Chapter Four
◆◆◆
Jax
The Singapore morning was already heavy — humid air pressing against the tinted windows of the team car as it glided away from the Mandarin Oriental, the city skyline shrinking in the rearview like a glittering postcard.
Eighth place last night had felt like progress.
Points on the board. A clean drive, no incidents, better than the string of DNFs, mechanical gremlins, and low finishes that had haunted the first half of the season.
But progress wasn’t victory. And victory was the only currency that mattered when Marcus and the owners were watching every lap, every post, every off-track moment.
Jax leaned back against the cool leather seat, long legs stretched out as far as the luxury sedan allowed, phone resting on his thigh.
The debrief notes from his race engineer were already waiting in his inbox — tyre degradation graphs showing where he’d lost time in sector two, sector times overlaid with Lucas’s for brutal comparison, a blunt bullet-point line about “improving consistency in traffic and overtaking aggression.” Tomorrow was the long haul to Austin — red-eye flight, time-zone whiplash, then a full sim session and strategy briefing.
He needed to show up sharp. Focused. Serious.
No more headlines about late nights or casual flirting.
No more giving the boardroom suits ammunition.
He scrolled to his contacts and hit call on his grandmother’s name. Brisbane was three hours ahead — she’d be up, probably in the kitchen with the old electric kettle whistling, radio tuned to ABC News Breakfast like clockwork, the volume low so she could hear the birds in the backyard.
She answered on the second ring, voice warm but edged with that familiar dry affection.
“Jaxon Callaghan. You’re alive.”
He grinned despite himself, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction. “Morning, Nan. Is it?”
“Yup morning here, love. Saw the race. Eighth. Better than crashing into a wall, I suppose.”
“High praise. Thought you’d at least say ‘not bad for a boy who used to lose his go-kart in the backyard.’”
She snorted — the same snort he’d heard since he was thirteen, the one that meant she was laughing but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it. “Don’t tempt me. I still have that photo of you upside down in the hedge. Black eye and all. Might frame it for Christmas this year.”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep that one for blackmail.”
“Already on the mantel.”
He laughed — low, real. The sound filled the quiet car, easing the tension that had settled in his shoulders since Marcus’s hotel-suite meeting.
Nan had raised him after his parents died — Mum to breast cancer when he was eleven, Dad to lung cancer two years later.
Thirteen years old, suddenly living in a small Queenslander house in Brisbane with a grandmother who’d never planned to start parenting all over again.
She’d done it anyway. No fuss. No tears in front of him.
Just meals on the table every night, rules about homework before karting practice, and the quiet, unspoken rule that he could cry if he needed to — but he’d better get back up the next day.
She’d never let him wallow.
And she’d never let him quit.
“How’s the neck?” she asked, softer now. The kettle whistled in the background — she was making tea, probably the way she liked with two sugars and a splash of milk, the same way she’d made it for him after every bad race when he was a kid.
“Fine. Physio tomorrow in Austin. Still clicks a little, but it’s holding.”
“Good. Don’t push it. You’re not invincible, no matter what those commentators say on the telly.”
“I know.”
A beat. The familiar clink of her spoon against ceramic, stirring slowly.
“You sound tired, love.”
He exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Yeah. Team’s on my back about image again. Sponsors want serious. Owners want results. Feels like I’m auditioning for a different job half the time.”
“You’re not auditioning,” she said firmly, the same tone she used when he was a teenager and tried to skip school to go karting. “You’re the driver. You’ve always been the driver. The rest is noise.”
He smiled faintly. “Noise is loud when it’s your seat on the line.”
“Then turn it down.” Her voice sharpened, but there was a slight catch in it — something he hadn’t heard before, a tiny waver that made his chest tighten.
“You’ve got the talent. You’ve got the fire.
You’ve had it since you were an awkward kid sneaking out at dawn to practice on the back roads with that second-hand kart I bought you.
