30. Aurélie
The next morning, the paddock was already humming when we arrived, even though it wasn’t much past nine. Steel cases clattered over asphalt, radios buzzed with staticky voices, power tools sounded in the distance as teams tinkered with new setups before the first official sessions.
Silverstone’s air was damp and cool, carrying the scent of fried food drifting from the vendors already setting up outside the gates. It made my stomach churn, and a metallic taste filled my mouth.
Ugh. If I seriously threw up right now, I would be utterly mortified . All the nerves were starting to catch up to me.
I tugged my jacket tighter against the chill. Austria’s heat already felt like a lifetime ago. Here, the gray sky pressed low, threatening rain–the kind of weather that seeped into your bones.
Callum stretched his shoulders once, grimacing as he shifted the strap of his bag. His bruises were still fading, now just faint shadows across his skin, but the way he winced when he moved sent a pulse of worry through me anyway.
“I have to go to the medical center, love,” he said, jerking his chin toward the far end of the paddock. “Doctor wants another look before clearing me to race. Physical therapy after.”
Marco snorted. “Careful, they’ll poke and prod until you squeal.”
“He likes it,” Kimi deadpanned.
Callum just flipped them both off, which only made Marco grin wider.
“Two hours?” Ivy asked, glancing at her phone, preparing for the three meetings stacked before noon. She’d been complaining about it since the flight yesterday.
“Two hours,” Callum confirmed. “Meet back here and get mic’d?” His eyes flicked to me, softening just enough to make my chest ache. He didn’t know what I was up to this morning. Not yet. “Stay out of trouble.”
I gave him a quick nod, distracted, because my phone buzzed in my hand. The screen lit up with a number I knew too well. étienne . This was the first time I’d heard from anyone in my family since the blow-up in Monaco, and now my stomach was roiling for an entirely different reason.
Callum scrutinized me, eyes narrowing skeptically. I gave him a watery smile. “I’ll be fine,” I said quickly, before he could press. “See you in a couple, mon amour.”
He frowned but didn’t push, letting the crowd swallow him as he strode toward the medical center. Marco and Kimi followed, bickering in low voices, Ivy trailing with her usual feline grace.
I waited until they turned the corner, the knot in my stomach tightening, before slipping out of the paddock the other way.
The town office was quiet, tucked into a row of gray-brick buildings not far from the circuit. No crowds, no engines, no cameras. Just the tick of a wall clock and the scratch of a pen across paper as I signed my name one last time.
Aurélie Camille Dubois.
My new address stared back at me in bold type. Not the family estate, not the team-provided flat in Paris. Mine. For the first time ever, I had a place to call my own that wasn’t controlled by anyone but me.
The finality of it settled heavy on my shoulders.
I’d wanted this for months–years, even. Freedom, independence, a space no one else could touch.
But now that the papers were in front of me, it felt less like a beginning and more like cutting a cord I wasn’t sure I was ready to sever.
I’d been so caught up in this new world, in the never-ending turn of events that seemed to be my life, that I hadn’t let myself process any of it.
Across the desk, the notary tapped the papers to straighten them in a pile, droning on about scanning everything to the mortgage company and the attorney’s office coordinating the closing. I barely listened, because the fatiguing fog lingering in my brain made it difficult to concentrate.
Maybe I needed more caffeine. Or something to eat. Probably the latter, because coffee on an empty stomach sounded like my literal worst nightmare right now.
My phone buzzed against the desk. My hand shook as I unlocked the screen, rising from my seat and thanking the notary. As I slipped through her office door, I opened the message thread that I’d been avoiding for the last hour.
étienne
Maman et Papa said you bought a house. Congratulations!!!
I can help you move some things? Or make sure your car is running?
Just that. No apology, no accountability, no mention of Monaco.
My throat closed around the rush of emotions the texts dragged to the surface.
I wasn’t ready to face him, to reopen wounds that still bled when I thought about that massive argument in my hospitality suite.
They’d been livid that I signed with Ferrari without consulting them.
They wanted to control me. étienne had accused me of wanting to be better than him. Called me selfish.
And then I’d come clean about me taking étienne’s seat while he was still in the hospital. That I barely hesitated before accepting an opportunity to participate in testing with Luminis.
