Chapter 164
callum
Rain can soak your clothes. Storms can shake the walls. But nothing compares to the way a man’s unwanted hands on your body brands you. They call it contact. I call it war. –Aurelie
The rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it had only gotten worse.
Silverstone was drowning. Rain beat down on the asphalt under our shoes, thunder cracked above us, and lightning flashed against the dark grey clouds overhead.
And yet, none of it compared to the fucking maelstrom brewing inside me, because still, all I could think about was Morel’s hands on Aurélie.
I thought of the security footage Ivy was able to obtain, where Morel had shoved Aurélie against a wall and touched her like he had any fucking right—violating her.
Even without audio, I saw the exact moment he admitted to tampering with her car.
Her body had locked up, horror flooding her features.
He should’ve been penalized on the spot.
Suspended. Fucking banned from the sport.
Instead, he got to walk away yesterday with a bloody nose and not one single reprimand.
Meanwhile, Auri and I had been instructed to leave the goddamn paddock. As if we were the problem, rather than the ones fighting against the problem.
The people who governed this sport were a bunch of bloody fucking twits.
Qualifying had been a shit show. Aurélie scraped into P10 thanks to the crash, her car barely pieced back together today, according to Kimi. Thank God for him being able to acquire intel from the team when they all seemed to alienate Auri.
I’d ended up P9 after abandoning mine in the pit lane when the red flags waved and I thought—fuck, I thought she was dead.
The panic of not knowing if she was moving or breathing.
The relief when I saw her climb out. The horror that none of it mattered to the FIA.
Or to Luminis, who buried their heads in the sand.
Or even to Orion, Morel’s team, who hadn’t said a single fucking word.
They were probably waiting for their new owners to polish the mess and snuff the PR nightmare before it became too public.
It was all poison. And it was spreading.
The rain pelted the umbrella I held over us, a steady thrumming as Aurélie and I crossed the lot together.
For once in the public eye, we weren’t pretending, we weren’t hiding.
Her hand was in mine, and it hit me… this was our first time in the paddock like this.
Two weeks since we’d made things official on that live interview, and it had taken everything in me not to touch her too much in public yet. . But now the whole world could see.
Currently shielded under a flimsy umbrella, untouched by the rain that battered the ground around us. We looked formidable.
Maybe we were.
We were a dream team together, but to them, we were their worst fucking nightmares.
Reporters swarmed the doors, cameras strobing and voices cutting through the rain.
“Fraser, why did you threaten Adrian Morel after the crash?”
“Aurélie, are you standing by your sabotage claims?”
“Do you regret making your relationship public?”
Aurélie squeezed my hand and shifted closer to me, almost subconsciously.
“No comment,” I called out to them over the rain. I sounded even, controlled, but I felt far from.
The cameras kept clicking, the echoes chasing us as we pushed into the FIA headquarters building attached to the paddock—sterile white walls, glass doors, and polished floors meant to scream authority.
The thunder dimmed to a dull hum outside, but the pressure inside was heavier. Dooming, if you will.
I pulled the umbrella closed, water dripping onto the tiles as we cut down the corridor.
“Think they’re going to delay the race?” Aurélie wondered, the lilt to her voice giving away her nerves. Glancing at her, you’d have no idea that she was battling nerves at all. She was an expert at controlling her composure.
Maybe I should take some notes. I thought I was the same way… until I lost my shit yesterday.
I chuckled dryly. “No shot. It’s Silverstone. They’d run it in a hurricane if it sold tickets.”
Henric and Dom stood at the doors of the conference room, waiting like wardens. Their grim expressions told me they weren’t just here to escort us. They were here to remind us where the leash belonged—grim faces, folded arms, and all.
Henric’s tone was all false patience, clipped French accent telling me. “Fraser. Dubois. You know the procedure. One driver at a time.”
Aurélie bristled, but I let go of her hand and pressed my hand against her spine. “No,” I said. “They’ll speak to us together.”
Dom shifted, uneasy. “That isn’t how these meetings are handled.”
“It is today,” I snapped, my own patience wearing thin.
Dom opened his mouth to respond, but I beat him to it.
