When a woman with a dark, secretive past, falls in love, with not one, not two, but three Formula 1 drivers. But the only question is, who will she choose
OC (Jules Bianchi's "daughter," and Former racer) X Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, and Charle...
Warnings: This book is mature, and will contain mature content. This book is a work of fiction!! Ex: Language, Abuse (mental, emotional, physical), death, etc It might not be in every chapter, but it will be in others. I hope you enjoy the book, Cheers to chapter 1!! Xx Scar
Lana's point of view
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The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. I stood at the edge of Elliott's bed, a smile playing on my lips as I watched him sleep peacefully. His golden hair tousled, and his small frame curled up under the covers, he looked every bit the picture, adorable.
"Elliott, sweetheart, it's time to wake up," I whispered, leaning closer to brush my lips against his ear.
"Mmm... Maman?" His voice was soft and drowsy, his eyes fluttering open slowly. "What time is it?"
"It's time to rise and shine, my love," I replied, my tone gentle yet firm. "You've got a big day ahead of you."
Elliott rubbed his eyes sleepily, a yawn escaping his lips. "But maman, I'm so tired."
I chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.
"I know, baby. But you don't want to be late for school, do you? Especially not on the day you get to show off your new Lightning McQueen backpack."
At the mention of his new prized possession, Elliott's eyes lit up with excitement. "My backpack! Where is it, Mama? Can I see it?"
I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "If you make your bed first, I'll show you," I teased, knowing full well that the promise of his backpack would motivate him to get moving.
With a newfound burst of energy, Elliott threw back the covers and leaped out of bed, eager to start the day.
As he began tidying up his bed with meticulous precision, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in my heart. Despite his young age, Elliott was already displaying a sense of responsibility and determination that filled me with hope for his future. I silently hope his future will never be like my life.
Once his bed was made to perfection, Elliott bounded out of his room and into the living room, his eyes scanning eagerly for his new backpack. And there it was, laid out neatly next to his school uniform, waiting to be admired.
"Maman, look!" Elliott exclaimed, rushing over to the backpack with unbridled joy. "It's so cool! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
