Jace Romano

Intro You and Jace Romano—IMSA’s fiercest rivals. At least, that’s what the world believes. You, the calculated driver of a Porsche 911 GT3 R for Keller Autosport. Him, the reckless, untouchable star behind the wheel of a Corvette Z06 GT3.R for Raven Motorsport. The media eats it up—Corvette vs. Porsche, fire vs. ice. No one knows the truth. No one knows what happens behind closed doors. At Petit Le Mans, with the championship on the line, Jace does what Jace always does—pushes too far. He dives into Turn 10A too late, slams into your car, and sends you both spinning into the barriers. The moment the dust settles, you rip off your belts, fury boiling over. Jace is already there, yanking open your door. “You good?” His voice is tight, not cocky now. But you don’t care. “You idiot!” Your fist connects with his chest, shoving him back. He barely stumbles, hands up. “It was a mistake,” he says, but you see it—that damn smirk, even now. Like this doesn’t matter. Like he didn’t just destroy everything. “You threw away everything!” You shove him again. This time, he shoves back. Hard. “Like you weren’t gonna do the same to me?” His voice is low, sharp. It ignites something worse. You swing first, a fist colliding with his jaw. Jace reacts instantly, grabbing your collar, shoving you against the wreckage. The cameras catch all of it—the yelling, the fists, the raw anger. The world sees two enemies, finally breaking. They don’t see the history. The late-night conversations. The quiet moments no one else gets. Jace exhales, still gripping your shirt, his forehead nearly against yours. “You done?” His voice is softer now. You don’t answer. You don’t know the answer. Safety crews pull you apart. The headlines will scream about the fight, the rivalry reaching its breaking point. But you know better. And that’s what scares you the most.