“We’re not here as two separate drivers.
We’re here because of an incident that involved both of us yesterday.
One of you nearly let her die,” I narrowed my eyes at Henric, “and one of you tried to stop me after another man laid his fucking hands on her.” I gestured to Aurélie’s face, the purpling bruise along her temple and cheekbone that she hadn’t bothered to cover with makeup today.
She knew the impact it would have when she dropped this bombshell on everyone.
Aurélie crossed her arms, her tone all stern fortitude and seriousness. Fuck, it was a turn-on when she was like this. “If they’re afraid of two voices, maybe it’s because they know how badly they’ve fucked up.”
Henric exhaled loudly. “Aurélie—”
“Let me rephrase,” she quipped. “Maybe it’s because you know how badly you fucked up.
You let someone sabotage my car right under your nose.
What, you didn’t confirm my set up preferences matched what was submitted to the FIA?
Isn’t that part of your job? Aren’t you supposed to protect your drivers?
Or were you just complicit in letting this happen because you regret signing me? ”
“Either they see us together,” I cut in, quiet and final, “or they won’t see us at all.”
Lightning flashed outside, white light cutting across the glass wall of the corridor.
For a split second it lit up the conference room ahead.
Rows of suits were already seated, faces turned toward us, waiting patiently.
Not a single person moved. They looked like vultures sitting there, patient and hungry.
Aurélie’s arms tightened across her chest, her chin tipped higher. I pressed my palm more firmly against the small of her back, guiding her forward as I pushed the double doors open. Together, we walked in.
The air inside the conference room was colder, too clean, almost like disinfectant was trying to cover the corruption.
Stewards lined one side of the table. Victor Reihnardt, the FIA president, sat at the head with sharp eyes and an absent smile.
Henric and Dom slipped in behind us, flanking like guards escorting prisoners to their hearing.
“Dubois. Fraser,” Reinhardt said tersely. “We’ll begin with individual statements—"
“No,” I cut in. My voice echoed. I didn’t raise it. Didn’t need to. “We will both be present.”
A flicker of irritation flashed across a steward’s face. Another shifted in his seat. Reinhardt squinted at me. Papers were uselessly shuffled around.
You could hear a pin drop.
Aurélie and I stood next to each other, waiting for them to concede. Eventually they would, when they realized we weren’t budging and there was a race in a matter of hours. And people paid a fuck ton of money to see us compete.
Reinhardt nodded once and gestured to four empty chairs with the air of authority of a man used to being obeyed. So we all sat, side by side. Henric, Aurélie, me, and then Dom.
“Gentlemen, ladies,” Reinhardt began, hands steepled.
At least he had the decency to nod in Aurélie’s direction.
That was when I noticed she was the only woman in the room.
Of fucking course. “This meeting will address several matters arising from yesterday’s events: Driver Dubois’ allegations of tampering and assault, Driver Fraser’s abandonment of his car during a qualifying session, and the subsequent altercation in the paddock.
We will take statements, review evidence, and determine any necessary action. ”
Henric’s face was a practiced mask. “Luminis is committed to driver safety,” he started, leaning forward on the table, palms flat. “But we must caution that allegations must be demonstrable—”
“—and verifiable,” Dom interjected, shooting Henric down.
He looked at us, then at the stewards, as if daring anyone to dismiss the obvious.
Thank fuck he was on our side of this whole debacle.
I didn’t know what to expect heading into this meeting.
Maybe because he’d known me for so long, knew who I was at my core and what I stood for. “This is about safety.”
Henric’s pivot was subtle but sharp. “Of course. But reckless accusations destabilize teams and reputations.”
Aurélie’s silence had a weight to it. I watched her carefully, heart palpitating as I scanned the bruise on her temple, the band of purple encircling her wrists where Morel’s hands had been, the way she held herself together even though the stiffness in her shoulders said otherwise.
Reinhardt flicked through a folder. “We will begin with factual questioning. Mademoiselle Dubois,” he dipped his chin as he met her gaze, and she nodded back, as if acknowledging the respect of using her title in French, “please describe the events in the corridor.” His tone implied neutrality, but his eyes were already searching for anything to discredit us.