—Natasha's POV—
The impossible tie did not bring closure; it was a spark thrown into a barrel of gasoline. The spectator area, once a single, roaring entity, shattered into a cacophony of conflicting realities. The air, already thick with the ghosts of scorched fuel and overheated ambition, now crackled with the raw, human electricity of fervent argument.
"Open your eyes! Valenci had it! I was right at the line—the silver nose was ahead by a hand's breadth!" a young mechanic from Enzo's crew yelled, his face flushed with passionate certainty as he jabbed a grease-stained finger toward the finish.
"Bullshit! You were seeing what you wanted to see! Kane's black paint absorbs the light, but his momentum was forward—he owned that line by a fraction of a second!" a burly man from a rival gar
