The next day at the arena…
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the 60th edition of the World Derby Racing Season, coming to you live from the beautiful country of Costa Rica!" The announcer's voice boomed across the arena.
"This year, we've witnessed a thrilling sensation from our new female competitor—daughter of the late Simon Milton—Patricia Milton! She has taken the derby world by storm, winning the first three challenges: the Speed Race, the Hurdle Race, and the Obstacle Course, with magnificent skill and tricks beyond imagination.
"And not only that—she has shattered her father's long-standing records one after another. Incredible! A true champion prodigy.
"Now, the world awaits her final test—the almighty Marathon Race. The ultimate trial of a derby racer. The race to true championship glory.
"Will she amaze the world once more, reclaiming her father's title as the World's Second Champion Derby Racer? Or will she falter, only to rise again another day?
"The world is filled with anticipation and excitement, eager to witness history unfold. Only twenty minutes remain until the showdown. Racers, get ready!"
......
"Wow. I can't believe the entire arena is packed to the brim… again," Patricia said as she peered through the entrance, taking in the massive crowd.
She wore a white derby racing outfit with black boots and gloves. Her hair was neatly tied into a high ponytail beneath her black helmet.
"Are you kidding me? There are hundreds of thousands outside too, watching on the big screens. It's chaos and mayhem out there!" Alisha exclaimed. "You've really attracted the publicity, Sis. And it's major."
Patricia sighed, stepping back from the entrance. "I really did it this time, didn't I? Now I feel even worse. What if I fail and make a fool of myself? I'll be embarrassed for life!" She slumped her head into her hands, leaning against the wall.
"Hey. Don't you dare say that," Alisha scolded gently, moving closer and placing her hands on Patricia's shoulders. "Look at me."
Patricia sighed, lifting her head to meet Alisha's steady gaze.
"You can do this. You're going to win. You're going to reclaim Father's title as the Second World Champion Derby Racer. You've got this."
Patricia hesitated. "But… what if I fail?"
"Then you'll pick yourself up and redeem yourself in the next round—like a true champion."
A new voice echoed through the space. Both sisters turned toward the newcomer.
It was Congressman Saccoth.
He wore a white-and-black suit with polished shoes, his brown hair neatly combed beneath a matching top hat. In his hand, he carried a black-and-gold staff.
He approached with a bright smile, stopping at a respectful distance.
Patricia smiled and stepped forward. "Uncle Philip…"
"Patricia," Philip replied warmly, inclining his head in greeting.
He then turned toward Alisha, who eyed him awkwardly before offering a shy smile and a quick nod. Clearing her throat, she muttered, "I… I'll leave the two of you to talk. Excuse me."
She hurried off as though chased by hounds.
Patricia sighed and shook her head.
"It seems your dear sister still feels shy in my presence," Philip remarked with a chuckle. "Does she think I'm a monster who will gulp her down for being my son's girlfriend? If only she knew it was planned all along… then it would be a different story."
Patricia laughed softly. "Indeed. But we'd better not tell her. Otherwise… she'll be the one turning into the monster, not you."
Philip chuckled. "Ha! I suppose so." His expression then grew serious as he stepped closer. "Are you ready?"
Patricia sighed. "I wish I was… but I'm not."
She paused, exhaling deeply. "I'm scared, Uncle Philip. I don't know why, but… I have this unsettling feeling that something bad is going to happen. Something really bad. I can't shake it."
"Hey… hey…" Philip soothed, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay. I understand. This is the big deal—the true test of a champion. The race that will prove whether you are truly the prodigy everyone believes you to be. And yes, it's a lot. You're scared of failure, of letting everyone down. But remember, Patricia… failure is not your enemy. Fear is.
"So face it head-on. Tell yourself you can do this. And even if failure meets you, you'll rise again and redeem yourself—like a true champion. That's what being a champion means: even if you're knocked down, you get back up and try again.
"So even if you lose today, it won't be the end. You'll rise, you'll fight, and you'll win. Trust yourself. You've got this."
Patricia felt tears sting her eyes as his words sank in. Without hesitation, she embraced Philip tightly in a warm hug.
"Thank you, Uncle Philip. Thank you," she whispered.
Philip gently patted her back. "You're welcome, my dear. And know this—I'll always be here whenever you need me." His voice softened as they slowly disengaged from the hug.
Patricia nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Uncle Philip. You being here already means so much. It feels… like Father is here too, through you. Because I know for certain he would've said the same thing if he were here." She wiped a tear from her cheek.
Philip chuckled softly, brushing away a tear from her other cheek. "That's true… though I know he would've done far more than I did."
"You mean like making me run a marathon around the training arena just to prove the point? Yeah… he definitely would've done that," Patricia said with a laugh.
"Indeed. Ah… but it would all be worth it, wouldn't it?" Philip asked.
"Yes. Yes, it will all be worth it," Patricia replied with a smile. "Thank you."
Just then, the announcer's voice boomed across the arena:
"Ladies and gentlemen, please find your seats—the race will begin in ten minutes! Racers, get ready—it's almost time!"
Patricia turned to Philip. "It's almost time. I have to get ready."
Philip nodded. "Alright, my dear. Good luck."
Patricia started to walk away, then turned back.
"Hey… I wanted to ask. Ummmm...Where's Bernard? I didn't see him yesterday during training. Considering he's the one who always woke me up at hellish hours before dawn to prepare for the marathon… now he's AWOL. What gives?"
