Beautiful Mess.

I was already fuming, and the sun hadn't even hit its peak yet.

The leather of the steering wheel burned against my palms as i gripped it tighter, staring at the gleaming front of the Grand Circuit like it personally offended me.

It looked expensive, clinical even.

Too perfect.

The kind of place where people didn't sweat, they performed.

I hated how it made me feel.

Like i didn't belong.

Like i wasn't enough, even though i'd worked my entire damn life to be more than just the daughter of Claudia Araneta and Raphael Gutierrez… the forgotten sister of Sebastian.

I was here because i wanted this.

Because i had something to prove to myself, if not to the rest of the world that constantly refused to see me.

And yet, here i am, sitting in my car for a full minute, trying to unclench my jaw before i stepped out.

Yesterday was hell.

But it didn't matter. Not to Lorenzo.

The way he looked at me like i am a disappointment.

Just handed me that glare of his and acted like he already knew who i am.

Typical.

I slammed the car door harder than i needed to and headed toward the track, boots biting into the gravel with every step.

I had tied my hair into a tight ponytail, dressed in the same black compression top and pants combo from yesterday, only this time i layered a thick jacket over it.

For armor.

I spotted him the moment i walked in, Lorenzo Buenaventura.

As cold and polished as ever, leaning on the rail near the pit, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable.

God, I hated how unbothered he looked.

"Glad you could join us, Gutierrez," he said, not even glancing my way as he scribbled something down.

"It's 8:01," I snapped. "The call time was eight."

"That's still late. One minute late is still late."

I let out a breath, forcing my hands into my pockets so i wouldn't strangle him right there.

"You want me here earlier, write it down. I follow instructions."

He finally looked up then, and for a second, I wished he hadn't.

Those dark eyes…,sharp, unreadable, met mine with a stare that felt like it could cut glass.

"I don't babysit. This isn't a boarding school. If you need reminders, maybe you're not ready for this."

Something in me burned.

I didn't respond.

Not because i agreed—but because if i opened my mouth, I'd scream.

And i don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got under my skin.

Instead, I walked straight to the garage where the training car was waiting, mechanics buzzing around like flies.

Everyone know what to do.

Everyone but me, apparently.

The morning dragged.

Every instruction came with a side of sarcasm.

Every turn i made was questioned.

Every small adjustment was followed by that tone—you know, the one people use when they're pretending to be patient but really think you're an idiot.

"Ease into the corner, don't murder it,"

Lorenzo barked through the headset as i drove the circuit. "You're not dragging Jupiter here."

I bit my tongue. 

Don't respond.

Don't give him anything.

Another lap.

"Too fast in the hairpin. You're fighting the wheel."

Another breath.

"You're braking too late again. For someone with your background, you should know better."

I yanked the e-brake too hard on the cooldown lap and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut.

Sweat clung to my neck, my shirt, my spine.

The sun was higher now, sharp enough to make my head throb.

Lorenzo walked up without hesitation.

"I don't know what's worse, your turning or your ego."

I turned to him so fast i nearly lost my balance. "Are you always like this or is it just me?"

He didn't flinch. "I treat all my trainees the same."

"I'm not your trainee," I snapped. "I'm here to train. That doesn't mean you get to talk to me like i'm a piece of shit."

His jaw ticked. "Then stop acting like you're doing everyone a favor by showing up."

I stared at him, heart pounding.

The other staff had gone completely silent now.

One of the engineers awkwardly looked away, rubbing his nape.

Someone dropped a wrench in the background, but no one dared move.

Lorenzo didn't blink.

"You want this spot? Earn it," he said. "Not because of your last name, Not because you're bored. Earn it or leave."

I opened my mouth, then shut it.

My skin was buzzing from anger.

My hands were shaking.

I could feel my own pulse behind my eyes.

But i didn't say anything.

I just turned and walked back toward the locker room, vision slightly blurred.

The rest of the afternoon was no better.

We didn't talk unless we had to.

Every exchange was clipped, tense.

He gave me directions like i am a robot.

I followed them like i didn't have a brain of my own.

We weren't teammates.

We were opponents.

Locked in some unspoken war neither of us wanted to admit we started.

By the time the sun began to dip, I was done. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.

As i packed up my gear, I could hear his footsteps behind me.

I refused to turn around.

"You drive like someone told you to be here."

I stopped tying my shoe, fingers tightening around the lace.

"You follow everything i say, but you do it like you're on autopilot. Like you don't actually care."

I straightened, slowly facing him.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, voice low. "You scream at me when i don't follow you, and you insult me when i do."

He stepped forward, arms crossed. "I want you to want this. Not act like it's punishment."

"You don't know what i want," I said.

"Then tell me."

I stared at him, unsure if i wanted to throw my helmet at his face or sit on the ground and cry.

Neither option felt satisfying.

He sighed.

"Reflect, Gutierrez. Figure out if you really want to be here. Because from where i stand, you don't."

And that did it.

I grabbed my bag, yanked the strap over my shoulder, and marched out of the garage without another word.

The moment i got into my car, I screamed.

Loud, raw, from the bottom of my lungs.

I slapped the steering wheel, hitting the horn by accident, making it blare into the empty parking lot.

I didn't care.

I was too angry to care.

He talked to me like i was a robot.

Like i didn't bleed.

Like my being there was some rich girl whim and not a choice i made for myself.

Not something i fought for behind closed doors while my parents didn't even notice i was gone.

Jupiter's stable was the only place where i ever felt seen.

And today, I'd left him behind just to be yelled at by a man who didn't even believe i deserved to be there.

-

I drove without thinking, fists tight on the wheel, breathing shallow.

I didn't want to go home, not yet.

I pulled into a vacant lot a few blocks away.

It used to be a field, now mostly dirt and broken glass, surrounded by tired fences and even more tired buildings.

It was quiet.

Forgotten.

Like me.

I killed the engine and slammed the door open, storming a few feet into the lot before shouting out into the evening air.

"ASSHOLE!"

I don't care who heard me.

I don't care if someone called the cops.

"Who the hell does he think he is?! 'Reflect,' he says. Reflect?! I've reflected my whole damn life!"

My chest heaved as i threw my bag onto the ground, pacing in circles.

"Of course i want this! Why the hell else would i be here, letting some smug-faced control freak lecture me like i'm sixteen?!"

I stopped, breathing ragged, eyes stinging.

My voice cracked. "You don't know what i've been through. You don't know what it's like to grow up invisible in a house where everything matters except you."

I crouched down, grabbing a handful of gravel and squeezing it like it would hold me together.

Then i whispered to no one, "I just want to be good at something. I just want someone to notice."

The wind picked up.

The lot stayed quiet.

No applause.

No congratulations.

No one around to say i was doing great.

Typical.

I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve, breathing deep, grounding myself.

It's fine.

I don't need him.

I don't need anyone.

I would show him.

I would show all of them.

I'd show them what a forgotten girl could do when no one's watching.