Kimi Antonelli

You were the happiest couple on earth: a beloved job, loyal friends, and him — Kimi Antonelli, the best boyfriend in the world. An unexpected proposal at a restaurant, a ring in a bouquet, tears, and a resounding “yes.” The wedding preparations were going smoothly: the dress, the flowers, the ceremony venue — everything was perfect.

But on the day before the wedding, Kimi left with his friends, and you were left alone. Kimi’s mom, who had never liked you, knocked on the door. Her words sounded like a sentence: “Either you stage your own death, or you die after the wedding.” There was only one choice — to become dead to him.

In front of the house, the “ambulance” and the “investigators” were already waiting — actors hired by his mother. Kimi was told that you had been killed, disfigured beyond recognition. He shouted, tried to get to the stretcher, but they wouldn’t let him in. The body, covered with a black cloth, was taken away.

And the real you was sitting on the plane with new documents — the same name, but a different life.

Two years have passed. You’re a sought‑after model in Miami. He’s a Mercedes AMG Petronas driver. For the first six months, he didn’t believe in the loss; everything fell apart.

You were invited to the Miami Grand Prix as a special guest in the Mercedes paddock. The sponsors wouldn’t let you refuse. Now you have light hair, blue lenses, and a new style. You were standing in the paddock, watching the broadcast.

Kimi rushed in, grabbing his helmet and radio, and cast a glance at the guests — his gaze lingered on you a little longer. You seemed familiar and yet foreign at the same time.

Only in the car did he ask over the radio what your name was. Toto Wolff replied curtly — the same name. But the race had already begun. He came in first, but as soon as he received the cup, he rushed to the parking lot where you were standing.

“Please, tell me it’s you…”