Chapter 4: The Race That Was Never Meant To Be Won
I stared at the picture on my phone until my eyes started to hurt.
My father.
Richard King.
The device in my hand.
All connected.
All from the same night everyone told me was an accident.
The screen went dark.
For a moment, all I could see was my own reflection.
A person I barely recognized.
Because an hour ago, I thought I was fighting for a garage.
For a car.
For a memory.
Now I realized I was standing in the middle of something much bigger.
Something my father had died trying to uncover.
Frank watched me carefully.
“Who sent that?””
I looked up.
“I don't know.””
“Show me.””
I handed him the phone.
His expression changed the second he saw the picture.
Not shock.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“You've seen this before,” I said.
Frank didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
“Frank.””
He looked away.
“Where did you get this?””
“My phone.””
“Who sent it?””
“I don't know.””
His jaw tightened.
“You need to leave this alone.””
I laughed.
A short, bitter sound.
“That's what everyone said when my father died.””
Frank looked at me.
“What?””
“Everyone told me to accept it. Everyone told me accidents happen. Everyone told me to move on.””
I stepped closer.
“But nobody told me the truth.””
His eyes softened.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“No.””
My voice rose.
“You were protecting a secret.””
The words hit him.
I could see it.
Because they were true.
Frank looked toward the road.
The city lights reflected in his eyes.
“I promised your father.””
There it was.
The one thing everyone used whenever they wanted me to stop asking questions.
A promise.
A secret.
A reason I was supposed to accept silence.
“What did he ask you to do?””
Frank stayed quiet.
“What did my father ask you to do?””
Finally, he spoke.
“He asked me to make sure you never drove this car.””
I looked at the Challenger.
“Why?””
“Because he knew someone would come looking for it.””
“Who?””
Frank looked back at me.
“The same people who came tonight.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Tyler?””
“Not Tyler.””
He shook his head.
“His father.””
The name sat heavily in the air.
Richard King.
The man everyone in Detroit respected.
The man who built an empire.
The man my father once called a friend.
I looked down at the Challenger.
“He knew this car existed?””
“Yes.””
“And he wanted it?””
Frank nodded.
“Your father found something inside that car.””
I turned.
“Inside?””
Frank hesitated.
“Something Richard didn't want anyone to see.””
I walked around the Challenger.
My eyes moved over every inch.
The hood.
The engine.
The dashboard.
Every place my father touched.
“What?””
Frank looked at the clock.
11:48 p.m.
“We don't have time.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“It means if you're going to River Road, you need to understand one thing.””
He pointed at the Challenger.
“That car was never built for a normal race.””
I opened the driver's door.
“What was it built for?””
Frank stared at the car.
“To prove someone cheated.””
The words followed me as I sat behind the wheel.
The seat felt familiar.
Like my father was still there.
I closed my hand around the steering wheel.
For a second, I wasn't in the garage.
I was seventeen again.
Sitting beside him.
Watching him adjust the controls.
“Feel the car,” he had said.
I had rolled my eyes.
“Dad, I'm literally sitting still.””
He smiled.
“That's when you listen the most.””
Back then, I thought he was talking about engines.
Now I wondered if he was talking about everything.
The warning.
The secrets.
The people around us.
The things he knew but couldn't tell me.
I started the engine.
The sound shook the entire garage.
Deep.
Powerful.
Alive.
Frank stepped back.
His expression wasn't fear anymore.
It was sadness.
“You sound just like him.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
“When he started that car.””
He swallowed.
“Your father looked exactly like you do right now.””
I put the car into gear.
“What happened that night, Frank?””
He didn't stop me this time.
Maybe he knew I wouldn't listen.
Maybe he finally understood that I had already made my choice.
“He wasn't trying to win.””
I paused.
“What?””
“Your father didn't care about beating Richard.””
Frank walked closer to the window.
“He knew Richard had money. Influence. People protecting him.””
“Then why race?””
“Because he knew there was only one way to expose him.””
The engine continued running.
“So what was it?””
Frank looked directly at me.
“A public confession.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Your father had proof. Enough proof that Richard couldn't bury it.””
“Proof of what?””
Frank looked toward the photograph.
“Your father's final race wasn't about speed.””
A pause.
“It was about proving Richard King sabotaged other racers for years.””
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Other racers.
Not just my father.
“How many?””
Frank looked down.
“Too many.””
The answer made my stomach turn.
Tyler's family didn't just destroy my father's life.
They built their success on people who couldn't fight back.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
This time from Tyler.
*Running late? I thought legends were supposed to be on time.*
I stared at the screen.
Frank saw the message.
“He knows.””
I looked at him.
“How?””
Frank didn't answer.
Then another message appeared.
*Bring the old car. I want everyone to see you lose in your father's ghost.*
My anger rose.
But beneath it was something else.
Certainty.
Tyler didn't understand what he was challenging.
He thought he was racing a broken-down machine.
He thought he was racing a grieving daughter.
He didn't know he was racing every person his family had silenced.
I put my phone away.
“I'm going.””
Frank grabbed the edge of the door.
“Wait.””
I looked at him.
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to tell me something.
Something important.
Something he had hidden for years.
But then he stopped.
“Be careful.””
I nodded.
“That's it?””
He looked at me sadly.
“No.””
His voice dropped.
“Your father didn't die because Richard was faster.””
I waited.
“He died because he trusted someone who was standing beside him.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who?””
Frank looked away.
“I don't know.””
That answer bothered me more than anything else.
Because Frank knew.
Maybe not the name.
Maybe not the full truth.
But he knew enough.
I drove toward River Road.
The streets of Detroit passed by through the windshield.
The same city where my father became a legend.
The same city where his name still meant something.
People didn't know what happened tonight.
They didn't know a race was about to begin.
They didn't know the past was about to come back.
When I arrived, hundreds of people were already there.
Word traveled fast.
Especially when the story involved the Carter name.
Cars lined both sides of the road.
Engines roared.
People stood on sidewalks holding phones.
And in the middle of it all sat Tyler's GT-R.
Perfectly repaired.
Shining under the streetlights.
Tyler leaned against it wearing a smug smile.
When he saw me arrive, he laughed.
“You actually came.””
I stepped out of the Challenger.
The crowd went quiet.
Everyone recognized the car.
Someone whispered.
“That can't be…”
Another voice answered.
“That's Jimmie Carter's Challenger.””
Tyler looked around.
His smile faded slightly.
He hadn't expected that reaction.
He expected people to laugh.
He expected me to be embarrassed.
Instead, people were staring at him.
Not me.
Tyler pushed away from his car.
“You brought a museum piece.””
I closed the door.
“You brought your father's money.””
The crowd reacted.
Tyler's face tightened.
“Careful.””
“Why?””
I walked closer.
“Your father always afraid of the truth too?””
That hit something.
His smile disappeared.
For a second, I saw it.
A flicker of fear.
Then it was gone.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.””
“Maybe.””
I looked at the crowd.
“But tonight, everyone gets to find out.””
Tyler stepped closer.
“This ends with you losing.””
I looked at the road ahead.
The same road where my father took his final breath.
“No.””
I looked back at him.
“This ends with the truth catching up.””
The starter stepped between us.
The crowd moved back.
Engines started.
Tyler got into his GT-R.
I got into the Challenger.
And just before the race began, my phone lit up one more time.
A message.
Unknown number.
May you like
Three words.
*Don't trust Frank.*
