The Last Grand Prix | Toto Wolff

Chapter six

I'd be a fearless leader

I'd be an alpha type

When everyone believes ya

What's that like?

The Man - Taylor Swift

241 days before.

Four months.

Hungarian GP.

After the race in Hungary, the hospitality room was filled with engineers and strategists, all gathered around laptops and charts spread out across the table. The usual post-race tension still hung in the air, but now there was a palpable sense of relief mixed with it. It was time to evaluate what had worked and what still needed adjustments, especially with the two-week break approaching.

Katrin, sitting at the end of the table, watched each face around her attentively, her hands resting calmly on her closed notebook. Despite her calm posture, there was a satisfied gleam in her eyes. She had nailed all the hypotheses proposed for the car setup, and the result on the track spoke for itself.

During the race, the modifications she had suggested had optimized the car's performance in low-speed corners, a decisive advantage on such a technical circuit as the Hungaroring. It was as if, for a moment, the score was 1-0 for Katrin, and she quietly savored the taste of a subtle and personal victory.

The team was discussing the final analyses, and James, sitting next to Katrin, was studying the reports closely. He let out a slight sigh and smiled, looking directly at her.

— Your predictions were accurate — he commented, maintaining a casual tone, but his expression conveyed a deeper message of recognition.

In a team where trust was the most valuable currency, being validated like this, even in a few words, was a welcome relief.

On the other side, Claire seemed less comfortable, shuffling the papers in front of her with an almost automatic motion. Her expression remained closed off, as if she was still analyzing every detail of the reports, looking for a flaw, an inconsistency.

But there was none. Katrin felt the subtle victory coursing through her veins, though she remained unruffled, offering only a slight nod in response to James.

Katrin sensed Toto's gaze on her before she noticed the slight movement of him leaning towards her. It was rare to see him break composure in public, especially in front of the team, but he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder — a brief yet firm gesture.

— Good job, Katrin — he murmured, his voice low, laden with a calm gravity. There was something in the way he said her name, an emphasis that made the simple gesture feel more significant, almost intimate.

Katrin felt the warmth he left on her skin long after Toto had removed his hand. She could have responded automatically, but the words escaped her.

She glanced up briefly, and their eyes met for a moment that seemed to stretch out. Toto gave a slight nod, a gesture that initially seemed formal, but that she felt resonated unexpectedly. He said nothing more, just returned to his usual posture.

— Thank you — she murmured, feeling that the words were insufficient to express what that silent support meant to her.

Claire shot a fleeting glance at Katrin and Toto, her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't need to say anything; the tension in the air spoke for itself. Without lifting her eyes from the papers in front of her, she commented in a tone devoid of enthusiasm: