𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢┃ Charles Leclerc┃

Chapter Eight - The Simulator

In a carefully crafted interview, Christian Horner maintained a facade of composure, even as the question loomed heavily over him: "Are you threatened by the presence of a female racer in Formula 1?"

With a feigned sincere smile, he leaned in and responded, "I want to clarify that I'm not threatened by a female racer in Formula 1. This sport thrives on competition, and I believe that competition is about equality and fairness. We have a long way to go before we can truly say that F1 is a level playing field for all genders, and we're actively working to address that. So, it's not a matter of threat, but an opportunity for evolution and growth within the sport. We should welcome and support diversity to make Formula 1 even better." With carefully chosen words, he veiled his apprehensions, determined to navigate the changing tides of a sport on the brink of transformation. "But, to put it short, no I am not threatened by Anastasia."

"What about the fact that Anastasia beat Checo on her debut race in her rookie season?" The interviewer asked.

Christian let out an awkward snort as he smiled wryly. "Well, it was her day, I suppose. Checo gave it his all, but sometimes circumstances conspire against you." His words were laced with a hint of discontent, a masterful blend of graciousness and begrudging acceptance. As the interviewer went on, Horner's eyes flickered with a touch of rivalry, fueling his determination to reclaim victory in the next battle on the track.

"Oh, he's so full of bullshit it's unreal." I locked my phone and threw it on the empty seat beside me with a look of distain. "Is he for real? 'Circumstances conspire against you', what a load of crap." My voice turned into a mocking hiss. "Have you actually watched this interview, Lando?"

My teammate, who sat opposite me on the lavish private jet, looked up from his laptop with wide eyes. He'd been listening to me chuntering and ranting for the last thirty minutes, but this was the first time I had actually roped him into my tirade.

"I watched it earlier. But, you've just got to let it fly over your head, Ana. People say anything for the media, especially when Netflix are around filming. They'll twist anything." He said.

I exhaled. "I told you what he said at the party. He's got it out for me. Doesn't think I should be here." My neck twinged up one side. "He makes out like it was a big battle with Checo. I was fifth, he was eleventh."

I lulled my head back in my seat, observing the interior of the plane. It was a symphony of luxury and sophistication. Plush leather seats, meticulously crafted in deep, inviting tones, beckoned passengers to sink into their sumptuous embrace. The cabin exuded an ambiance of opulence, with gleaming wood paneling and accents that mirrored the finest European craftsmanship. Soft, ambient lighting bathed the space in a warm, inviting glow, casting an ethereal aura that felt like stepping into a different world.

Every detail had been carefully considered, from the hand-stitched upholstery to the gleaming chrome fixtures. The cabin was impeccably spacious, offering ample room to stretch out and move about. A well-appointed bar area stood ready to cater to passengers' desires, featuring crystal glassware and top-shelf spirits. The high-tech entertainment system, with its oversized screens and state-of-the-art sound, promised an immersive and enjoyable journey.

Yet, I couldn't focus on any of it. Why? Because I was too riled up about Christian bloody Horner.

"Ignore him. We don't let that noise distract us. We've got a job to do, and that's to race our hearts out and bring this championship home. I've been around this paddock for a while now, and I can tell you, these kinds of mind tricks are just part of the game."

I smiled at my teammate. Lando Norris embodied a remarkable blend of youth and wisdom that set him apart in the world of Formula 1. Despite his relatively tender age, he possessed a maturity and focus that one might expect from a seasoned veteran. With his head on straight, he navigated the high-pressure world of motorsport with a calm and composed demeanor that belies his years.