A HIT NEW BOMBSHELL ENTERS THE F1 WORLD
Celia Winter, the first woman to ever win a Grand Prix and the woman that almost (by 9 points) won the world championships her second year
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The hum of engines filled the air, loud and all-consuming, as Celia Verstappen-Winter stood on the grid at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. It was 2035, and she was about to compete in the Indy 500. This was a moment she had been waiting for—a new challenge after years of dominating Formula 1. She had retired from F1 in 2033 with five world championships, but her competitive spirit had never left. Today, it was alive and kicking, fueled by the prospect of adding another jewel to her racing crown.
Standing with her was her team: Pato O'Ward and Logan Sargent. Pato, always full of energy and excitement, gave her a cheeky grin. "Ready to show these IndyCar guys what an F1 legend can do?"
Celia chuckled, shaking her head. "I've been ready for years."
Behind her, in the VIP section of the pit, her family and friends were watching. Max was there, of course, with Luna and Felix by his side. Luna, now 10, was bouncing on her feet, holding a small homemade sign that read, "Go, Mommy!" She was talking animatedly with Lando and Oscar, who had flown in just to support her. They were both still in Formula 1, and the friendly banter about which of them would win the next championship was never far behind. Oscar was leading the 2035 F1 championship, but Lando, the reigning champion, was determined to defend his title.
Max had one arm around Felix, who at just a year and a half, was already proving to be as headstrong as his older sister. His wide brown eyes, the only remaining sign of his Mexican heritage, watched everything with intense curiosity. Max and Celia had adopted him after she retired when she was just 4 months old and his parents had just died in a car crash. Max smiled, giving Celia a thumbs-up. "I love you," he mouthed to her with a grin.
And then there was Charles, standing off to the side. He looked healthier now, happier. He had lived with the Verstappen-Winters for several months last year, after his heart had been broken and his mental health had taken a serious hit. Ferrari had frustrated him to no end, and a brutal breakup had left him reeling. Celia had taken him in, insisting he needed a break from the world. Now, he was here, one of her biggest supporters, his face glowing with pride.
As the race drew nearer, Celia allowed herself a moment to breathe. This race, unlike so many in her career, wasn't about proving anything to anyone else. She had done that already. It was about proving something to herself. The Indy 500 had always felt like unfinished business—part of her dream of the Triple Crown, and today, she would make her mark.
Pato nudged her gently. "You've got this. Just another day in the office, right?" Of course he could say that, having already won Indy 500
She smiled, adjusting her helmet. "Something like that."
The roar of the crowd was deafening as the race hit its final laps. Celia was in the zone, her hands gripping the wheel, her eyes locked on the car in front of her. Logan had dropped out earlier with a mechanical failure, but Pato was still in the race, pushing hard a few places behind her. They had a good rhythm going, and with just a few laps to go, Celia was in the lead.
