I can't .

~24~

POV y/n:

After my talk with Dad, I feel... lighter. He actually apologized—something he rarely does—and for once, he saw what I'm capable of when I'm given the freedom to truly support my driver. He told me he's going to speak with Lewis about bringing me back to Mercedes in a few weeks—but not as Lewis's track engineer. That door's closed. Instead, I'll be supporting George now. Too many personal feelings from Lewis were starting to get in the way.

I'm curious to see where things go with George... because deep down, I know he was beginning to develop feelings for me, too.

When I walk into my hotel room, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Carlos.

I let the call ring out and reject it. Seconds later, a voicemail drops in. I toss the phone onto the bed and head straight for the shower. I need to keep my focus on tomorrow's race—not on someone who broke my heart. I'm here to help my former teammate, Bottas, get another podium finish. Not to prove anything to my father—he knows what I can do now—but to watch Bottas chase Carlos down on the track.

Because that would be justice.

I know Bottas is holding back. He could do more with the car, but he's been playing the team game for Zhou's benefit. I want him to go full throttle today. For both of us.

The next morning, I walk into the paddock beside my father. The stares come immediately—curious, lingering gazes. Charles. Carlos. Others too. I kiss Dad on the cheek before he disappears into Lewis's garage. I walk on, toward Alfa Romeo.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the Ferrari crew watching. I catch Charles's eye and give him a wave. I greet Max along the way and pause to chat for a moment. I feel the heat of Carlos's eyes burning into my back.

"Why is Carlos staring at us like that?" Max asks, amused.

I shrug. "No idea. Good luck out there today—I'm sure you'll win again. But watch out for Bottas... he's got fire in him today."

Max grins and I lean in to give him a deliberate hug, then move on.

Bottas is waiting for me, smiling.

"What did I hear?" he asks, pulling me into a hug.

"Yes," I say, smiling faintly. "My father asked me to come back."

"I told you this would work. I'm glad I could help with that at least. It's just a shame that grid romance didn't turn into anything."

I pull back. "I don't want to talk about it. I made it clear—I don't want him anymore. He should leave me alone."

"Can I ask what happened?" Bottas's voice is soft, like he's speaking to a daughter rather than a teammate. He's always felt like a second father—just with a more emotional side.

I take a breath and tell him everything.

He shakes his head slowly. "I've known Carlos for years... this doesn't sound like him at all."

"I saw them kissing, Valtteri," I say sharply. "And I don't care what the story behind it is. If he really didn't want her, he would've pushed her away. But he didn't. That says enough."

My jaw clenches at the memory, anger bubbling to the surface again. I pull out my phone and play the voicemail Carlos left me last night. Even though I blocked him on WhatsApp, he could still reach my number.

He asked me to meet him after the race in the greenroom. Said he needed to talk.

Part of me wants to go. Wants to look into those beautiful dark brown eyes, melt into his arms, feel his warmth wrap around me like nothing ever happened.