A Big Mistake
**Enrico**
Another millionaire Formula One event, and I was present as one of the protagonists. It was simply remarkable, a recognition of all my dedication. To be there, enjoying the finest champagne money could buy, along with other privileges accessible only to the wealthiest. And I was one of them. Rich, young, at only twenty-eight years old, a three-time Formula One world champion, with impressive career numbers. That's what all the specialized sports media outlets were saying.
I remembered my father and how many times he told me I would never reach the top, that I wouldn't even manage to become a driver, let alone a Formula One driver. However, today I wasn't just a Formula One driver, but also one of the best in the category, always on top of the podium, receiving the deserved recognition for my dedication and effort.
Now he wanted everyone to know he was my father and how proud he felt of his Formula One champion son, a famous and internationally recognized driver. But I didn't want everyone to know, because he didn't deserve anything from me, much less any kind of consideration for being my father. He never did anything other than discourage me and call me a "stubborn brat."
Every time I used the money I earned myself to take a step towards my ultimate goal of becoming a racing driver, he would call me that. If he chose not to help me, not even with encouragement, why would I have any kind of consideration for that same person?
"Why the serious expression?" one of my teammates asked, approaching me while holding a champagne glass.
I merely smiled, but there was no real joy in that smile, and Bruno Garcia noticed it immediately.
"Don't tell me you visited your father in Seattle again," he said, knowing me well.
Bruno was Brazilian and in his first year of Formula One, it was his rookie year. We were the drivers of a highly successful team, which was a great advantage in any driver's career. Despite that, our friendship was instant, and on a celebration night after his first podium, I ended up sharing things that no one else knew.
"You hit the nail on the head," I admit, as it was indeed the reason for my bad mood.
"I don't understand why you still visit him, Enrico."
Well, I didn't understand either, I thought with a touch of sarcasm. In fact, I could easily cover all his expenses and completely ignore him. But apparently, I'm a masochist, I enjoy the way he always found ways to hurt me. Joseph Bianchi pretended to everyone to be a proud father of his son's success, but he always found ways to belittle me in some way.
I didn't respond to my friend. He already knew how I felt and what I thought.
I looked around the ballroom, filled with well-dressed people, women flaunting expensive jewelry and haute couture dresses, and men parading women.
The truth boiled down to that, and I had no intention of doing the same. Not up until now.
"What do you know about Fiori's mysterious girlfriend?" I asked, curious.
I had been away from the circuit for two weeks after a minor car accident, and when I returned for the Canadian Grand Prix, I discovered that the previously confirmed bachelor, Lorenzo Fiori, was in love and, according to backstage rumors, had met her just last weekend but was already talking about marriage plans.
I hadn't managed to see the much-discussed girl and only knew her name, Rachel Mitchell, which piqued my curiosity.
"I believe he must be hiding her from you, buddy," Bruno suggested playfully.
"Do you doubt that's possible?" I raised an eyebrow with cynicism.
"Of course, I don't doubt it one bit," Bruno quickly protested. "I know you guys are extremely competitive, you're rivals in the competition and can't accept a defeat. I don't think it's hard for you two to decide to compete for a girl now, especially when she's as beautiful as she is."
"You're wise, Bruno. Very wise." I wasn't joking, and my teammate understood.
Bruno emptied his glass, and we continued our lively conversation, discussing topics related to the competition and the performance of the last race. Fiori was my main rival in the competition, as he had also clinched the Formula One world champion title three times. If he won the race in Montreal on Sunday, he would surpass me in the points tally. That's something I'm not willing to allow. Moreover, knowing he was in love, as everyone said, sparked many ideas in my mind.
The conversation with Bruno momentarily made me forget about my father and the words he had uttered during my last visit. I decided to enjoy the night, acknowledging the fact that I was among the select few guests. However, my moment of tranquility was abruptly interrupted when I looked around and saw a familiar face, someone I had been searching for intensively in the past two months. It was the girl I had shared a strange night with, and even though memories of our time together were muddled in my mind, I couldn't forget that beautiful face.
"I need to get to that girl before anyone else sees her," I warned Bruno, about to leave him alone and go to where my girl was.
"Wait, Enrico!" Bruno tried to hold me back, but I didn't hear what he said.
I hurried in her direction, but the crowd separating us prevented me from advancing at the speed I desired. I did my best to maintain politeness and not act rudely by pushing people to get to her.
"You here," I said as soon as I got close enough. "I've been looking for you all over Seattle!"
She was dressed discreetly, quite different from what she had worn at the club the night we met. But even if she was in disguise, I'd recognize her smile, always tinged with cynicism, even when she tried to hide it, as she was doing now.
"Sorry, you must be confusing me with someone else. I've never seen you before," she replied with a falsely sweet tone that contrasted with the audacious girl I had held in my arms.
I wanted to keep arguing because I was absolutely sure it was her, but at that moment, other people entered my field of vision, including Fiori himself. He approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist, clearly marking his territory.
"I think it's time for you to meet my girlfriend, Rachel Mitchell," Fiori proudly introduced her.
I quickly assessed my options as I shook her hand, because I was sure she was the same girl from the club in Seattle. However, the fact that she was with Fiori might explain why she was denying knowing me.
What a small world!
"I'm sure we've met before..." I persisted, thinking of revealing where and when I knew I had met her.
Fiori, however, seemed to remember something at that moment, so I waited to see what he had to say.
"You probably met Sarah, Rachel's sister," he suggested.
I intended to challenge that ridiculous suggestion of his, but at that instant, another girl joined the group, and she was identical to Rachel.
"You're twins!" I pointed out the obvious, feeling disoriented now.
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