Don’t let them snuff it out with suits and headlines. ”
He paused, listening closer. She sounded… slower. Not weak, exactly — Nan had never been weak — but the rhythm of her words was different. A little more breath between sentences. A little less snap.
“You okay, Nan? You sound a bit… off.”
A small huff. “I’m fine. Just old bones, love. Getting up early to watch a race on the other side of the world takes it out of me these days. Nothing a cuppa won’t fix.”
He frowned, the car humming along the expressway. “You sure? You’ve been watching every session this weekend?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Though I did nod off during qualifying. Blame the heat here — it’s been muggy even for Brisbane.”
Jax’s grip tightened on the phone. She’d never admitted to nodding off before.
Never admitted anything took it out of her.
She was the one who’d sat through entire nights in hospital waiting rooms when he’d broken his collarbone at sixteen, the one who’d driven him to physio at 6 a.m. without complaint.
“Nan—”
“Don’t fuss,” she cut in, but gently. “I’m still here nagging you, aren’t I? That’s proof enough I’m kicking. Now stop worrying about your old Nan and focus on that next race. Austin’s a beast — hot, bumpy, unforgiving. You’ll need your head in it.”
He swallowed. “Yeah. I will.”
“You’re still my boy who used to cry when he lost a race. And you’re still the one who got back in the kart the next day. You’ll figure this out. You always do.”
He swallowed again, throat tight. “Love you, Nan.”
“Love you more. Now go win something next time so I can brag at bridge club. They’re getting tired of hearing about your eighth places.”
He laughed, softer this time. “Deal. I’ll do better.”
“You will. Call me after Austin. And eat something proper — none of that hotel rubbish. And Jaxon?”
“Yeah?”
“Slow down a little yourself. The world won’t end if you take a breath.”
They hung up.
The car merged onto the airport expressway. His phone pinged — social media notification.
He opened it absently.
The photo from last night stared back at him.
Him and Aria on the rooftop — shoulder-to-shoulder, both smiling, city lights glittering behind them. She looked small next to him, emerald dress hugging her curves, eyes bright. He looked tall, imposing, arm almost brushing hers. They looked… good together. Like they belonged in the same frame.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “We do make a great-looking couple.”
The thought passed as quickly as it came.
He opened the debrief file instead.
Focus.
Travel today. Unpack last night’s data tomorrow. Show them he was a serious contender.
But Nan’s voice lingered — slower, a little breathier. The first real crack in the woman who’d always seemed unbreakable.
He pocketed the phone and watched the city blur past the window.
Eighth wasn’t enough.
But it was a start.
◆◆◆
Aria
Aria stepped out of the shower, steam curling around her ankles, towel wrapped tight against the lingering humidity.
Singapore had left her skin sticky even after the scalding water — the kind of heat that seeped into your bones and refused to leave.
She wiped the mirror with her forearm, caught her reflection: eyes still a little red-rimmed, but concealer would fix that.
Foundation, mascara, a swipe of nude lip. Armour.
Her phone pinged on the vanity.
She picked it up, expecting a flight update from Lena or a manager note about the Austin promo schedule.
Min-Jae.
Really Aria? Manipulative even from you.
Her stomach dropped like a stone.
What? she typed back, heart already racing, fingers trembling just enough to make the letters stutter.
Trying to make me jealous.
I don’t know what you mean?
Whatever. It’s not working.
She stared at the messages, confusion twisting into something sharper, hotter.
She opened X.
The photo was everywhere.
Her and Jax on the rooftop — shoulder-to-shoulder, both smiling, city lights glittering behind them.
She looked small next to him, eyes bright in the flash, a small laugh caught mid-breath.
He looked tall, imposing, arm almost brushing hers.
They looked… cozy. Happy. Like they were sharing something private.
Hot new couple alert? Has Aria found a new man after Min-Jae split? Jax Callaghan and Aria Moon — sparks flying at Marina Bay Sands? The height difference is EVERYTHING (fire emoji)
Comments scrolled fast.
