The morning was quiet at Daytona International Speedway—until flashing red and blue lights shattered the calm. Bubba Wallace, gearing up for final practice, barely had time to process the commotion before a group of FBI agents approached his hauler.
“Mr. Wallace, we need to speak with you,” the lead agent said, his voice firm.
Confused but composed, Bubba set down his coffee. “What’s this about?”
The agent glanced around, lowering his voice. “We have reason to believe you’re in possession of highly classified data.”
Bubba laughed. “Classified? I drive a race car for a living.”
But the agents weren’t joking. They handed him a folder—a surveillance image showing a man resembling him sneaking into a restricted facility at midnight. The figure carried what appeared to be a laptop loaded with NASCAR’s most guarded aerodynamics secrets.
Bubba shook his head. “That’s not me. Someone’s setting me up.”
The FBI wasn’t convinced. They escorted him away as the garage buzzed with speculation. Who wanted him out of the Daytona 500? What was really on that laptop? And more importantly—who was behind the frame job?
As Bubba sat in an interrogation room hours later, a shadowy figure watched from afar, smirking. The real mastermind had just played their first move.
