Hello! My name is Emily, I'm 20-something (but who's counting), and I have been on Tumblr for way longer than I should admit. I am a writer, a passionate history lover, a dedicated full time [and only kind of delusional] George Russell enthusiast, and an avid defender of both Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.
I DO NOT DO PART TWOS UNLESS SPECIFIED IN MY A/N.
Please do not ask for part twos unless it is actually paired with a thoughtful, polite, and genuine comment on my original. Please appreciate the original fic properly before demanding more. I am not a machine.
MY BLOG IS A 'WAG FREE ZONE'. PLEASE RESPECT THIS.
I will not be posting, reblogging, or talking about any current or past partners of the drivers, including answering asks that mention their names.
The only exception are the Lilies. Don't ask questions.
Current WIPs:
The Braking Point [GR63, Single Parent Karting Fic]
Members Only [GR63, Adult Film Star AU (m/m & m/f)]
The Way It Goes 𩵠[GR63, Slice of Life Blurbs]
Š None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including reuploading, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Here for my Why Don't We Era? â Daniel Seavey Masterlist
The symbolism of trying to fit in your favourite team so hard that even your body gets damaged by the car that was made for another person who was actually wanted there. You spend years in the shadow of that person, and when it's finally your turn to prove yourself, comes another person, leaving you in a broken car with no support from your team, easily getting everything you had to get scarred for. Oh, and that first person is still there and is still more important than you, even as a rival
Hi, emily! How are you? Hope youâre doing great! Just wanted to say that i loooooove âthe breaking pointâ so so so much. I swear to you that I wait anxiously (in a good way) for the new chapters. Your writing is incredible and the plot is marvelous.
Do i find Ivy a bit spoiled even though sheâs just a kid? (Yes, i got offended on behalf of henry lol) but the last chapter was a good way to see a bit of her pov (still find her spoiled tho, but poor girl đ )
Poor henry also. Heâs going to be so heartbrokenâŚ
My heart feels so much for george and Josefine. And jo never got the chance to explain or contextualize the whole thing.
Excited for whatâs to come.
Iâm a new anon so I donât have an emoji (thinking about creating a blog for reposting and interacting that is not my main one cus your story deserves to be seen and read by everyone), so can i be đ or 𪟠for a while? I donât know which one to choose yet
Sorry for the huge message. I also apologize for my english since its not my first language
Hi lovely anon! What a sweet message to wake up to, thank you so much 𼚠+ you never have to apologize for a long message or your english! God knows your english is HEAPS better than any other language I may attempt!
It makes me so happy youâre loving the story!! These characters and this story are very special to me. Especially in the way where you can understand each characterâs perspective to an extent. Iâm proud of myself in how ârealâ and imperfect they feel! Iâm glad the readers are seeing that too đĽ°
Ivyâs definitely a lil spoiled! Although her constant need to be within armâs reach of George or cutting into his conversations with Josefine/Henrik stems from me as a little girl of 9-10 when my divorced parents each started dating new people đ The childâs inability to grapple with the fact that someone new is now wanting the attention of their parent⌠Ivy definitely takes it a step further with her angst towards Henrik however đŹ
âAnd jo never got the chance to explain or contextualize the whole thingâ !!!! Yeah 𼺠exactly this. We can understand that George needed to be wholeheartedly focused on Ivy in that moment but also the ache of how awful Josefine may feel, poor girl. She really didnât mean to cause any harm and now sheâs shouldering all this guilt!
Now Iâm rambling haha. Thank you for your message! And yes you can absolutely be an emoji anon! Iâd love that! Personally I love the little 𪟠hehe but let me know which one you pick and I will add you to my list đĽ°đĽ°
The Braking Point (gr63) | FIFTEEN (George's Version)
Series Masterlist
âł A/NÂ A lot happened after chapter fourteen that it wouldn't be fair to only show you Josefine and Henrik's aftermath. Arguably, George and Ivy's is just as important, if not more. This is not a necessary read for the plot as this is just an added blurb, but definitely is an emotional addition.
âł Series Summary:Â As a single mother, Josefine is used to doing everything on her own. Leaving everything behind to chase her son's karting dreams in England, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to pushing him through the ranks, no matter the cost...even if it takes everything from her in the process. She knows that nothing is guaranteed and trust isn't easily won, and yet she comes to learn that the biggest lessons may not be found on the track but, rather, in the form of a retired Formula 1 driver and his daughter.