Still, they didn’t care. They weren’t proud of my success. They weren’t relieved that I’d gotten myself out of a bad relationship, or happy that I was ambitious. And that fucking stung .
Beneath the hurt, there was an ache I hated admitting to. I missed him. I missed all of them. And soon, I’d have to go back. Closing on my house meant retrieving what I’d left behind. My clothes, my books, the fragments of a life I’d abandoned in one furious break.
Just like that, I wasn’t my parents’ daughter living under their roof anymore. I was alone. Independent. Free.
And yet, as I stepped back out into the grey English morning, the weight of it pressed harder than I expected.
Back in the paddock, the world was too loud. The fog in my head consumed me, bogging me down and making it difficult to process my surroundings. My temples throbbed, but nothing was helping.
I found the group in one of the hospitality areas, right where they said they’d be in a group chat I started earlier.
Marco was grimacing like he’d been handed a death sentence, Kimi muttered something dry under his breath, and Callum sat with his arms crossed in practiced indifference.
Ivy stood at the center in her crisp black clothing, commanding the space.
I wondered what I missed.
Papers fanned in Ivy’s hand. “Interview schedules,” she announced, passing them out one by one. “Yes, your teams will also have them, but I don’t trust teams to manage PR the way I do, so here’s extra prep. Think of it as a gift. I’ll take a round of thank yous now.”
Marco huffed, dragging a hand down his face, and Kimi actually spewed something in his native language. His feathers must have really been ruffled.
Taking my copy, I managed a small smile as Ivy ignored them both. I stared at the black font until the words blurred. My brain refused to process any of it. My body hurt in too many places, the nausea low in my gut making it hard to breathe as I fought it off.
I will not vomit here.
Fuck, maybe I was getting sick.
I rubbed my fingers against the paper, forcing myself to look normal , to act like I was fine, to try to ground myself. I nodded at all the right beats as Ivy briefed us on what to expect.
But I wasn’t listening. Not to Ivy’s rundown, not to Marco’s complaints, not to Kimi’s dry humor. The edges of the page dug into my palm until I realized my hand was shaking. Anxiety eating at me, creating a hollow pit inside me.
This was normally when I would look to Callum for comfort, but something in me was disassociating, my emotions separating from my mind to prevent myself from feeling them. It was a coping mechanism, and it was always my body’s way of telling me to protect myself.
It was probably because this whole docuseries thing threw me for a complete loop, and then the house, and my brother, and the pressure from the FIA. All following a grueling week in Austria, and before that, flying back and forth from Monaco to take care of Callum.
I just needed to slow down for a minute.
“Frenchie,” Ivy’s voice cut clean through my thoughts, and my head snapped up. I hadn’t even realized everyone was staring at me, and I refrained from curling in on myself. I didn’t need them fawning over me right now. I just needed a breather.
Callum stepped toward me, but Ivy put an arm out, her keen eyes never leaving my face. She must’ve sensed I was off, because she inclined her head behind her. “Walk with me.”
I flashed Callum a weary smile before following Ivy without hesitation, weaving through the corridor until the chatter faded.
Only when we were out of earshot of the general public did she slow, glancing once over her shoulder to make sure the boys weren’t trailing.
Then she turned, gaze narrowing in a way that made me feel dissected.
And yet, around her, I didn’t want to shrink. I wanted to lean into her, because another woman would understand all the turmoil I was going through.
“You’re distracted.” It was a stark statement, not a question. It left no room for arguments.
I opened my mouth, trying to think of a reasonable excuse, and closed it again when I realized it was pointless. “Just tired.”
“Don’t lie,” she snapped. “You look like hell.”
I laughed weekly, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Merci.”
“Stop deflecting,” she murmured, her voice softening. “You’re not listening, which tells me something is wrong. What’s going on?”
My throat went dry. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Aurélie, if you insist on lying, at least try to do it better.” She reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a mic pack, stepping close to clip it onto my sweater and feed it through my neckline.
When her knuckles brushed my chest, I flinched.
My breasts were tender, which was a normal sign my period was coming soon, but it didn’t make it any better to deal with.
Ivy paused, her pale green eyes meeting mine. She’d seen it. I averted my gaze, the overwhelming urge to recoil finally surging in full force.
“Ah,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I see.”