around his glass, fingers digging into the smooth surface as he fought to keep his composure. Could it be her? Could she be Lando’s girlfriend?

The idea seemed absurd, but the doubt was already there, a seed that had been planted and was now sprouting, twisting its roots deep into his mind.

He replayed every moment he’d spent with her, every conversation, every look, every touch. She’d been so convincing, so sincere—or at least, that’s what he had wanted to believe. But now, with this new information, everything felt tainted. Every memory of her seemed to carry an undertone of manipulation, of deception.

He could feel the ground beneath him shifting, the stability he’d clung to for weeks slipping away. His thoughts spiralled, racing between disbelief and bitter realisation.

Logan seemed to sense something off now, watching Oscar with a puzzled expression. “You alright, mate? You’ve gone quiet.”

Oscar forced a tight smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

Logan shrugged, unfazed, as he stood up and stretched. “Well, don’t think too hard. Could be nothing, just me connecting dots that aren’t there. I mean, you and Lando have different types. Probably just a coincidence.”

“Yeah... probably,” Oscar said, his voice strained.

Logan gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Alright, I’ll head out. You should come out with us tomorrow night, clear your head. Don’t let all this racing stuff get to you.”

Oscar nodded absently, barely hearing him. “Yeah, maybe.”

Logan grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, giving Oscar one last wave before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, Oscar was left alone with his thoughts, the silence of the apartment now feeling oppressive. He sank back down onto the couch, his head swimming with a confusion he couldn’t shake.

Could it really be her? Could she have been playing him all this time?

He glanced down at his phone, which lay on the coffee table next to the empty whiskey glass. His fingers itched to pick it up, to call her, to ask her outright if she was lying to him. But what would he even say? He couldn’t just accuse her out of the blue, not without sounding paranoid. And yet, the thought gnawed at him, relentless.

Oscar grabbed his phone, staring at her name in his contacts, his thumb hovering over the screen. Leo. Lea. His head spun with the possibilities, the connections that seemed too close to ignore.

But even as the doubt filled his mind, there was still a part of him that resisted it, clinging to the version of her he knew. The woman he had fallen for. The woman who had whispered sweet promises into his ear, made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t in years. Could that all have been a lie?

His thumb hovered over her name, the phone feeling heavier in his hand than ever before.

For the first time since meeting her, Oscar didn’t press call.

The hours had come and gone and Oscar couldn’t remember getting into bed, but he could remember ever minute he’d spent staring up at his ceiling. It was well past midnight, but sleep had evaded him completely. He hadn't been able to shake the conversation with Logan earlier that evening—the way the name Leo had echoed in his mind, digging into his subconscious, unsettling everything he thought he knew about her.

Leo. Too close to Lea. Too close to her.

He picked up his phone from the nightstand, his fingers moving almost without thought. The list of contacts blurred slightly as his thumb hovered over Lando’s name. He hadn’t spoken to him since their conversation weeks ago unless he had to for work, and despite every instinct telling him not to, Oscar needed answers. He couldn’t let this nagging doubt fester any longer. He needed to know if his suspicions—wild as they seemed—held any weight.

Hey mate, need to talk before the race. You free tomorrow?

He stared at the message, hesitating for a moment before pressing send. The little blue bubble appeared, sitting in the chat like an uncomfortable reminder that he was waiting for something—anything—to help ease his mind. But the longer he waited, the more the silence gnawed at him. Minutes passed, the absence of a response amplifying his anxiety.

Oscar sighed, his thumb tapping on the screen again, this time scrolling down to her name. He stared at her name for a long moment, remembering the way her voice had soothed him so many times before. She'll tell me I'm being ridiculous. She’d laugh softly, maybe tease him for worrying over nothing. She always knew how to calm him down, how to make him forget everything else. He could almost hear her voice in his head.

He typed quickly.

I miss your voice. Can we talk?

He pressed send, staring at the screen as if willing the message to deliver. Seconds ticked by, then a minute, and his heart began to pound when he realised the message hadn’t gone through. Message not delivered. He frowned, watching the error sign blink back at him.

