Chapter Forty-Seven
Victoria
Heartbreak is a funny thing. I’ve felt it before in my life—when my Mom got her diagnosis. When I found out I was the only disinherited child of a man who split his fortune among his countless other offspring. When Sal died, which left a permanent hole in my heart.
None of those things caused the same deep, resounding, endless ache in my heart that losing Asher does. I’m used to being disappointed, and I’ve felt grief before… but never quite like this.
I barely got to have him, and then he slipped away.
I move through my work like a zombie. My algorithm is just about finished and fully functional, which affords me some extra hours to sleep at night…
but instead of resting, I obsessively run and rerun the race and the crash.
I iterate ideas for future expansion of my software.
I work with others at HQ and even run simulations with Elio several times, but all of it’s done on autopilot.
I’m good at my job so I get things done, but there’s no more excitement in the actions. It’s all just… bleh.
Keith freaks out when he hears about the breakup, while Delilah politely offers to castrate and disembowel Asher for hurting me. I turn her down and let Keith’s platitudes slide off me.
Hunter blows up my phone. Somehow, he uses his worldwide net of connections to figure out that Asher hurt me and offers to destroy him. I nip that bullshit in the bud. I might be devastated, but I’m not vengeful. I’m just… sad.
On my fifth day back in the home, Ilya calls me into his office. I half-expect him to fire me for being such a buzzkill around headquarters, and I almost pretend to go home sick to avoid the meeting… but I muster up my courage and head in.
Declan’s in his office, along with Soren. I’ve seen Soren before but haven’t spoken much with him, aside from my initial interview. At any other time, being faced with the three most important people in leadership might frighten me, but I’m too tired to feel frightened.
“Ah, Victoria.” Ilya waves me in. “Please, join us.”
Declan looks up from the file he’s reading in front of Ilya’s bookshelf, offers me a curt nod, and continues reading. Soren watches me with a perceptive, hawkish gaze.
I must be getting fired—otherwise, why would all of them be here? I try to summon some anxiety… but it doesn’t come.
“Is there a problem?” I slip into a seat.
“No. The FIA has finally made their decision regarding the crash—it took some time because the new evidence we submitted directly contradicted their initial data, and they had to verify.”
That manages to cut through the haze encompassing me. Ulrich deserves to rot in fucking hell for what he did. He could’ve gotten Asher killed.
“And?”
“Ulrich has been suspended for the season, and some of his prior actions are under close scrutiny. I’d be surprised if Thorsten doesn’t rid itself of him.”
I should be elated that justice has been served… but I’m only mildly relieved, and even that’s fleeting.
I manage to muster some strength when I say, “That’s great to hear. His recklessness could’ve had a much more horrible and final outcome.” Pain seeps out of my heart and bathes my chest at the mere thought.
“Yes.” Ilya nods. “We’ve also been chatting a bit about your algorithm. I assume the programming’s finished, and it’s fully functional?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Yes. But… the algorithm is what suggested green tyres—”
“Which was the correct strategy,” Declan mutters, looking up. “I’ve been over the numbers and race stats repeatedly. You made the right call.” He returns to reading.
I already knew that, but it’s nice to hear someone else affirm it. “The glaring vulnerability was that I hadn’t accounted for rivalries. I’ve gone ahead and inputted those that need to be considered for suggestions.”
“Excellent. I assume you’ll be using it for races moving forward?”
The pain returns and redoubles, leaving me breathless. Ilya told me that Asher had demanded I be removed as his engineer a few days ago… but the head engineer assured me that I’d still have a place on the pit wall to consult and strategize.
The thing is, I only wanted on that wall to help Asher, but he doesn’t want my help. He doesn’t want me.
“I will,” I agree. “About that…”
“Yes?” Ilya arches an eyebrow.
I must be a truly lovesick, idiotic fool, because my next words surprise even me. But I guess that’s the thing about love; it’s not beholden to reason or rationality. That’s why I’ve made pointed effort to avoid it… until now.
“You need to give Asher his upgrade package before Montreal.”
Ilya’s expression hardens. He gives me a look that warns me to tread very, very carefully. “Do I?” His tone is hard, but there’s lingering amusement at the edges, as if I’m a toddler who’s just demanded the keys to a kingdom. Insolent but cute.
Might as well go for the kill while I’m at it. Asher doesn’t deserve my help, but he needs it anyways. And I love him too fucking much not to give it, even when he’s cleaved my soul in two.
