The bet | Charles Leclerc

• Twenty-Nine •

Saturday

Charles is performing even worse today.
He didn't even make it through Q1, crashing into the gravel.
Thankfully he was okay, but his radio signaled something different about his mental health.

He was practically crying, apologizing to his team.

Even though I can hate him with every bone in my body from time to time, the audio still broke my heart.

He sounded seriously unwell.

"Earth to Isa! Hello!!" Richard snaps me out of my trance, waving his hand in front of my eyes, trying to get a reaction out of me.

I shake my head confusingly, squeezing my eyes shut briefly. I can't get him out of my head. Get the sound of his horrible voice away.

"Sorry I got lost in my thoughts.." I mumble in response, my gaze finding the track once again, where a bright McLaren speeds past.

Richard gives me one of those looks, staring me down carefully. "About that.." he starts off, his voice worryingly serious.

"I have something to show you." He says with determination, once again not a question, an order.

"But Q3 isn't finished yet..?" I remark, staring confusingly at Richard with furrowed brows. This man doesn't miss a second of a session for his life.

So why does he suddenly want to leave?

"Good. There'll be less people in the paddock." He mutters, standing up from his chair casually, a weirdly stern demeanor surrounding him.

I frown, suspicious.

"Isa, just trust me." Richard says, his eyes locking with mine, as he holds out his open hand for me.
My breath suddenly turns ragged.

What the fuck is going on..?

I accept Richards hand, standing up from my seat.
If Richard Jones tells you to trust him, you trust him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Richard suddenly comes to a halt. He's led me into some dark hallway, hidden inside this massive paddock.

My heart is beating uncontrollably.

"I'm going to say something now, and you need to promise me to not freak out." He says, taking my hands inside his calmly.

What the actual-

"I promise to not freak out..?" I promise hesitatingly, glaring up at Richard with utter confusion. Everything feels so goddamn strange..

Richard breathes in heavily. "Charles is in there." He admits, pointing his index finger towards the wide door to our left.

"No." I immediately argue, forcing my hands out of Richard's grip.

"Isa, breathe." Richard tries, his calm expression pissing me off. How could he do this to me? After everything I told him.

"Fuck no Richard. I thought you hated him." I fight, my feet glued to the floor, as my heart gallops away in my chest.