That’s strange.

Oscar tried again, but the message still didn’t deliver. His mind raced through possible explanations. Maybe her phone was off, or she was somewhere without service. She did mention a work trip soon, he thought, trying to rationalise it. It wasn’t the first time her phone had been out of reach for a few hours. He could almost hear her brushing it off when she eventually called him back, laughing about poor reception or how busy she had been.

Still, something about it didn’t sit right with him. He stared at his phone, a sinking feeling growing in his chest. Lando wasn’t responding either. The creeping doubt Logan had stirred earlier began to crawl its way back, more persistent now, digging deeper into his thoughts.

What if...

Oscar quickly shut that thought down. He wasn’t going to drive himself insane with these suspicions. He’d seen this before—the paranoia that came with the pressure of the sport, the constant overthinking. This was just another bout of that, amplified by stress. He was exhausted, running on fumes, and his mind was playing tricks on him. He just needed rest.

I’m overthinking it, he told himself, forcing the words into the forefront of his mind like a mantra. I’m just tired, and everything looks worse when you’re this exhausted.

He set his phone down, determined to let it go. He’d see Lando tomorrow anyway, and she would probably call him back when she was free. There was no point in losing sleep over this, not when he had a full day of media obligations ahead of him. He’d wake up, do what needed to be done, and this would all seem ridiculous in the light of day.

With a heavy sigh, Oscar pulled the duvet over himself and closed his eyes. The cool fabric of the pillow pressed against his cheek as he tried to settle into the bed, but his mind wouldn’t stop buzzing with a million thoughts.

It’s nothing. Stop overthinking it.

But as he lay there, the city’s hum outside his window, the quiet tick of the clock on the wall, and the nagging unease in his gut refused to go away. Every now and then, his eyes would flicker open, glancing at the phone on the nightstand. Every time, it stayed still. Silent. No messages from her. No response from Lando.

Oscar swallowed hard, turning over again, trying to focus on anything else. Tomorrow will clear everything up. He just had to make it to tomorrow.

Eventually, sleep found him, though it was a restless, uneasy kind of sleep, filled with fractured dreams and half-formed thoughts he couldn’t quite remember when he woke up. But the feeling lingered, hanging over him like a storm cloud.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it brought no comfort. He reached for his phone the moment he opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping to find some kind of response waiting for him.

But there was nothing.

No reply from Lando. No message from her.

Oscar exhaled sharply, pushing himself out of bed. It’s just one of those things. He had a long day ahead of him, and there was no use in letting his thoughts run wild. He had to focus, get his head back in the game. Just keep going.

He threw on his clothes and readied himself for the day ahead, steeling his nerves for what he hoped would be just another ordinary day. I’ll see them both soon, he thought as he left his apartment, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that followed him like a shadow.

By the time Oscar got to the paddock it was already buzzing with activity as Oscar arrived, the hum of engines, conversations, and the occasional clatter of tools filling the air. He should’ve felt at home here—among the smell of burning rubber, the organised chaos of race day preparations. But today, it all felt distant. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in an unsettling fog of thoughts he’d been trying to shake since the night before.

He adjusted the collar of his team jacket, trying to focus, but the weight of the unease from the night before lingered. No message from her. No word from Lando. He hadn’t been able to ignore the growing knot of doubt, but he had convinced himself this morning that it was nothing. Just a coincidence. It had to be.

As he walked down the main paddock lane, making his way toward the media zone, his phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart leapt for a moment—maybe it was her—but when he glanced down, it was just another email, something about the team briefing later. He sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket, forcing himself to focus on the day ahead.

But then, something caught his eye.

At first, it was nothing more than a flash of red—the colour of a jacket, a familiar silhouette standing just on the edge of the paddock near the Mclaren Hospitality Tent. His eyes narrowed, and his breath caught in his throat as his gaze sharpened. Even from this distance, he could recognize the way she stood, her posture, the easy grace with which she moved. It was her.

She was here.

