Chapter 15
Here for you
William
Two weeks later
"We're quite happy with our driver lineup at Vortex. These rumors about pursuing young Ethan Jordan seem to have originated from Colton Racing themselves—perhaps a desperate attempt to appear more relevant? We wish them well with their rebuilding efforts."
How can Dominic say that with a straight face?
This snake should really find some hobbies, maybe understand that the holiday season is to be spent around his family, not wrecking the houses of almost everyone in upper management and drivers at Colton Racing.
Talk about pitiful guys with big egos, and something they need to compensate for.
Fucking asshole.
I close the live press conference and put the smartphone inside my locker, closing the door.
The absolute gall of the man. Activating an exit clause worth fifteen million during the holidays, then pivoting to claim he was never interested?
That Colton Racing invented the whole crisis for attention?
It's a masterclass in manipulation. Thank god for Violet and Belforte for managing to stop that with legal action.
The man calculated it perfectly—Christmas Day, when the industry is quiet, when everyone was distracted.
A noise can become a storm in seconds. Maximum damage with minimum effort.
I've replayed that morning in my head a thousand times: Violet's face when she got the news, the way she tried to hide her anger and disappointment as she prepared to leave.
Professional to the core, even as our holiday crumbled around us.
I hope there’s a special place in hell for Dominic.
And I haven’t seen Violet since. Three weeks of occasional messages just to check in and nothing more.
I scan the gallery on top of this simulator room, searching for a glimpse of those beautiful bouncy curls, the sharp lines of a tailored suit, the subtle way she holds herself—strength and grace in perfect balance.
I've missed her. More than makes sense after just three weeks apart.
Here, now, in the place we both call home, I hope we can find our way back to each other. I need to know if she feels the same.
EJ is in the engineering booth, hunched over a tablet displaying telemetry data from my morning session.
His sandy hair is now slicked back, a couple of long strands falling into his face, while his sides are trimmed shorter in a neat undercut.
There are shadows under his eyes that weren't there before the end of last year.
He doesn't notice me at first, too absorbed in the data, the same intense focus that makes him such a natural in the car now directed at green and red lines, tracking my brake points and throttle application through every turn.
"Planning to steal all my secrets already?" I ask, dropping into the chair opposite him.
He startles, looking up with wide eyes that quickly relax into recognition. "Will! I was just—" He pauses, gesturing at the tablet. "Your exit from Turn 3 in Barcelona is insane. I've been trying to figure out how you're carrying that much speed without losing the rear."
"Magic and talent," I say, then grin to show I'm joking. "That, and about fifty crashes in the sim before I figured it out. Thank god for the restart button, or this team would be bankrupt by now." I chuckle as I study his face, looking past the enthusiastic facade. "How are you holding up?"
EJ's smile falters for just a second before he rebuilds it. Not as bulletproof as Violet's professional mask, but he's learning.
"I'm good. Better. It was just... intense, you know? My phone blowing up on Christmas morning, my manager saying all this stuff about Vortex wanting me, then Violet and Silas showing up at my parents' house in Chicago like something out of a movie."
"Dominic's a pro at hitting below the belt," I say, keeping my voice casual even as anger simmers beneath the surface.
"Yeah, Violet explained that. Said it wasn't about me at all, really. Just..." He trails off, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"Just Dominic being a vindictive prick who can't stand seeing Colton Racing rising from the ashes," I finish for him.
"Trust me, I've been on the receiving end of his games.
Last season, he goaded me until I punched him, remember?
Resulted in that lovely penalty that removed all the points I got in Melbourne. It was all over the news."
EJ's eyes widen slightly. "But that was different. That was personal between you two. This was—"
"Also personal," I interrupt gently. "Just not about you personally. Dominic has a vendetta against Violet—against Colton Racing—that goes back decades. You were just convenient ammunition. Easy to harness, even easier to deploy."
He considers this, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "That's what Silas said, too. In different words. More... colorful ones."
I bet. Belforte strikes me as a man who doesn't mince words; he probably added some curse words in Italian for good measure.
"Look, Ethan, Formula 1 isn't just about who's fastest on track.
There's this whole other race happening in the paddock, in the media, in boardrooms. Politics and mind games and people trying to get under your skin.
" I lean forward, making sure he's really hearing me.
"None of that matters. What matters is what you do in the car. The rest is noise."
"It's a lot of noise," he says quietly.
"Yeah, it is." My voice softens. "And it's not fair that you got dragged into it before you've even started your first full season. But that's how it goes sometimes. The fact that Dominic targeted you? That means he sees you as valuable. As a threat. Take it as a compliment."
A small smile tugs at his lips. "I didn't think of it that way."
"I want you to know something else. If you ever need help with something you don't want to take to Violet or Belforte—something you think is too small or too stupid or too personal—you can come to me. Anytime. I'm not just your teammate—I'm a friend you can count on."
"Thanks, Will." His tone carries an intense weight of gratitude and slight awkwardness that makes me uncomfortable. "That means a lot."
"Don't get all soft on me now," I say, deflecting the emotion with humor. "I just don't want you distracted when we're fighting for points. Need you at your best, star rookie."
He laughs, the sound lighter than before. "I've been studying your data even from Chicago. Johnson sent me all the sim files. I think I found three places where I can be faster than you."
"In your dreams, maybe." I stand, walking around the table to his side. Before I can overthink it, I throw an arm around his shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. "Seriously though. You're not alone in this circus. We've got your back."
EJ looks momentarily startled by the physical contact, then relaxes into it. "I know. Violet made that very clear. In Chicago, she was like... I don't know, like a force of nature. I thought she was scary when she's being professional, but angry Violet Colton? Terrifying."
I laugh, ruffling his hair as I release him. "You have no idea. Be glad she was angry on your behalf and not at you."
He attempts to smooth his hair, failing miserably. "Is she always like that? So... intense?"
"Only about things that matter to her." The words come out more revealing than I intended. "The team matters. You matter."
EJ nods, something knowing passing behind his eyes. Too perceptive for his age, this kid. I clear my throat, stepping back.
"Anyway, simulator at two? Johnson wants to compare our data on the new front wing design."
"I'll be there." His smile is more genuine now, the shadows in his eyes receding. "And Will? Thanks. For checking on me. For... everything."
"That's what teammates do," I tell him, meaning it. Not just teammates. Friends. Family, almost. The kind of relationship I wished I'd had when I was fighting through the junior categories, wishing my teammate would be there for me, when every setback felt like the end of the world.