âł Pairings:Â SingleDad!KartingCoach!George Russell x Single Mom!OC
âł Chapter Word Count:Â 7709
âItâs not like heâs even your real dad!â
The second those words left Henrikâs mouth, George felt the air being yanked from his lungs. Had he heard correctly? Had Henrik just said the words that he had been keeping under lock and key for a decade? If he hadnât been so shocked, maybe he would have managed to deflect or to wrongfully deny it or in any way diffuse the situation. Instead, he was stricken into silence.
Ivy turned upon him with a face of pure confusion. Somehow, as much as he wanted to say something, anything, the words had abandoned him. His silence spoke wonders and he watched as his daughterâs face scrunched into a flicker of disbelief, of hurt and betrayal, and she let out the tiniest huff as if choking back tears before she ran off towards the parking lot.Â
George could feel the way everything was crumbling right before his eyes, shattering into pieces and bursting into flame and falling through his fingers faster than he could stop it. His breath shuddered as he watched his daughter run off down the paddock alley as if his feet had been nailed in place.Â
And then realization settled over him, a sudden understanding of where Henrik had pulled his words from. Georgeâs head turned slowly towards Josefine. She was already looking at him.Â
Eyes wide and lips slightly parted, eyebrows creased just the slightest amount in the middle as if in silent plea; she looked guilty in every sense of the word. A brief glance was enough. George had seen enough. She had taken his biggest secret, the thing he had entrusted with her wholeheartedly, and told it to her sonâŚa boy who was barely old enough to understand the meaning of a secret yet alone the weight of the one he held.Â
George couldnât stomach another second there. Without a word, he turned away and headed after Ivy.Â
His pace was brisk as he headed through the narrow alleys between the tents that made up the karting pits, glancing every which way to try and spot her. It certainly helped that the race was still on going, leaving most of the area vacant with everyone busy watching the last few laps. Reaching the parking lot, George skimmed between the tightly parked cars and headed towards his own, assuming she would have gone right there. When he found his G63 perfectly alone, he halted.
âIvy?!â he called out worriedly with a 360 glance around the parking lot. Even he could hear the slight tremble in his voice. He wanted to find her, to make sure she was safe, but what state was he going to find her in when he finally did? This was a conversation he wasnât ready to haveâŚone that he anticipated never having.Â
Continuing on to the end of the grassy parking lot, he finally found her at the very edge of the property where the shrubbery divided the circuit from the farmland beyond. She was still in her race suit, half unzipped, sitting right at the base of the shrubbery as if willing it to swallow her into its branches. Her knees were pulled to her chest and her arms were wrapped around her legs, hiding her face in her arms, the wind taking the frazzled post-race flyaways from her light brown hair around her head like a clumsy halo.Â
Upon spotting her, George slowed to a stop and, for a second, just stared at her. His sweet, brave girl, curled in on herself like she felt so incredibly small.
âPoppetâŚâ he said gently.
At the sound of his voice, Ivy lifted her head from her arms. Her eyes were red-rimmed and shimmering with tears that streaked down her flushed cheeks and when she looked at him, she didnât soften. For the first time, genuinely, she looked at him and her expression hardened. In an instant, she sprung to her feet.Â
âGo away!â she shouted and went to dart past him.Â
âIvy,â George reached for her, quickly managing to grab her arm before she could escape, âIvy, please.â
âNo! I donât want to talk to you!â she sobbed as she thrashed under his grip, âLet me go!âÂ
His grip faltered for just a second, not wanting to restrain her but also not wanting to let her run from him again. When he let go of her arm, she dramatically yanked it back with a stubborn grunt and turned away from him. For a moment, he was sure she was going to run.
âAlright, okay,â he said, voice unsteady and half-panicked, âAlrightâŚwe donât have to talk. You donât have to talk. JustâŚstay with me.â
She stilled, but only barelyâher chest heaving, eyes wild and searching for an escape that wasnât there anymore. George dropped to his knees in front of her to be at her level but he didnât risk touching her, not even when another heavy tear dripped down her cheek and he so desperately wanted to wipe it away and pull her into his arms. His girl.