For a moment, a wave of relief washed over him, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His heart quickened—not with the anxiety of the past few days but with the warmth he always felt when he thought of her. She’s here. Maybe she had come to surprise him. Maybe everything would finally make sense.

His pace quickened as he moved toward her, anticipation swelling in his chest. But as he got closer, something shifted. His smile faltered when he saw someone else approaching her—a man.

Lando.

Oscar  stopped dead in his tracks, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He watched as Lando strode up to her with that same casual confidence he always had, his face lighting up when he saw her. And then, as if the universe was mocking him, Lando leaned down and kissed her.

Oscar  felt the world tilt beneath him.

It wasn’t just a casual kiss, not the kind you give in passing. It was intimate, familiar. The kind of kiss shared by lovers, by people who had spent more than fleeting moments together. Oscar 's breath hitched in his throat as the truth hit him all at once—hard and unforgiving.

Lando's girlfriend. Lando's Leo.

She wasn’t just some distant thought anymore, someone he could call and pretend everything was fine with. She was standing right here, in front of him, in this world that had always belonged to him—and Lando.

Oscar ’s mouth went dry, his pulse hammering in his ears, but it wasn’t over. As if the universe wasn’t done ripping apart the fragile web he had tried to spin for himself, he saw a small boy run toward Lando, his laugh carrying on the wind.

The boy was maybe seven, with light brown hair, bright eyes, and a familiar lilt to his voice. Leo. The name thundered in Oscar ’s mind, each syllable more brutal than the last.

Oscar ’s world stopped.

He watched, frozen, as the boy ran to Lando, and Lando crouched down to scoop him up in an embrace, grinning widely. Lando ruffled the boy’s hair, saying something Oscar  couldn’t hear from where he stood, but it didn’t matter. He could see everything he needed to know. Lando wasn’t just playing the role of a stand-in or a casual boyfriend—he was in this, fully, deeply. This was a life. Their life.

Oscar ’s breath came in shallow, ragged bursts as the full weight of it all crashed down on him. She wasn’t just with Lando. She had a whole other life with him. A life that included a child—a child he had heard so much about from her, though she had called him by another name. Lea had become Leo, and everything Oscar  had thought he knew was a lie.

His mind reeled as he tried to piece together how long this had been going on. How long she had been playing them both. Weeks? Months? The entire time he had known her? How many nights had she soothed him with her voice, made him believe he was special to her, while she was building this life with someone else?

His hands trembled as he stood there, watching them interact like a family. She had her arm wrapped around Lando’s waist now, smiling up at him in a way that made Oscar ’s stomach churn. She looked at Lando with that same softness, that same vulnerability that had made Oscar fall for her in the first place.

How could I have been so blind? The thought ripped through him, bitter and sharp. Every moment with her replayed in his mind now, but with a new, ugly clarity. The subtle evasions, the too-perfect explanations, the way she’d disappear for days at a time, only to come back with a sweet excuse. He had ignored it all, let himself believe she was everything he wanted her to be because he had been desperate to feel something again.

The paddock noise swirled around him, the laughter, the chatter of mechanics, the distant rumble of engines. But all of it faded into the background as his eyes locked on her and Lando.

For the first time, Oscar  didn’t feel the familiar rush of race day energy. There was no excitement, no focus on the task at hand. All he felt was a gnawing sense of betrayal, an emptiness that spread through his chest like ice. He had been so utterly hooked on her, had built this fantasy around her in his mind, and now, that fantasy was crumbling before his very eyes.

Without realising it, he had taken a step backward, then another, retreating from the sight in front of him. His mind screamed at him to confront her, to demand answers, but his body refused to move. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the betrayal itself or the realisation that he hadn’t seen it coming.

As he turned and walked away, the weight of it all pressing down on him, he felt as if he were walking through molasses, his legs heavy, his breath shallow. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but he knew now that there was nothing left to ask. Everything was laid bare before him.

He had fallen for her, believed her, let her into the deepest parts of himself. And all the while, she had been building something else, something real, with someone else.

