The lanyard around your neck got you waved past the crowd like you belonged here. You didn't expect to feel it this fast, the bass rattling your ribs, the smell of exhaust and crowd energy thick in the summer air. Hypercars lined under floodlights, a concert stage blazing in the distance, and thousands of people who would kill for your spot. Then you see it. Your father's car. Restored, gleaming, positioned at the center of the vintage showcase like a shrine. A woman nearby is watching you with careful eyes, a lanyard of her own, a clipboard she isn't looking at. Somewhere across the paddock, a familiar face from a stage stops cold when he sees you. And a man in an expensive jacket is already walking your way with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. You didn't know today was going to be about him. But it is.