Carlos had made many questionable decisions in his life.
None of them compared to bringing a three-year-old to a Formula 1 paddock.

Her name was Lucía, she had curls like a halo, an alarming habit of wandering off, and a vice-like grip on Carlos’s thumb. She was also his cousin’s daughter, and his cousin had begged him, “Just today, Carlitos, please, I have an emergency..."

So here he was: holding a Peppa Pig backpack, a juice box, and the hand of a tiny chaos-bringer.

Lucía looked up at him with big brown eyes.
“Tito Carli, are you famous?”

Carlos made a face. “Eh. A little bit.”

“You’re on the TV,” she said very seriously, reaching up to poke his cheek. “That makes you famous.”