He thought back to that night he had first met her in Chicago, that intoxicating smile, the softness in her eyes when she talked about her daughter. And now, standing here in the aftermath, he saw it for what it had been all along—a performance.

Oscar had been nothing more than a passing act in her show, and now the curtain had fallen.

Oscar didn’t know how far he had walked. His legs moved mechanically, one foot in front of the other, carrying him away from the scene that had shattered him. The sound of laughter, engines, and the bustling paddock faded into the background as a growing numbness took over. His hands were shaking, and his chest tightened with each breath, the weight of it all sinking in.

He stumbled around a corner, finding himself in a quiet service alley behind the team garages, where crates and equipment were stacked in neat rows. The world felt distant, blurred at the edges, and the air felt too thin. He leaned against the cold metal of a container, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

I can’t breathe.

His mind raced, the images of her and Lando flashing like daggers in his thoughts. Her smile, her lies, the little boy running to Lando—it all collided in his head, creating a vortex of disbelief and betrayal. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, erratic beat that refused to slow. His vision started to blur, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

Get a grip. But the command felt impossible. His lungs wouldn’t fill with air, his thoughts were spinning out of control, and the walls of the alley seemed to close in around him.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, but they sounded distant, like they were coming through a fog. Before he could react, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

"Oscar?" It was Logan.

Oscar tried to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t even lift his head to meet Logan’s gaze. His body trembled, his hands clutching at the front of his jacket as if trying to hold himself together.

“Mate, what the hell—are you okay?” Logan’s voice was sharp with concern as he rushed to his side, grabbing Oscar by the shoulders. He crouched down, his face close, searching Oscar's eyes for any sign of response. But Oscar could only shake his head, his breaths coming faster and more ragged.

“I—I can’t—” Oscar gasped, his voice barely a whisper. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, like he was suffocating under the weight of everything that had just happened. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the panic, but it overwhelmed him.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me. Focus on me. Slow down,” Logan urged, his voice calm but firm. He placed a hand on Oscar’s chest, matching the rise and fall of his shallow breaths. “In. Out. Come on, slow it down.”

Oscar tried to follow Logan’s instructions, his chest rising in shallow, broken attempts. Each inhale felt like a battle, but Logan’s steady voice anchored him, pulling him out of the spiralling panic. Slowly, painfully, his breathing began to slow, and the fog in his mind lifted just enough for him to focus on the present moment.

“Good. Keep going. You’re okay,” Logan murmured, keeping his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, steadying him.

It felt like hours passed before Oscar could breathe properly again, the tightness in his chest easing ever so slightly. His hands were still trembling, but his mind had slowed enough to process what had just happened. The panic still lingered, like a storm waiting on the horizon, but at least for now, he could breathe.

Logan stayed crouched beside him, his brow furrowed with concern. “What the hell happened? You looked fine earlier. What’s going on?”

Oscar swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn’t know where to begin. How could he even explain this? How could he put into words the chaos that had just upended everything he thought he knew?

“Logan…” His voice was hoarse, raw from the struggle to breathe. “It’s… it’s her.”

Logan’s face shifted from concern to confusion. “The girl from Chicago? What about her?”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. His voice cracked as he spoke, the words tumbling out in a broken rush. “She… she’s with Lando. I just—God, I just saw them. They were together, and there’s a kid—Leo. She told me she had a daughter, but… but that’s her son, Logan. That’s her son.”

Logan’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face as he took in Oscar’s words. “Wait, what? Lando? And—Jesus. What?”

Oscar nodded, his stomach turning as he relived the moment he had seen them together. “I didn’t know, Logan. I had no idea. She never told me. She’s been playing me this whole time. And Lando, he… he doesn’t know. He has no idea.”

Logan was silent for a moment, his jaw tight as he processed what Oscar was saying. “And you’re sure it’s the same girl?”

“Positive. I saw them together,” Oscar said, his voice thick with disbelief. “She was with Lando, and the kid… I just—I can’t believe it. She’s been lying to both of us. I don’t even know how long it’s been going on.”

