Isabella's POV
On the day of the sprint qualifying race, tensions were high in the Ferrari team's paddock. The air crackled with anticipation and nervous energy as the cars lined up on the grid. Kevin, our seasoned driver, was ready for a strong performance. But fate had other plans.
As the sprint lap began, Kevin's car suddenly jerked, its tires losing grip with terrifying abruptness. The vehicle veered off the track, kicking up gravel and dust in its wake. It was a shocking moment for everyone, especially for me and Mark.
My heart raced as I watched, and Mark gripped my hands tightly beside me.
“There’s a traitor among us,” I whispered to Mark, trying to stay composed but failing. Fear, frustration, and anger churned inside me.
“We’ve put in so much work, only to have someone sabotage it.”
Immediately after the race, the Ferrari team, especially Mark and I, were bombarded with media inquiries and interviews.
Kevin confirmed in the subsequent interview after the race that it was a problem with the vehicle which made things worse for our team.
Thankfully, Levi’s bodyguards escorted us safely away from the paparazzi.
"Isabella, we need a statement for the press conference tomorrow," Mark said, his voice strained with fatigue and stress as we entered the hotel and gathered in the conference room.
Everyone clustered together, voices overlapping with fear, confusion, and anxiety.
I nodded, my brow furrowed in concentration. "I'll draft something right away."
Mark rubbed his tired eyes, glancing at the scattered papers and half-empty coffee cups on the table. "I can't believe this happened. We were so close to another smooth race weekend.” He turned to the team. “Everyone, gather around. We need to craft a strong statement for the press. We all have valuable input. Let's show our Boss that he made the right investment in us. Others were sacked. Some left on their own. If you are here it's because you are capable. Prove it!”
Mark sat next to me as I pulled my laptop from my bag. “Let’s get started. Share your ideas, and Isabella, our boss trusts you to type and refine them.”
I sighed, my fingers flying across the keyboard as each team member contributed their thoughts. I made notes and began to organize them.
“It’s racing, Mark. Anything can happen. We just need to handle it with confidence and clarity,” Ms. Sebastian remarked, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the chaos around us.
Her composure made me suspicious for a moment, but I quickly dismissed the thought. What reason would she have to betray us? No, it couldn't be her.
We spent hours fielding questions, updating the press, and trying to contain the fallout from Kevin's incident.
By evening, I crafted a concise yet reassuring statement, emphasizing the team's commitment to safety and our thorough investigation into the issue. I sent a copy to Levi for review before it went out to the press.
It was well past midnight when we finally wrapped up the urgent media responses.
"At least we're done with the urgent stuff for tonight," Mark said wearily, stretching his stiff shoulders.
I nodded, my mind still racing with thoughts of what lay ahead for us. "The boss will distribute this to our press contacts. Hopefully, it'll buy us some time until we have more answers."
Mark stood up and gripped my shoulders. “You did a great job today,” he assured me.
“You too,” I replied with a faint, exhausted smile.
Mark headed to his hotel room while I remained behind, the glow of my laptop casting shadows across my face as I reflected on the day's events.
I worried about Levi, though I tried not to. I didn't want him to face any more troubles. My heart ached for him.
Somewhere in my heart, I resolved to support him every step of the way. I need to be by his side. I can't help but feel this way. Though Mr L owned my body, Levi had his hands wrapped around my mind and thoughts, and my heart.
"Bring it on, traitor,” I whispered to myself, finally closing my laptop. It was 3:00 AM. Tomorrow was another day.
***
Despite our carefully crafted PR release the following day, the onslaught of attacks on the Ferrari team continued unabated across the internet.
Kevin's repeated car troubles had angered many of his fans, who took to social media to vent their frustration.
It was overwhelming. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram—even TikTok—were flooded with criticism.
I sat at my desk, fingers trembling as I scrolled through the comments on our Instagram page. Each negative remark felt like a noose tightening around my neck, choking me with anxiety. The harsh words seemed to constrict my throat, leaving me speechless.
My efforts seemed futile. I could only hope that this storm would blow over, as it had in the past when Kevin had that accident in Switzerland.
Glancing over at Mark, who was buried in technical reports, I took a deep breath and texted him:
Me: "Mark, there's still a flood of criticism online. What should we do?"
Mark looked up, concern etched on his face as he read my message. He sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes before responding:
Mark: “Levi said not to worry about it. Don't read the comments. It's unbearable."
I nodded slowly, torn between defending the team and following Levi's advice to avoid social media. Ignoring the criticism didn't feel like a solution, but engaging with it could make matters worse.
Criticism was nothing new for Ferrari. Aside from driver performance issues, our engines and tires were perennial pain points. But this time felt different, worse. The cars were checked, and everything was fine. It has to have been a traitor but who?
"It's just frustrating," I muttered to myself, closing Instagram. "People don't understand the hard work behind all this. They just know how to criticize."
I felt a strong need to protect and assist Levi, as a queen protects her king.