The factory had a sterile quiet that unsettled Luca as he followed Olivia through the maze of gleaming machinery and computer screens. Razor GP's headquarters in Oxfordshire was like a cathedral to speed — every surface polished, every corner humming with purpose. But something about the place felt heavy, as if memories lingered in the air like ghosts.
Olivia led him down a narrow hallway, past the engineers' war room where dozens of monitors flickered with data streams and simulations. Then, suddenly, she stopped and gestured toward a small room tucked away behind a glass wall.
"This is where we keep our past," she said quietly.
Inside, the dim light revealed a single car — the Razor R19, from the season Matteo had raced before his fatal crash. Its deep navy paint gleamed faintly under the single spotlight, but it was the helmet on themonocoque that caught Luca's breath.
Silver flames curled over a black visor, faded but unmistakable.
Matteo's helmet.
Luca stepped forward, the polished floor reflecting his uncertain expression. He felt like he was staring into a mirror — the same dark eyes, the same tight jaw.
"I never saw this," Luca whispered.
Olivia's voice came softly from behind him. "Not many do. It's almost like no one wants to remember."
Luca reached out instinctively, but his fingers stopped just short of the glass.
"He was good," Olivia continued. "Brilliant, even. But this sport doesn't forgive mistakes."
"He didn't make one," Luca said fiercely. "That crash was a failure in the car's electronics. I've seen thereports."
She sighed. "Yes, the telemetry tells a story, but pressure tells another. Matteo's pressure — it's everywhere here. It's in the parts, the engineers, even in you now."
Luca turned sharply. "I'm not him."
"No," Olivia admitted. "You're Luca. But you carry his shadow."
They stood silent for a long moment.
Then Olivia added, "That shadow can either haunt you or guide you. It's your choice."
Luca swallowed hard and looked down at the helmet again.
"I'm going to finish what he started," he said, voice low but steady.
Olivia nodded. "Good. Because Razor GP isn't just a team. It's a family. And family looks out for each other — even when the track gets dark."
Outside the room, the distant hum of machinery and the faint scent of oil mixed with anticipation.
Luca left the room feeling heavier than before — but also more determined.
The ghosts weren't just memories. They were fuel.