VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 78

[POV: Narrator]

The moment the car door opened, the sharp flash of cameras stabbed into Andi's eyes. She barely noticed the chill of the evening breeze; what filled her senses was the harsh, blinding light and the cacophony of shutters clicking, reporters' voices murmuring questions she wasn't prepared to answer, and the eyes— not just looking, but probing.

The grand hall of the venue was nothing short of breathtaking; Ornate chandeliers with liquid gold light that made the marble floors beneath them gleam, while velvet drapes hung over the windows, heavy and lush.

They were in Monaco, after all.

None of it, however, brought any comfort. The swirling mass of impeccably dressed guests threatened her. Despite Andi's forced attempts to lift her chin and move forward like it didn't bother her, the weight in her chest felt unrelenting. The flood of eyes made her skin crawl. It was as if the curious stares could see right through her façade, dissecting every tiny hesitation, every nervous twitch. They knew. Somehow, they knew. In their silent accusation, she was exposed.

She held Oscar's hand on the way in.

There were cameras, after all.

He noticed her nerves. He couldn't not, to be fair, since she gripped his hand so tightly that her nails bit into his skin. He figured she just needed something solid to bite down on; to de-stress, and relax.

Then Max and Daniel appeared, which had the opposite effect.

They didn't stop to chat; Daniel's voice was quick, almost breathless. "Andi, you have to see this. Remember that champagne tower from Pierre's thing last year?" He grinned. "Well, it's back—and they've got a violinist playing ABBA. Come on!"

Daniel was already half-pulling her toward the back of the hall, eager and insistent.

Oscar looked to Andi, then back to them, a hint of reluctance flickering in his eyes.

"Um," he said, "Lando's waving me over—I'll find you later."

Andi hesitated. Her fingers clenched Oscar's as Daniel steered her away. She tried to hold on, but the crowd pressed in, and she had to release him.

Max caught it with a knowing glance but didn't push it as Oscar disappeared off into the opposite direction.

Now at the bar with Max and Daniel, Andi saw a different kind of chaos. Instead of the polished quiet of the grand hall, the bar was loud and cramped, air thick with expensive perfume that had turned heavy.

Daniel ordered drinks with practiced ease, chatting easily with Max, who turned to Andi with a grin, trying to lighten the mood and include her too. Andi nodded absently. When asked about the party, she gave a clipped response, aware how brittle her voice sounded.

Ricciardo, not one to let the mood sag, chipped in. "Well, at least there's fireworks this time. Last year they got so many complaints that this was a bore-fest, that they decided to risk blowing up the whole harbour. I moved my boat this morning just in case," he laughed, and Max joined in, saying something about yachts.

The next two or three hours blurred into a restless haze for Andi Saunterre.

She had tried to find Oscar, scanning the crowd constantly, but he was nowhere to be seen. Every time she thought she spotted him, he disappeared— pulled off by a driver here, mistaken for someone else there.

She felt oddly untethered. She drifted from one corner of the venue to the next, often led somewhere else by a polite hand she barely resisted.

At one point, she found herself alone at the bar, the noise dipping just enough that she caught the sound of a familiar voice behind her.