Logan let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit, mate. That’s… that’s messed up. How the hell did she pull this off? You’ve been with her for—what, months?”

“Since Chicago,” Oscar muttered, his hands clenched into fists. The anger was rising now, replacing the panic with a burning sense of betrayal. “She’s been playing me for months, Logan. And the worst part is, Lando doesn’t know. He’s out there thinking he’s got a family with her, and she’s just… she’s been lying to him too.”

Logan rubbed his face, clearly at a loss for words. “Mate, this is… this is bad. You need to talk to Lando. He deserves to know what’s going on.”

Oscar shook his head, his throat tightening again. “I don’t even know how to start that conversation. How am I supposed to tell him that the woman he’s in love with has been stringing me along for months?”

“I know it’s hard, but he deserves the truth,” Logan said gently. “He’s your teammate. You owe it to him to tell him what you know.”

Oscar let out a long, shaky breath. Deep down, he knew Logan was right. Lando deserved the truth. But the idea of confronting him, of shattering the life Lando thought he had with her—it felt impossible. How could he do that to someone he cared about?

“How do I even begin?” Oscar whispered, more to himself than to Logan.

“You just do. Lando deserves to hear it from you, not from anyone else,” Logan said firmly. “Trust me, the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to get. You need to talk to him before this whole thing blows up even worse.”

Oscar nodded, though the thought made his chest tighten again. He knew Logan was right. He had to face this. He had to talk to Lando. Even if it meant tearing down the life Lando thought he had built.

“Okay,” Oscar said quietly. “I’ll talk to him. Before the race.”

Logan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing, mate. You’ve got this.”

But as Oscar stood there, still trembling from the panic and the weight of the truth pressing down on him, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to face what was coming next.

Before the race Oscar stood outside Lando’s driver room, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest. His palms were clammy, his breath shaky, and his mind was racing with every possible way this conversation could go wrong. He had rehearsed it a hundred times since Logan found him—how he would explain everything, how he’d try to soften the blow. But now, standing here, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

His hand hovered over the door for a moment, hesitation gripping him. What if Lando didn’t believe him? What if he got angry? Oscar wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the storm that was about to hit.

He deserves the truth. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, Oscar knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, and there stood Lando, already dressed in his race suit, looking every bit the calm, collected driver he always was before a race. But today, Oscar could see the excitement in his eyes, the eagerness. It made his stomach turn.

“Oscar, mate! What’s up?” Lando asked, grinning. He stepped back, motioning for Oscar to come inside. “You ready for the big day?”

Oscar forced a smile, though it felt weak and awkward. He stepped inside, the air thick with tension he wasn’t sure Lando could feel yet. The motorhome was quiet, the sound of the paddock fading into the background as the door shut behind him.

“Yeah, uh… about that…” Oscar started, his voice already cracking under the weight of what he was about to say. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his heart thudding against his ribs. “I need to talk to you. About something serious.”

Lando’s smile faltered just a little, his brow furrowing. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling the nerves coil tight in his chest. This was it. No turning back.

“It’s about your girlfriend,” Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. The name hit the air like a bomb, and Lando’s face immediately darkened.

“My girlfriend?” Lando repeated, his expression shifting to confusion. “What about her?”

Oscar hesitated, feeling the weight of every word that was about to come out of his mouth. His throat was dry, and he suddenly wished he had some water, something to buy more time. But there was no time. It had to be now.

“I… I didn’t know she was with you,” Oscar said, the words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. Lando, I’ve been—God, I’ve been seeing her. She never told me about you.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Lando’s eyes narrowed as the meaning of Oscar’s words sank in, his confusion giving way to something darker—anger.

“You’ve been what?” Lando’s voice was low, dangerous, a tone Oscar had never heard from him before. “You’ve been seeing her?”

Oscar held up his hands, trying to keep his own panic in check. “I swear, I didn’t know, mate. I didn’t know she was with you. She told me she was single, raising her kid on her own. I had no idea you were with her. Not until I saw you together today.”