“Yes. He was top ten. In fact, he was P9. He’s earned it.”
“He didn’t finish the race—”
“Because of a crash caused by a vindictive driver who’s now been suspended for the entire season.
” That’s one of the harshest punishments that can be given in this sport.
I lean forward, feeling invigorated. “Asher worked his ass off to stick to the terms of your deal, and by all accounts, he did. You need to give him the upgrade package so he can get Gaston a podium. It’s been six years since your last one. ”
Soren’s jaw clenches, and he casts me an irritated look. His tenure began six years ago; the fact that the team hasn’t gotten a podium since is a rather poor reflection on him. I imagine the reminder hurts.
“Why are you the one asking me for this?” Ilya challenges. “Asher is a big boy. He can speak for himself.”
“We’re all painfully well aware that communication has never been his strong suit. That’s why you made me his unofficial liaison.”
“A role you held for less than a month before he fired you.”
That one hurts badly enough that I almost lose my resolve… but then I see the challenge and curiosity in Ilya’s eyes. He’s pushing me to see if I’ll bend.
The answer is I will not. Not when I’m fighting for the right thing.
“That’s irrelevant. Why don’t we go into the reasoning for your conditions, shall we?
You wanted Asher to make nice with the team and prove that he will continue to put in the effort.
Every condition was built from those two fundamental requirements for you to feel comfortable investing in him.
” I lean forward. “He’s done both. It’s your turn to hold up the end of your bargain. ”
“But he did not hold up his end of the bargain. He didn’t—finish—the race.” Ilya’s tone is harsh, but there’s an edge of something that sounds almost… frustrated. As though he actually agrees with me and wants to give Asher the upgrade package, but he can’t go against his own word.
Which means I need to use the only leverage I have. It’s a reckless, impulsive move… but it’ll be a deal too good to resist.
“I’ll give you unfettered and exclusive access to utilize my algorithm for the duration of my internship contract, if you give him the exact upgrades I drew up for you.
” My contract lasts through the end of the season.
I intended to personally use my algorithm for Gaston’s benefit, but retain all rights.
Giving away free use prevents me from shopping it around to the highest bidder…
but that’s temporary. There are still plenty of updates and improvements I want to make before letting others use it.
I tell myself that this is a worthy sacrifice, even though I’m practically handing away my brainchild without asking for any monetary compensation in return. I could sell or license it for enough money to live on comfortably for the rest of my life.
I can still do that after the end of this season. Probably. Hopefully.
Ilya looks at Soren. Soren stares at me with a narrowed, speculating gaze. “Why?” he asks.
I swallow hard. Because I’m a sucker and will still do the right thing even when heartbroken. Because I want Asher to succeed so desperately I’m willing to risk my own dignity, even after he hit me where it hurt most. Because I love him.
“You have my offer. Take it or leave it. Contracts will take time to write up—I’ll make sure my lawyer has them prepared by the Montreal race.
” Which only gives Delilah just under two weeks to get this drawn up.
It’s a big ask of her, but she already told me she’d help me figure out licensing of the program, or whatever it is that needs to be done to protect myself and my work.
“He’ll get his upgrade package when we get the algorithm,” Ilya says.
“No. He gets his upgrade package in time for use at Montreal. My lawyer will be attending the Montreal Grand Prix, so we can sign contracts then. Handshake deal today, confirming that you will get sole use of my algorithm for the rest of this season.”
“Done,” Soren says. He closes the distance between us and offers me his hand.
It feels a bit like making a deal with the devil when I shake it. Then I shake Declan’s. Finally, Ilya.
“Is he really worth it?” Ilya asks me quietly, expression curious.
“Yes,” I say.
Even if I might never be able to give another person my heart after experiencing this pain, he is worth it.
Our relationship was worth this agony, no matter how short-lived.
And professionally speaking, Asher’s talent is worth fighting for—even if he doesn’t know how to do it himself.
He has the potential to become one of the greats of F1.
I don’t expect I’ll stick around long enough to see it up close, but knowing I helped—no matter how minutely—will make it worth every pint of blood I’ve had to extract on his behalf.
Ilya nods, offering me a half-smile. “Well, then. He is the biggest fool I’ve ever met.”
I get the subtext. He knows Asher and I were together—it seems everyone on the team does. He knows we broke up, and he’s offering me a minute gesture and a few words of support.
That doesn’t help make me feel any better… but our meeting today does make me feel like I’ve started to earn my spot at the table.