Chapter 3 – The Ghost of Emilio Reyes

The headache came out of nowhere.

One second, she was sitting in the damn meeting room, pretending she knew what the hell was going on. The next, a wave of memories slammed into her skull like a Formula car hitting a wall at full speed.

It was like drowning in someone else's life.

The roar of engines. The scent of burning rubber. The snap of a steering wheel jerking out of control. Laughter. Anger. The taste of victory. The sting of disappointment. A childhood spent chasing speed.

And pain.

So much pain.

Her vision blurred, breath hitching as flashes of Emilio Reyes' past crashed into her. The rush of races, the heat of competition, the sharp bark of an all-too-familiar voice...

"AGAIN! YOU CALL THAT A CORNER?"

Coach Reyes.

The memories hit faster now. She saw him, stocky, broad-shouldered, always wearing sunglasses like some B-list action star. His arms crossed, a permanent scowl on his face, barking orders like a drill sergeant who got lost and ended up at a racetrack instead of a battlefield.

"You overcorrect, you crash. You undercorrect, you crash. You breathe wrong, you crash. You want to keep crashing, Emilio?!"

The scene shifted, a teenage Emilio, sweaty and exhausted, standing next to a kart, barely able to hold his helmet.

"You're being dramatic, Coach."

"Dramatic? DRAMATIC? You just spun out on Turn 3 like a telenovela heroine fainting at a party!"

Present-day Emilio (her) let out a snort.

The memories were so vivid she could almost feel the sting of Coach's palm smacking the back of her head not hard, but just enough to remind her to stop acting like an idiot.

She blinked, shaking her head. The meeting room was silent, everyone staring at her like she'd just had a stroke.

Coach Reyes narrowed his eyes. "What the hell was that?"

Shit. Did she say that out loud?

She cleared her throat. "Nothing. Just… remembering something."

Coach frowned, looking suspicious. "Well, maybe you should've remembered earlier instead of sitting there like a zombie. Now that you're awake, let's talk about why you nearly killed yourself on the track."

She opened her mouth and then it hit her.

She did remember.

The accident. The loss of control. The moment everything went wrong.

The last race.

A turn too sharp. A rival too close. A split-second decision that ended in disaster.

And suddenly, the weight of it all came crashing down.

She wasn't just in Emilio's body.

She was Emilio Reyes now.

Which meant she had to race like him, talk like him, be him or everything would fall apart.

Her stomach twisted.

Shit.

The moment of silence stretched uncomfortably in the meeting room.

Coach Reyes stared at her like she'd just announced she had amnesia. Technically, she had. But there was no way in hell she was admitting that.

She needed to say something. Something Emilio Reyes would say.

She leaned back in the chair, exhaled through her nose, and crossed her arms. "Alright, fine. What do you wanna know, Coach?"

Coach Reyes narrowed his eyes. "I wanna know why my best driver suddenly forgot how to drive."

A mechanic across the table snorted. "Didn't look like he forgot, looked like he was trying to send himself into the afterlife at 200 kilometers per hour."

Laughter rippled through the room.

She forced herself to smirk. "What can I say? I like making things exciting."

Coach Reyes did not laugh.

Instead, he slapped a folder onto the table so hard it made her flinch. Crash analysis reports. Lap times. Car damage assessments.

"I don't care about exciting, I care about winning." Coach Reyes pulled out a printed telemetry chart and stabbed his finger at a point on the graph. "Right here. Last lap, final corner. You braked late, turned in too aggressively, and oversteered. Why?"

Her brain scrambled for an answer.

The problem was… she actually knew.

Now that the memories were settling, she could recall every second of that lap. The tension in her arms as she gripped the wheel. The split-second decision to push harder, too hard. The way the car snapped sideways before she could correct it.

It wasn't a mistake. It was a gamble.

And she lost.

She inhaled. "I thought I could handle it."

Coach Reyes scoffed. "Thought?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I miscalculated. Won't happen again."

Coach let out a short laugh, not a nice one. "Damn right it won't, because if you pull that stunt again, you won't be driving for this team anymore."

The air in the room turned heavy.

Everyone knew Coach Reyes was serious.

The memories she had of Emilio, the real Emilio told her that he and Coach had a complicated relationship. A lot of respect. A lot of yelling. And a whole lot of second chances.

But this wasn't just about one crash.

It was about whether she was still the same Emilio Reyes they all knew.

And if she wasn't…?

Then she was screwed.

She sat up straighter. "Look, Coach. I messed up. I get it. But I've learned my lesson, alright? Next time, I'll get it right."

Coach didn't reply immediately. He just studied her, gaze sharp, weighing her words.

Then, finally, he sighed. "You better. Because next week, you're back in the car."

Her stomach dropped.

"Next week?" she blurted out.

Coach raised an eyebrow. "You hit your head harder than I thought? That was always the plan. If you think I'm letting you sit around sulking, you're dead wrong."

Panic crept up her spine.

One week.

One week before she had to prove she was still Emilio Reyes.

One week before she had to race for real.

And the problem?

She had no idea if she actually could.

---

One week.

One freaking week.

She barely survived five minutes in a racing meeting without exposing herself as a fraud, and now she was expected to drive a Formula car at 300 kilometers per hour in front of an entire team that would notice if she so much as twitched the wrong way.

No pressure.

She was still sitting at the meeting table, staring blankly at the telemetry charts, when she felt a sharp slap on the back of her head.

Smack.

She jolted forward. "Ow, what the hell?!"

Coach Reyes was standing beside her, arms crossed. "You're spacing out. Again. What, your brain still rebooting?"

She rubbed the back of her head, glaring. "Do you hit all your drivers, or am I just special?"

"Just you."

Of course.

The other team members were watching with barely contained amusement. One of the mechanics leaned over and whispered, "Welcome back, man. We missed the Coach Reyes head slaps."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, feels great to be loved."

Coach Reyes clapped his hands, snapping everyone back to focus. "Alright, meeting's done. Get out of here. Emilio, you stay."

She groaned. "Why?"

"Because I said so."

Fantastic.

The others shuffled out, leaving her alone with a man who looked like he ate rookies for breakfast and washed them down with motor oil.

Coach sat on the edge of the table, arms still crossed, staring at her like a puzzle missing half its pieces. "So. You remember how to drive, or do I need to start you on a go-kart again?"

She almost choked. "A... a go-kart?!"

Coach shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time I've retrained an idiot."

Okay. Nope. She was not about to let this man downgrade her to a kiddie kart.

She squared her shoulders. "I remember how to drive."

Coach gave her a long look. "Good. Because if you crash again, I'm making you clean the garage floor with a toothbrush."

She scoffed. "That's just cruel."

"Life's cruel. And so am I."

Before she could argue, Coach Reyes grabbed his sunglasses from the table and pointed at her. "Test run. Tomorrow morning. Be ready."

And just like that, he was gone.

She sat there in stunned silence.

A test run. In the car. Tomorrow.

…Oh, she was so screwed.