Lando took a step back, his face twisted in disbelief and fury. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in the small space, his movements sharp, agitated. “Are you telling me you’ve been with her this whole time? The whole time we’ve been together?”

Oscar nodded, feeling like the ground beneath him was about to give way. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, his voice shaky. “I met her in Chicago months ago. She told me she had a daughter, that she was a single mum. I thought… I thought I was helping her.”

Lando let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Helping her? You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s been with me for a year! She’s been my girlfriend, Oscar. What the hell were you thinking?”

Oscar winced, the guilt tightening around his chest. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was just… I was hooked on her. She had me completely fooled.”

Lando’s face was a mask of rage now, his fists clenched at his sides as if he were holding himself back from hitting something—or someone. “You’re telling me this now, before the race? What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Oscar?”

“I’m sorry,” Oscar said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you deserve to know. I had no idea she was with you. I only put it together when Logan mentioned Leo—her son.”

Lando stopped pacing, his face going pale at the mention of Leo. “Leo?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, Oscar saw something other than anger in his friend’s eyes—something like fear. “Who told you his name was Leo?”

Oscar nodded, swallowing hard not knowing how to navigate this topic any further. “She told me she had a daughter named Lea.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, like the eye of a storm. Then, slowly, Lando sat down on the edge of the small bed, his head in his hands. Oscar stood frozen, unsure of what to do, unsure if he should say more or just leave.

“She played us both, didn’t she?” Lando muttered, his voice hoarse, filled with disbelief. “She’s been playing me this whole time.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, nodding, though he still couldn’t fully believe it himself. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think she has.”

Lando shook his head, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. “I should’ve known something was off. She always had these excuses, always disappearing for days at a time. I thought she was just… I don’t know, giving me space. Or with her kid. But now? Now it all makes sense.”

Oscar sat down across from him, the weight of the truth settling heavily between them. “I should’ve seen it too. But I was too caught up in her. I wanted to believe her so badly that I didn’t question anything.”

They sat in silence for a long time, both of them grappling with the betrayal, with the web of lies she had spun so carefully around them. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was no longer directed at each other. They had both been played, both drawn into her orbit without realising they weren’t the only ones.

“What are we going to do?” Lando finally asked, his voice flat, almost numb.

Oscar shook his head, still unsure. “I don’t know. But we can’t let her keep doing this.”

Lando clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening as he stared at the floor. “You’re right. She’s not getting away with this. Not anymore.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, but his heart was still heavy. The woman he had fallen for, the woman he had trusted, had betrayed him in the worst way possible. But it wasn’t just about him anymore. Lando was hurting too, and that made it all the more unbearable.

As the weight of their conversation settled into the room, Oscar felt a slow, creeping nausea rise in his chest. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the realisation that this wasn’t some accident—this wasn’t some chance encounter where they’d both been caught off guard by the same woman. No. She had known exactly what she was doing.

He stared at the floor, the memories flooding back in sharp, painful clarity. The first night in Chicago, the way she had appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to him with that effortless grace, that smile that had seemed too good to be true. The way she’d known exactly how to draw him in, offering just the right amount of vulnerability to make him want to protect her. All those months, he’d thought it had been fate, a serendipitous meeting. But now, with Lando sitting across from him, every detail took on a darker shade.

“Lando…” Oscar’s voice cracked, barely able to say the words. “She knew about me, didn’t she? From the beginning.”

Lando looked up, his eyes still clouded with shock but now narrowing as if trying to piece together the puzzle himself. “What do you mean?”

Oscar took a shaky breath. “You’ve mentioned me to her, haven’t you? Before I even met her in Chicago, you must have talked about me. About the team. She… she knew who I was before she ever sat down next to me at that bar.”

Lando’s face paled. His gaze shifted to the floor, his mind working through the same awful revelation that had struck Oscar. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I mentioned you all the time. You’re one of my best mates. Of course, I talked about you.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Oscar’s stomach turned as he recalled every little interaction with her—the way she’d seemed to know exactly what to say, how to flatter him without being too obvious, how to make him feel like he was the one discovering her, unravelling her layers. But it was all calculated. She’d had him pegged from the moment she walked in, likely before that.

