FP2/P7/Lewis Hamilton
“Are you crazy?” Jester hissed, quickening his pace to catch up with Simone as she stormed into the Mercedes garage. She didn’t answer Jester right away, her gaze fixed ahead as she navigated through the sea of busy technicians.
This was her moment—a rare chance to be free, to move unnoticed through the garage while Lewis was away. He was busy with a meeting in the motorhome, deep in team discussions about the upcoming P3 and Qualifying. Simone had made sure he was occupied before slipping away, her decision to come here on her own. If Lewis found out she was here, playing detective while he was busy, he wouldn’t be pleased.
“Yes, I am” she finally answered without looking at him, her voice sharp and laced with determination. Her eyes stayed locked on the team members ahead, who were now casting her awkward glances.
She just stood there, still and unmoving, watching them closely—every pit crew member, every engineer, every mechanic. Nothing escaped her gaze.
From the way they adjusted tools to the quiet conversations exchanged behind glowing data screens, Simone tracked it all, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if holding herself together with sheer will.
The garage, usually a finely tuned machine of noise and purpose, shifted under her presence. It didn’t stop—it couldn’t—but the energy in the air changed. Subtle. Unsettling. Like prey sensing a predator. A few mechanics glanced at each other, whispering behind gloved hands. One of the engineers offered her a tight, polite smile before quickly turning back to his monitor, pretending not to feel the weight of her stare.
“Just like that, be aware of my presence” she whispered to herself.
Jester stayed close, lowering his voice as he leaned in. “Simone, you can’t just barge in here and stare everyone down like this. They’re going to think you’ve completely lost it.”
She turned to him slowly, her expression calm but unshakable. “Good. Let them wonder. If there’s even a sliver of truth in that email—if Lewis is in danger—then I’ll watch every one of them until I find it.”
Jester opened his mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes made him pause. She wasn’t joking. She wasn’t emotional. She was focused. Deadly focused. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“So are they” she replied.
She walked deeper into the garage, mechanics subtly moved out of her way, pretending to stay focused on their tasks, though the tension was unmistakable. She stopped near Lewis’s car, eyes scanning the chassis, brake ducts, even the tires.
“I need to talk to Toto Wolff”
Jester nearly choked on air. “What!?”
“I said” Simone repeated, louder and clearer this time, “I need to talk to Toto Wolff”
Jester groaned, dragging a hand through his hair in exasperation. His eyes darted nervously around the garage, watching the curious glances from the crew who were doing their best to look busy while clearly eavesdropping.
“Simone, please—Lewis is going to kill both of us if he finds out you’re here playing detective. He specifically asked me to keep an eye on you, not help you interrogate team principals!”
Simone rolled her eyes but didn’t move an inch. “Let him. If I have to be the villain in this story to protect him, so be it.”
“They’ve made mistakes before, Jester” she muttered. “I’m not saying everyone’s guilty, but if even one person is feeding false data or tweaking settings behind his back... I’ll find out.”
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Death of a Bachelor (COMPLETED)
RomansaMarriage was never important to Lewis Hamilton. Despite how many women who had come and gone in his life, he couldn't imagine himself settling down or having a family. To him, marriage was a nightmare, a poison, a commitment that trapped you no matt...
