Hate To Love You || Charles Leclerc x OFC

Chapter 4 - Saved by the Wolff

Preseason Barcelona – Lily POV

As I walked through the paddock, I could see the various mechanics and staff staring at me, their faces turning to each other, likely whispering about the torrid rumor that was circulating around the paddock. Hell, it wasn't even a rumor – it was the truth, and everyone knew it.

My boyfriend Louis had cheated on me, and now the entire world knew about it.

Even though Louis and I had kept our relationship very private, it was the paddocks worst kept secret that I was dating the Alpine driver. When I walked into the paddock, I walked in with my head held high, ignoring all of their looks and whispers. I wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in the way of my driving today. It was the last day of pre-season testing, and I had one job to do – prove that the Mercedes-AMG car was the bestfucking car on the track.

"Morning, Lil!" At the sound of one of the poshest English accents in the paddock, I turned my head round to face the voice. When I saw the culprit of the overly cheerful greeting, I smiled. Naturally it belonged to none other than George Russell, my racing teammate. He had a bright smile on his face – a little too bight – which told me he knew about the social media posts, but was going to pretend that everything was A-okay – to a fault. George Russell really did define everything I thought about the British. The car could be on fire, and he would undoubtedly "keep calm and carry on" like everything was fine.

"Morning, Russell. Ready to put it one last day's work?"

"Always ready, Lil." He said the words and then paused, as if he wanted to say something else. I stared at him for a few more moments, before turning around, refocusing back on my clipboard filled with car statistics from the last session.

"Hey Lil?" Ahh, there it was – the words George actually wanted to say.

"Yes?"

"If you need to talk, I'm here, okay?" I nodded in response, giving him a small smile. Every driver had an intensely strong need to beat their teammate, but no one could doubt George's good intentions. George was a good, kind driver and an ally to the Mercedes-AMG F1 team – and myself. I knew I could always go to him.

"And if you need someone to talk to about me beating your time today, I'm also here to talk," I said with a wink. George let out a small huff under his breath but winked back at me, turning around to rejoin his conversation with his racing coach.

After an hour of preparation with my racing team, I was beginning to feel better. No one mentioned he-who-should-not-be-named to me and I let my brain sink back into racing mode – until I heard a familiar voice in the paddock, a shrill tone that could sink a thousand ships.

My mother had arrived.

I had invited my family to the first pre-season testing in Bahrain, but they had made it clear they would rather join 'once I had the car under my feet' – also known as 'once we know you won't be an embarrassment'. My mother was very against my move to Mercedes-AMG F1 Team. She was surprisingly more in the camp that the other cars were built for men. I was fairly convinced that a part of her wanted me to fail, just so she could get in a final 'told you so.'

Most parents thought it was their dream come true just to see their child in Formula 1. My mother? I felt as though I could win the championship, and she would still gripe that it wasn't by enough points.

As I walked towards Toto's office, I heard my mother's voice getting louder and louder. No surprise she had gone straight into the Team Principals office as if she owned the place. Based on her mannerisms and how she treated the Mercedes-AMG executives, you would think I was a pay driver - not a driver from Liverpool who happened to have an Uncle rich enough to get me connections with the people who actually had enough money to sponsor an F3 and F2 seat. I didn't buy my F1 seat like certain drivers; I was paid by the team and had to earn every damn penny thrown at me. If I didn't perform, I wouldn't be staying. I didn't need my mother giving them extra reasons to throw me out. I was pretty sure being a woman was already strike against me – being a woman with an overbearing mother? Likely enough to have the white male executives at Mercedes calling for my head.