Chapter Twenty Nine – Seoul to London #2
Hartmann. Rotation patterns. Download logs. Statistical analysis of steward reports. She had everything. Laid out cleanly, clinically.
And then there was me.
Not accused. Not defended either. Just… questioned.
‘In a sport where milliseconds matter, transparency must matter more. Because if we cannot trust the system, then what do the titles mean?’
The words hit harder than if she’d flat-out accused me.
Mac hovered nearby, hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s going viral.”
I kept scrolling.
My name. Ross’s name. The phrase ‘preferential scrutineering’ repeated in bold. No quotes from me. No denial. No context.
Just silence.
“She published it,” I said flatly, handing Mac his phone.
He didn’t respond.
Because of course she did.
She’d tried to warn me. Tried to give me a way in. I’d slammed the door on her—literally.
And now the whole damn world was watching me through her lens.
I didn’t think. I moved.
Down the hall, past the engineering bays, past the analytics room, ignoring the curious glances and half-hearted greetings. I took the stairs two at a time, pulse thudding like gunfire in my ears.
Ross’s office door was closed.
Good. That meant he was in there. Probably with PR. Legal. Or worse—celebrating another crisis averted.
Then I heard him.
Muffled but sharp. Angry.
I stopped just short of the door.
“No, Klaus. Listen to me, and listen very fucking carefully.” His voice was low, dangerous, dripping with venom. “You think this is bad press? Try another investigation. Try interviews. Try a full fucking audit.”
Silence.
My blood ran cold.
Ross kept going. “I don’t care how it looked. I don’t care who thought it was tidy. Twenty sign-offs in twenty-four races? Do you know how that reads in black and white? The FIA can’t bury this.”
A pause. A hissed breath.
“Find out who leaked it. That’s your job now. Find the rat. Because I will not take the fall for this, do you understand me? You were the one putting your initials on those forms. You were the one giving us the edge. If someone has to burn for this, it’s not going to be me.”
My hands clenched at my sides.
The edge.
Giving us the edge.
You were the one…
He’d known. All this time. Known and let it happen. Encouraged it. Hid it.
I reached for the door handle just as Ross’s voice rose again.
“If she comes near you, shut it down. No contact. And if Volkov starts asking questions—well. Just remember who kept him in the spotlight.”
There was a final crack as the phone slammed down.
I didn’t knock.
I pushed the door open so hard it hit the wall with a satisfying thud.
Ross looked up from his desk. He was alone—no assistant, no handlers, just the man in the chair who thought he controlled the game.
“Aleks,” he said smoothly, like I was expected. “Busy morning, huh?”
“Don’t,” I growled. I stepped into the office and let the door fall shut behind me. “Don’t fucking smile at me like nothing’s happened.”
He leaned back, folded his hands. “You’ve read it, then.”
“Oh, I read it. And I listened, too. Nice call with Klaus. Really eye-opening.”
His expression twitched for half a second—just long enough to confirm everything.
“It’s true then,” I said. “You’ve been manipulating the software in my car. Over and over. And your friend Klaus has been signing off on it.”
“Aleks—”
“Don’t.” My voice snapped through the air. “How long?”
He hesitated.
“How long, Ross?”
He exhaled through his nose, measured and cold. “A while. Since before your second title.”
I stared at him.
Two years.
Two fucking years.
“So all of it?” My voice dropped. “All those races. All those trophies. All those headlines. Were they ever real?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “You drove the wheels off that car every god damn weekend. You’re the best on the grid, Aleks. But this sport isn’t just about driving. It’s politics. Optics. Margins. We gave you a safety net, not a win button.”
“You lied to me.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I protected you.”
I lunged forward, slamming both palms down on his desk. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking spin this like you did me a favour.”
He didn’t flinch. “You think Hawthorn or Nova wouldn’t kill to have a system like this in place? They’re all bending the rules. We just bent them better.”
“I didn’t sign up for that.”
“Didn’t you?” His voice hardened. “You think you got here on skill alone? You think the sponsors would’ve stuck around if you had a bad year? You think Obsidian would still be top dog if we let chance dictate everything?”
I took a step back.
Not out of fear.
Out of sheer, blistering rage.
The door opened softly, drawing my gaze. Mac stepped into the room, silent, formidable.
“Aleks, let’s all take a minute.”
I glared at him. Now was not the time for calm reflection. Now was the time to draw battle lines. Unless…
“You knew.” I shook my head, disbelief rushing through my veins. I ran my hands through my hair. Mac didn’t refute it.
“Go on, tell me. What was your role in it?”
“I swapped the mappin’,” he said, his voice low, gruff.
I nodded, pressing my lips together. Somehow, unsurprised.
“Got it.” I stepped closer to Mac. This one hurt worse. This was the man who’d been in my ear since I joined F1. The man who knew when I was lying, when I was tired, when I was scared.
I shook my head slowly. “All those nights. All those talks. You telling me to trust the process.”
“I was tryin’ to keep you focused,” he said, voice roughening. “This sport eats drivers alive when they start pullin’ at threads they can’t control.”
“So you decided for me.”
“I decided to keep you winnin’.”
I stepped back, like I’d been struck.
“You let me doubt myself,” I said quietly. “You watched me tear myself apart after losses. You heard me ask if I was still good enough.”
Mac’s eyes finally dropped. “Aleks…”
“And all that time,” I continued, my voice shaking now. “You knew there was a system propping me up.”
Ross cut in, impatient. “This isn’t some grand betrayal. It’s how F1 works.”
I rounded on him. “You used me.”
“I built you,” Ross shot back. “I made Aleksandr Volkov untouchable.”
Mac took a step forward. “Ross, enough.”
“No,” Ross said. “He needs to understand the reality. This sport doesn’t reward purity. It rewards results.”
I looked at both of them then.
My team principal.
My race engineer.
The two men I’d trusted more than anyone in this sport.
“I was the product,” I said slowly. “Wasn’t I?”
No one answered.
I nodded. “Good. That tells me everything.”
I turned for the door. Paused beside Mac and looked back at Ross over my shoulder, simmering rage thudding in my ears.
“If I go down for this, I swear to God, I’m taking you with me.” Then I turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind me.
For the first time since I was a teenager, I didn’t know who I could trust.
And there was only one person left I needed to face.