Chapter 5 Don't Let Them Define You

Tasha’s POV

MY FINGERS tightened instinctively around my phone the second I stepped out of the training facility. The noise inside Vanguard still echoed faintly behind me, but my head felt louder than everything else combined.

Bianca’s voice kept replaying inside my mind.

Some things aren’t meant for people like you who hides something…

The way she said it. The way her eyes lingered on me afterward. Like she knew something. Or at least suspected enough to make me nervous.

I hated how quickly that anxiety crawled under my skin. I hated that one conversation was enough to drag me back into memories I spent years trying to bury.

By the time I reached the dorm hallway, my chest already felt tight.

I unlocked the door quietly and stepped inside. The room was empty for once. Lila probably still had class.

Good.

Because I suddenly needed silence more than anything.

I sat down slowly on the edge of my bed and stared at my phone for several seconds before finally pressing call.

The line rang twice before it get answered, “Tasha?”

My throat tightened embarrassingly fast at the sound of his voice.

Old Man Reyes always did that to me somehow. Maybe because he was the only person in my life who ever sounded steady no matter what kind of storm I walked into.

“You called early,” he continued when I stayed quiet for a second too long. “That usually means one of two things. Either Vanguard finally exploded because someone touched the wrong engine… or my kid is overthinking again.”

Despite everything sitting heavily in my chest, a weak smile still pulled at my lips. “You make me sound dramatic.”

“You are dramatic,” he replied immediately. “You just hide it better than other people.”

I leaned back slightly against the wall behind my bed and closed my eyes.

The familiar sound of tools clanking faintly somewhere on his side of the line reached me. He was probably still at the shop.

Still fixing engines. Still pretending he wasn’t getting old. The thought made something ache inside me unexpectedly.

“How’s Monaco?” he asked after a moment, his tone gentler now. “Still too rich and shiny for your taste?”

“You have no idea,” I muttered quietly.

He chuckled softly, but it faded quicker than usual. Then his voice lowered slightly. “What happened?”

I swallowed. Nothing ever escaped him. Even through a phone call.

“Nothing happened,” I answered automatically.

“Tasha.”

Just one word. But it carried enough patience and familiarity to make my chest tighten again.

I stared down at my shoes quietly. “I’m okay.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

A long silence settled between us. Not uncomfortable. Never uncomfortable. Just careful. Because both of us knew there were certain topics we circled around instead of walking straight into.

And one of those topics had a name.

Hamilton.

I rubbed my forehead tiredly before finally speaking again. “Someone at school asked about my surname today.”

The line went quieter. Not disconnected. Just… still.

“What exactly did they ask?” he said carefully.

I hated how careful he sounded. Like we were standing near something fragile enough to break.

“They just said my surname sounds familiar,” I admitted softly. “Not directly. Just… questions. Comments. People noticing things.”

Old Man Reyes exhaled slowly on the other side of the line. “That all?”

“That all?” I repeated, letting out a short nervous laugh. “You say that like it’s nothing.”

“Because it should be nothing,” he replied firmly this time. “You hear me? You did not build your life just to spend it afraid of ghosts.”

I looked down at my hands quietly. 

Easy for him to say. 

He wasn’t the one carrying the surname. He wasn’t the one who saw those headlines at fourteen years old and realized his entire existence came from a tragedy people still remembered.

“I just…” I stopped, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want people looking at me differently.”

“They already do,” he answered honestly.

That surprised me enough to make me blink.

“You’re smart,” he continued. “You’re talented. You got into a school full of rich spoiled racers with students who probably grew up believing money makes them untouchable. Of course they look at you differently.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It’s not supposed to be comforting,” he said bluntly. “It’s supposed to be true.”

I sighed quietly and rested my head back against the wall again.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then his voice softened. “How are the students treating you?”

The question sounded casual. But I knew him too well. He was asking if they were hurting me. If I was alone here. If I regretted leaving home.

And suddenly, for some reason, my throat felt painfully tight. Because I was tired. Tired of whispers. Tired of pretending everything rolled off my back. Tired of acting unaffected every time someone looked at me like I didn’t belong.

I didn’t answer. Apparently, that was answer enough. 

Old Man Reyes sighed quietly. “Kid.”

“I’m trying,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

“I know you are.” His voice came softer now. Warmer. “You spent most of your life hiding because you thought your father’s mistakes would follow you forever. But listen to me carefully, Tasha. You are not him.”

I shut my eyes tightly.

“You don’t get to punish yourself for a life you didn’t choose,” he continued. “And you definitely don’t let rich university kids decide your worth for you.”

A shaky breath escaped me. “What if they find out?” I asked quietly.

“They won’t hear it from you,” he replied calmly. “And even if they did someday… then you stand up straight and survive it.”

My chest hurt unexpectedly after hearing that. Because he made it sound simple.

And maybe part of me wished it actually was.

I opened my mouth to answer, then suddenly froze when the dorm door opened. Lila stepped inside carrying books against her chest.

My heartbeat jumped immediately. Her eyes moved toward me and the phone in my hand. And for one terrifying second, panic rushed through me so fast I almost dropped it.

Because I had no idea how much she heard.