Philip looked at her for a long moment, a flicker of mixed emotions flashing across his face before he sighed and averted his gaze.
Patricia immediately sensed his discomfort. "Is everything okay, Philip? What's going on?" she pressed.
Philip met her eyes, hesitated, and opened his mouth to speak when—
"Why are you so invested in the Crisby boy? Have you fallen in love with him, or what?"
A smug voice rang through the space. Both heads turned to see Jethro approaching. He was impeccably dressed in a black-and-gold suit, his trademark smirk plastered across his face—the same smirk that always made Patricia's stomach churn in disgust.
"Be careful, my pretty doll," he drawled. "You know I hate seeing you fall for another man. Jealousy is a dangerous thing, my pretty doll." He closed the distance, standing directly in front of her. "Very dangerous. So be careful… otherwise it can truly become deadly." His whisper was venomous.
Patricia rolled her eyes. "I don't think I owe you any explanation about any of my relationships, Mr. Morales. And last time I checked, you and I don't have the kind of relationship that requires me to keep jealousy in check. So please… don't exaggerate things."
Jethro chuckled—a sound that made the skin crawl.
Patricia twisted her face in disdain but quickly straightened it, masking her disgust. She couldn't risk him realizing her feigned civility was fake, that she was his enemy, not his ally.
"Pretty doll… pretty doll… ah, you really are something," Jethro murmured. "No wonder you're worth gold. You're truly.... spectacular." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you're already treading on thin, sharp ice, my beautiful doll. Walking among wolves. So if you don't drop that little pride of yours and become... mine… you're going to find yourself in one hell of a doozy. And trust me you won't like it."
Patricia glared at him, her confusion mixing with fury.
Jethro smirked. "Damn… how I love seeing that fearless, fiery tigress burning inside those beautiful eyes. I can't wait to see what it will do in my bed, inside my sheets. Tsk… but don't worry. You'll understand what I mean… very, very soon."
He stepped back, still smirking. "Good luck, my beautiful doll… because you're going to need it." With that, he turned and walked away.
Patricia quietly watched his retreating figure. His words made the unsettling feeling in her stomach burn even deeper.
She turned to Philip, who approached and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, Patricia. Don't listen to his nonsense. Focus on your goals. Believe you can achieve them—even without him. And remember, 'It started with a race, and it will end with a race'. Good luck. Godspeed, child."
Patricia nodded and smiled. Philip patted her gently before turning to leave.
She sighed, remembering her question about Bernard. She was about to ask when—
"Racers, get ready! Only three minutes left until the race begins! Please take your horses and come to the starting line!"
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena, followed by loud shouts from the crowd.
Patricia exhaled, then glanced one last time at Philip's retreating figure before heading toward the stall where Liberty was kept.
She arrived to find the stablehand already brushing Liberty's mane, preparing him for the race.
Patricia's smile widened as she saw the golden-brown-haired man in a loose white shirt, black slacks, and boots, carefully tending to the horse. His blue eyes glowed in the soft morning light streaming through the windows as he brushed with gentle precision.
"Can I turn into a horse just to get a taste of that gentle care?" she teased.
Isaac turned, his smile bright. "It depends—if all my love and care is more than enough for one horse to be pampered with." He set the brush aside and walked toward Patricia. "But alas, who could say no to those gorgeous black eyes, that beautiful black wavy mane, that cute pointy nose, those alluring rosy lips…" He paused, wrapping his arms around her waist. "…and the most stunning body that melts me with desire just looking at it. Damn… such a beautiful horse."
Patricia chuckled, looping her arms around his shoulders. "Well, in that case, if compliments like that are in the book, maybe I'll let my handsome groomer take his time grooming me until he's satisfied."
She leaned closer until the tips of their noses touched.
Isaac smiled and whispered, "Well… your wish is my command, my beautiful mare."
He leaned in, gently claiming her lips while holding her close, their bodies pressed together.
Breaking the kiss, he whispered against her lips, "Are you ready?"
Patricia nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be. Still a little nervous, though."
Isaac kissed the tip of her nose and rubbed her shoulders. "Hey, don't worry. You've got this. You're going to win, and you're going to claim that title. I know it. Just trust yourself. You've got this."
Patricia smiled. "Thank you, my love. I promise I'll do my very best to win—and to reclaim Father's title. I need this victory to gain more influence in the Club. With Governor Wilby and Senator Williams no longer allies, their recent rivalry has already destabilized the balance. The majority are turning against Senator Williams and Governor Rocksworth. It's only a matter of time before the dismantling begins. I need this win to rally more people to my side… so we can finally stand against Montenegra."
"And you will, darling. Trust yourself. You'll be fine. I believe in you," Isaac said firmly.
"Racers, it's time for the race! Take your positions!"
The announcer's voice thundered across the arena, sparking a wave of shouts and roars from the crowd.
"This is it," Patricia whispered.
Isaac wrapped her in a hug and kissed her forehead softly. "Go. You've got this. I love you."
Patricia nodded. "I love you too."
They shared a brief kiss before Patricia approached Liberty, ruffled his mane, and mounted the saddle.
"Good luck, my love. You've got this," Isaac called.
Patricia smiled at him, then nudged Liberty's sides. The horse began to trot toward the arena entrance, waiting for her name to be called.