One night. One secret. One world champion. Aurélie Larochelle never planned to see Max Verstappen again. But two years after Monaco, the daughter he never knew exists... and the truth is no longer something she can outrun. Now, with headlines closing in and emotions running high, their lives collide in the most unexpected way. Some secrets don't stay buried. Especially the ones with his eyes.

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible. She watched her family give up everything for Charles' career-Arthur's karting, their father's savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more. But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn't an afterthought-she's a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn't have to be invisible.

He is Max Verstappen, an F1 world champion, known for being ruthless and arrogant. Except if you really got to know him. She is Claire Leclerc, the only girl in the Leclerc siblings. One day she finds herself living next door to the Red Bull driver. She wasn't happy with the idea even though her brother was thrilled with the possibility of being closer to Max. What she didn't know was that he had a daughter and, apparently, being a world champion doesn't assure that you will be a great dad. In this story we will follow the story of Max trying to raise Olivia alone, or maybe not as alone as he thought.

Max Verstappen has made a name for himself, you either love him or hate him. If you know him, then you know what he is known for. His aggressiveness, arrogance, and competitiveness have been repeatedly seen by the general public. However, there is a side to him that very few could see-maybe only his family, maybe only her. Maeve Jansen is a very well-known actress, also commonly known as Max Verstappen's ex-girlfriend. They were each other's first, and that means a lot. But both have moved on, even if they still maintain contact. However, an unhealthy obsession can ruin everything they've built over the years, and all the peace they've found could be burned to the ground.

She never planned to set foot in the paddock again. Elisabeth "Lisi" Wolff had built her life in the world of tech, far from the engines and rivalries that had consumed her father's career. But one deal - one data project - pulled her back into the noise of Formula 1. That's where she met him. Max Verstappen. Fast. Unstoppable. Infuriating. They clashed the moment they spoke, their arguments sharp enough to draw sparks. He was reckless and overprotective; she was stubborn and determined to stand her ground. Everyone in the paddock knew they were trouble. Neither of them cared. Sometimes the hardest rival you face isn't on the track - it's the one who makes your pulse race off it.

Monaco never forgot its secrets-only hid them beneath the shimmer of champagne and the echo of engines.

Max Verstappen knows what it takes to win: control, precision, absolute trust in the machine-and no distractions. But when Red Bull brings in a new strategist, a brilliant outsider with sharp instincts and no patience for egos, his world shifts. Her calculations are flawless, her calls decisive. Yet behind every number lies a mind Max can't predict, a presence that unsettles his rhythm more than any rival on the grid. Strategy becomes intimacy, arguments become electricity, and every race a test not only of talent, but of trust. In Formula 1, victory is measured in tenths of a second. In love, the margin is even smaller.

She loves his sports car.

The glass hit the wall before the sentence even finished. Max didn't flinch. He just stood there, chest heaving, eyes burning with that fury Faye had learned to both fear and crave. "You think you can just lie to me, Faye?" His voice cracked - not from weakness, but from something sharper. Betrayal. Faye laughed. The kind of laugh that hurts more than any scream. "You didn't even let me talk, Max. You never do." He slammed his fist against the table. The sound echoed through the Monaco apartment, followed by silence - the dangerous kind. In that silence, she could hear her own heartbeat, frantic and broken. He took one step closer. Then another. "Tell me you didn't sleep with him." "Tell me you trust me." Neither spoke after that. The distance between them burned like fire - until one of them finally reached for the door. That was the night everything detonated. And neither of them had been the same since.

In the high-octane world of Formula 1, Oscar Piastri was a rising star-disciplined, sharp, and composed under pressure. While others cracked under the intense glare of fame and speed, Oscar thrived in it, always with a calm expression behind the visor and a love for racing deeper than any PR slogan could capture. And his heart? It already belonged to Lily, his longtime girlfriend-sweet, grounded, and the only person who truly understood the man beneath the helmet. Then there was Isabella Quinn-spoiled heiress to the multi-billion-dollar Quinn conglomerate, fashion icon, socialite, and someone who always got what she wanted. Or at least, she used to. From the moment Isabella saw Oscar on the grid, his talent blazing and his face splashed across F1 media, she was obsessed. It wasn't love-it was possession. A challenge. She pulled every string: front-row paddock passes, exclusive party invites, and even faked philanthropic collaborations just to get close to him. Her methods ranged from charmingly persistent to outright manipulative. But Oscar never budged. "You're wasting your time," he told her once, his tone cool, his eyes sharp. "I'm not interested, and I never will be."