OMG have her and Min-Jae broken up? I’m devastated (crying emoji). I prefer her with Jax — they are a smoking hot couple Look at them! Perfect match. She looks so happy with him. Finally someone who matches her energy. Min-Jae who? This is the upgrade we needed
She stared at the photo.
They did look close. She looked like she was genuinely enjoying his company — unguarded, softer than she’d felt in weeks.
Min-Jae was jealous.
That meant he was watching.
That meant he still cared enough to react.
The realization settled in her chest — sharp, hopeful, dangerous.
She set the phone down, towel slipping as she reached for her robe. The silk slid cool against her damp skin.
If Min-Jae wanted to play games…
She could play louder.
She could give him something to really stew over.
A soft knock at the door.
“Aria? It’s me.”
Lena.
Aria tightened the robe belt and opened the door.
Lena stood there with two iced lattes and a paper bag that smelled faintly of fresh pastries — probably from the hotel café downstairs. Her ponytail was a little messier than usual, dark circles under her eyes hidden behind light concealer, but her gaze was sharp as ever.
“Thought you might need caffeine before the airport run,” Lena said, stepping inside and setting the coffees on the vanity. “And croissants. Because Singapore humidity deserves carbs.”
Aria managed a small smile. “You read my mind.”
Lena studied her for a beat, head tilted. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since the party. And you look… I don’t know. Like you’re holding your breath.”
Aria hesitated. The words were right there — the breakup, the text, the silence, now this photo and Min-Jae’s jealous reply. But saying it out loud still felt like making it permanent.
“I’m fine,” she said instead. “Just tired. Long weekend.”
Lena didn’t buy it. She handed Aria one of the coffees, then pulled out her phone and opened X without a word. The same photo filled the screen.
“This is blowing up,” Lena said quietly. “Fans are losing their minds. Shipping you and Jax hard. And… Min-Jae’s name is trending in the replies. People asking if you two are over.”
Aria took a slow sip of coffee, the cold bitterness grounding her. “Yeah. I saw.”
Lena set her phone down. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready for. But if this is connected to why you’ve been off… I’m here. No judgment. No running to Robert. Just us.”
Aria looked at her — really looked. Lena’s eyes were steady, patient, the same way they’d been when Aria had cried after her first major rejection, when she’d doubted she’d ever debut. Lena had never pushed. She’d just stayed.
The dam cracked.
“He dumped me,” Aria said, voice barely above a whisper. “Over text. Yesterday morning. While I was on the jet here.”
Lena’s face softened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t tell you last night because… I don’t know. I was still hoping it wasn’t real. Then the photo happened. And now he’s texting me like I’m the one playing games. Like I moved on overnight.”
Lena exhaled slowly. “He’s an idiot. And a coward. Dumping you over text after everything? That’s not love. That’s control.”
Aria’s eyes stung. “I know. But seeing him jealous… it hurts and it feels good at the same time. Like maybe he still cares.”
Lena reached out, squeezed her hand. “You don’t need to make him regret anything to prove your worth. You’re Aria Moon. You just owned Marina Bay in front of thousands. You don’t need his jealousy to feel powerful.”
Aria nodded, throat tight. “I know. But right now… I kind of want to.”
Lena gave a small, knowing smile. “Then use it. Channel it. Let him see you thriving. Let him watch you shine without him. But don’t let it eat you up. You’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to be angry. Just don’t let him decide how you heal.”
Aria let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Lena. For not making me feel stupid for still caring.”
“You’re not stupid. You’re human.” Lena pulled her into a quick, fierce hug. “Now finish that coffee. We’ve got a flight to catch.”
Aria hugged her back, the weight in her chest shifting — not gone, but shared.
She glanced at the photo on her phone one more time.
Min-Jae could watch.
She’d give him something worth seeing.