“She didn’t just randomly pick the seat next to me at the bar,” Oscar said, his voice low, thick with bitterness. “She knew exactly who I was, Lando. She played us both from the start.”

Lando sat there, silent, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at his hands. His fingers twitched like he wanted to punch something, anything, but he stayed still, the tension simmering just below the surface. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“She’s been manipulating both of us,” he muttered, his voice a growl of disbelief. “I told her about my life. My friends. My job. And all that time… she was using it against me. Against you.”

The full scope of her deception crashed down on Oscar. He felt sick to his core. She’d never cared. Every sweet word, every glance, every night they’d spent together—it had all been part of her plan. She had known exactly who he was and had targeted him, exploited his loneliness, his vulnerability.

The first time they had kissed, that electric moment in her apartment, had seemed so real. He could still feel the warmth of her hands on his skin, the way her lips moved against his as if they had been made for each other. But now it felt cheap. Hollow. A lie that had wrapped itself around him until he could barely breathe.

"She must have known everything about me before she even introduced herself," Oscar continued, his voice darkening with anger. “That night at the bar, the way she played coy, like she didn’t know me from Mclaren. It was all an act. A setup.”

Lando was silent for a moment, still staring at the floor. Then, slowly, he looked up at Oscar, his expression hard. “She probably knew exactly how to make you fall for her. She listened to me talk about you enough. Your hobbies, your career, your life. She had every piece of ammunition she needed.”

Oscar could feel his pulse quickening again, a sick mix of rage and humiliation rising in his throat. She hadn’t just lied—she had orchestrated everything with precision, knowing full well how to ensnare him. And the worst part? He had let her. He had fallen for every carefully laid trap.

"She played the long game," Oscar whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I thought… I thought it was real. I thought she was real.”

“I did too,” Lando muttered bitterly. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to shake off the disgust that was settling over him. “God, how could we have been so blind?”

Oscar swallowed hard, the bitterness turning into something darker, more dangerous. He could picture her face so clearly—those dark, hypnotic eyes that had drawn him in from the very beginning, the way she tilted her head just enough to make him think she was letting her guard down for him. And all along, she had been playing him like a violin, hitting every note perfectly.

“She knew what she was doing,” Oscar said, his voice thick with fury. “She knew exactly what she was doing, Lando. She was never confused. Never torn. She set us both up like pieces on a chessboard.”

Lando’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he nodded in agreement. “She knew how to make us feel like we were the ones in control, like we were helping her. But she was pulling the strings the whole time.”

They both sat in silence, the weight of their shared betrayal settling into the room like a storm cloud. Neither of them spoke for what felt like minutes, both of them lost in the horrible realisation of just how thoroughly they’d been manipulated.

“I can’t believe it,” Lando finally said, his voice hollow. “I can’t believe she was capable of this.”

Oscar shook his head slowly, the ache in his chest deepening. “I guess people like her… they don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want.”

And that was the bitter truth. She had never cared about either of them. She had only cared about what she could take, what she could gain. And they had both been too blind, too caught up in her web to see it.

“What do we do now?” Lando asked, his voice a mixture of anger and defeat.

Oscar didn’t have an answer. His whole world felt like it had been ripped apart, every certainty he had stripped away. He didn’t know what came next. But one thing was clear— She wasn’t going to walk away from this unscathed.

“We tell her it’s over,” Oscar said firmly, though his heart ached even as he said it. “She doesn’t get to play us anymore.”

Lando nodded, his jaw set. “She’s not getting away with this.”

But even as they made their decision, Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling that the damage had already been done. He had given a part of himself to her that he couldn’t get back, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was all a lie, the hurt lingered like an open wound.

As they prepared to face her, Oscar couldn’t help but wonder how much of him had been taken in by her. How much of him was still trapped in that web she had spun so perfectly around him.

And whether he would ever truly be free of her.

part four

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