The scandal
894 Words
~Lucien Vale~
The moment I stepped out of my matte-black McLaren, the storm hit.
Hundreds of reporters, cameras, and screaming fans swarmed the entrance to the old practice track. Flashes exploded like gunfire. Microphones thrust toward me like spears. The roar of the crowd was deafening.
“MR. VALE! Is it true they found performance-enhancing drugs in your locker?”
“Lucien! How long have you been doping to win championships?”
“Are you going to be stripped of your titles?”
My jaw clenched so tightly it sent pain shooting through my skull. The insomnia that had kept me up for weeks made everything feel sharper, more volatile. These parasites could smell blood, and they were closing in for the kill.
A bold female reporter shoved her mic inches from my face. “Sources say banned substances were discovered in your belongings after the last race. Care to comment?”
I stopped walking. Slowly, I turned toward the sea of cameras, letting them see the ice in my eyes.
“I don’t cheat,” I said, my voice low but cutting through the chaos. “I’ve never needed to.”
Clara, my PR manager, immediately stepped in front of me, trying to create a barrier. “Mr. Vale will not be taking questions at this time. We are fully cooperating with the investigation. This is clearly a targeted attempt to sabotage his career.”
But the press wasn’t backing down.
“People are calling you the biggest fraud in racing history!”
“What does your father think about this scandal?”
“Is this why you’ve been so dominant the last two seasons?”
Fury burned hot in my chest. I gave them the coldest smile I could manage, the one that had earned me the name Ice King.
“You want a real story?” I said, voice slicing through the noise. “Someone is trying to destroy me. When I find out who it is… they’ll regret ever coming after my name.”
The crowd roared louder. Clara grabbed my arm tightly. “Garage. Now, Lucien.”
I let her pull me away, but not before my gaze swept across the chaotic scene one last time. For a split second, I locked eyes with a young woman standing near the edge of the crowd, dark hair whipping in the wind, desperate expression on her face. She stared straight at me before turning and running toward the back entrance of the track.
I shook the image from my mind. I didn’t have time to care about some random girl.
~~~~~~~~
Inside the dimly lit garage at the far end of the track, the air felt thick and suffocating. I slammed the door behind me, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. Marcus, my chief mechanic, and two senior engineers Ryan and Torres were already waiting, their faces tense.
I didn’t waste a second.
“Who the f**k had access to my locker?” My voice was deceptively calm, but the rage simmering underneath made the room go still.
Marcus stepped forward carefully. “Lucien, we’re all under investigation right now. The league officials already took samples—”
“I don’t give a s**t about the league,” I snapped, pacing like a caged animal. “Those drugs didn’t magically appear in my private locker. Only a handful of people have access. My inner circle. You people.”
Ryan shifted uncomfortably. “Boss, you can’t seriously think one of us—”
“I CAN AND I DO,” I cut him off, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Someone planted that s**t to ruin me. Someone who knew exactly where I kept my gear. Someone close enough to frame me perfectly.”
I stopped pacing and stared each of them down, one by one. The silence was heavy enough to choke on.
“I’ve given every single one of you a career. Money. Opportunity. And now someone wants to burn it all down?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “If I find out it was anyone in this room… There won’t be a place in this industry or this country where you can hide.”
Marcus raised his hands placatingly. “We’re with you, Lucien. We’re already reviewing security footage from the last three races. We’ll figure out who did this.”
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaustion and fury warring inside me. Another night without sleep. My mother’s crash still haunted my dreams, and now the one thing I still controlled was being ripped away from me.
Clara entered the garage, tablet in hand, looking stressed. “The press is getting worse by the minute. We need a real strategy. Fast.”
I leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed, staring at nothing. “Find the bastard who set me up,” I said quietly. “Because if the league strips me of my titles… I’ll burn everything down with me.”
As the team scattered to make calls and check footage, my mind drifted back to the chaos outside. That girl’s desperate face flashed in my head again, dark hair, wide eyes, running as if her life depended on i
t.
I shook it off.
Right now, survival is the only thing that matters.
But something about her refused to leave me.
- Writer
