It frustrated Xavier. He couldn’t let down his walls with soone else watching, so instead of breaking down, he redirected that tension by bickering with Alexandre. Ironically, without realizing it, the exchange helped ease the tightness in his chest. It wasn’t the emotional release he expected, but it was sothing, and it left him feeling just a little lighter.
As for Alexandre, his refusal to leave wasn’t out of disregard for Xavier’s emotions. The investigation into Hera’s accident was still ongoing, and he wanted to be the first to update Xavier and the rest of Hera’s close circle and her harem with any findings. Maybe it was strange, even to himself, that he was being so considerate of his love rivals. But deep down, he understood: if the others couldn’t accept him, Hera might never fully accept him either.
After all, he was the outsider disrupting the balance they’d managed to maintain. Fitting in, gaining their trust, wasn’t just the smartest move. It was the only way forward.
While Hera slept, unaware of the storm brewing around her, and while the two continued to bicker, the investigation into her accident took a dramatic turn. The mastermind behind it all was beginning to panic.
The Arnault family had stepped in, exerting imnse pressure on the authorities handling the case and mobilizing every available resource to uncover the truth. With their influence in play, no amount of money or connections could shield the culprit any longer. Fear had begun to creep in.
anwhile, Dave had contacted the Parisian governnt and secured approval to bring in his own team of investigators. With their green light, the case was now being escalated to an international level. The discovery of tampering in Hera’s car shifted the narrative; it was no longer just an accident; it was attempted murder. And now, they were hunting for the person responsible.
Hera’s growing status only intensified the urgency. She was no longer just a rising star or a celebrity; she was being recognized as a national treasure. Not only was she an internationally acclaid jewelry designer, but also a world racing champion. She had every right to be treated as a figure of national pride, and with that ca higher levels of protection and global recognition.
Typically, such titles were reserved for elderly figures, guardians of tradition or history. People like the last surviving artisan of an ancient embroidery technique, or a musician who could still perform on rare traditional instrunts. Sotis, it was granted to dical pioneers whose breakthroughs helped humanity. But now, soone like Hera, young, talented, and already leaving a mark on both culture and sport, was being given the sa honor.
But Dave didn’t pull strings to give Hera the title of national treasure just because he could. It wasn’t a decision made out of personal desire, but one rooted in belief. Hera was a multi-talented figure, a positive influence not only in the arts and sports but also in advocacy, especially for won. She represented change, and many people supported that change.
Still, there were critics. So were skeptical, accusing Dave of using his authority for personal gain. His political rivals seized the opportunity to chastise him, using the appointnt as ammunition to question his integrity.
But Dave didn’t waver. After making the announcent, he threw himself right back into his war on drugs, showing the nation that he stood by his decision and remained committed to his broader mission, whether people liked it or not.
His unwavering dedication to national welfare, his transparency, and his actions began to speak louder than the criticisms. Many citizens saw how hard he worked to protect the country and uphold justice, and their support grew stronger.
Besides, it was undeniable: Hera had carried their nation’s flag onto the world stage. Recognizing her achievents and standing by her was not only justified, it was necessary. It sent a clear ssage that both the people and the governnt were behind her, and that attempts to harm soone who brought pride to their country would never be ignored.
When Hera woke up again, dusk was already settling in, and the sky outside had begun to darken. Minerva, Athena, and Liz had returned, but Alexandre and Xavier were still there. The girls were trying to convince the two n to head ho, even just for a change of clothes, a warm al, or a few hours of rest. But Xavier remained stubborn, refusing to leave Hera’s side. It had led to a quiet standoff between them.
A faint grunt from Hera suddenly drew their attention back to the hospital bed. She was awake.
Xavier imdiately reached for the thermos beside him, unscrewed the lid, and poured so warm water into a cup. Supporting the back of her neck, he gently helped her drink.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.
Hera took a few slow sips, letting the water soothe her dry throat before replying. "Pretty good," she said with a small smile, but it was a lie.
In truth, she felt like hell. Her broken arm and leg were throbbing with pain, and the itching beneath the cast was maddening. She wanted nothing more than to scratch it, but she couldn’t move much. So no, she definitely didn’t feel "pretty good."
"Any updates about the incident earlier?" she asked, trying to shift the focus away from herself.
"Not yet," Alexandre began, his tone serious, "but the investigation just confird the incident was man-made. Both your brake plate and ergency brake were tampered with, and the fuel tank was leaking, too. Which ans that even if you’d tried to continue the lap and wait for rescue, the car would’ve still stalled or crashed once the fuel ran out. Either way, you were set up for an accident. The investigators concluded that your decision to stop and jump out was the best possible call—it saved your life."
He paused. The weight of the words hung in the air. His father was heading the investigation and had been feeding him real-ti updates, long before the information would hit the news or social dia.
"Yeah," Hera said quietly. "I know."
Everyone stared at her.
"You knew?" Alexandre asked, eyes widening.
"During the first lap, when I realized the brakes weren’t working, I knew right away, soone wanted dead," Hera said, her voice calm despite the weight of her words. "Then, I started thinking, if it were trying to kill a driver, what would I do? I’d tamper with both the brakes and the fuel tank, quietly, carefully, so it wouldn’t be obvious at first. That way, the signs could be dismissed as chanical failure while the real evidence gets buried during the investigation."
She paused briefly, then continued, "So I started watching the fuel gauge. And sure enough, it was dropping far too fast. That confird it, if I didn’t act quickly, the car would either burst into flas or stall mid-track and still crash."
She t their eyes. "My only chance was the finish line. I tid it, waited for the right mont, and just before the car slamd into the crash cushion, I jumped from the window. I aid for the wedge of the cushion to avoid hitting the ground too hard. It was risky, but it was the only way I’d survive."
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