Ivy wasnât looking at him. Her arms were folded tight across her chest and her gaze was down-turned, staring at the grass and how it seeped into the knees of Georgeâs light wash jeans. He was patient, kneeling there, not caring how long it took. If his presence was grounding for her, reassuring, he would stay there for days.Â
Finally, worn thin, Ivy spoke, a broken sound catching in her throat, âHe saidâhe said youâre not myââ
George didnât hesitate, âI am. I am your dad.â
âNo, are you actually for real?â she pressed.Â
And her eyes met his and George could see the desperation in her gaze, the hurt and confusion and need for the truth.Â
âI, uhâŚâ George swallowed and looked out across the packed parking lot they were hidden behind, like admitting this to her while looking into her eyes was too much to bear. But he owed it to herâŚand, God, heâd do anything for her, no matter how much it hurt. So he looked at her again and told her softly, âI am not your biological dadâŚno.â
The sound she made was somewhere between a gasp and a sob and she shouted at him almost loud enough to echo across the countryside, âWhy didnât you tell me youâre not my real dad?!â
The anger in her words bit him deep. A myriad of memories flashed through his mind of the last ten years, all the ways that she was his and he was hers, right from that very first day. She was upset and trying to come to terms with this news, he understood that, but it was so hard to watch her process this. To watch her look at him like he was a horrible person.Â
With all the stability George could muster in that moment, he kept her stone gaze and replied seriously, âI am your real dad, Ivy. From that first day I held you, I was yours.â
âYou just pretended this whole time!â she protested loudly.
âI know, Poppet! I know, and Iâm sorry. I didnât think there was any reason to tell you. To me, you have always been mine. One hundred percent my girl.â
âNo, Iâm not!â
âYouâre allowed to be angry with me,â George said, âI thought I was doing the right thing. Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry I didnât tell you from the very beginning.â
âWhy didnât you?â Ivy asked, her anger melting around the edges with a small sorrowful hiccup.
âBecause I didnât want you to feel like you didnât belongâŚwith me or our family. Because I was selfish and I thought that it was the right thing to do, to spare you the hurt of knowing. Because my heart just always felt like you were a part of me from the very beginning anyways. You are my daughter, Ivy Jane. In every possible way that matters.â
Ivy shook her head, tears spilling over again as she desperately tried to blink them away.
âThen why him?â
George frowned in slight confusion, âWhat? Why who?â
âHenrik,â she said, her voice cracking, and she wiped at her face angrily, âYouâre always with him. Youâre always helping him and looking at him and I justââ
She dragged in a breath, like she hated what she was about to say.
âI didnât like it. I didnât want to share you.â
Realization settled over George like a weighted blanket. The past months and especially the past few short weeks where she never seemed to leave his side, how she interjected at any given moment with a thought of her own, how she took everything to heart more than usual. How everything increased tenfold since she found him and Josefine in the kitchen during her birthday party, like she was on her best behaviour as if needing to prove something to him. George wanted to curse. Josefine was right. Ivy wasnât okay. How could he have been so dense about his own daughter? Not being able to see what was right in front of him.Â
âIvy,â George said, a little firmer now, with a small shake of his head, almost in disbelief, âYou think I was ever choosing between you and him?â
âI thought you were replacing me,â she blurted out behind a trembling bottom lip.
âReplacing you?â he repeated, quieter now. His eyes were all over her face as if he were trying to read every minute flicker of her expression, desperate to know what had been plaguing her for months on end. Everything that he had been too ignorant to see.Â
âYeah. You donât need me if you have him,â she insisted. Her words were laced with a twinge of self-deprication that was unlike anything he had heard from his self-assured daughter, âYou can justâŚgive me back.â
The words hit him harder than anything else sheâd said. It was as if she had taken a knife and driven it into his chest right there on the outskirts of the grassy parking lot. His breath halted in his lungs as the ache stretched itself across his chest and squeezed his heart.
âIvy Jane Russell,â George said softly but oh-so-seriously, finally reaching forward to gently grasp her arms to insist upon the earnest truth of his next words, âI chose you once. And I choose you every single day after that. There is no one on this Earth that could ever come close to you.â
Her eyes brimmed with fresh tears and her words came out in a rush before her emotions took her over, âI only want you to be my daddy.â
And then she was throwing herself at him and George caught her so easily, pure unbridled instinct. He wrapped her up in his arms and cradled the back of her head with a comforting hand so she could feel the squeeze of his sincerity all around her, the solidarity of his presence.Â
He scrunched his eyes closed as he held her, swearing through the tremble of his own words, âI am! Oh, I am, my love. I always will be and nothing will ever change that. You hear me? Nothing and no one will ever take me from you.â
âPromise?â she whimpered into his shoulder.Â
âI promise,â George croaked out. He couldnât hold back his own tears that dripped down his cheeks and all he could do was hold her a fraction tighter.Â
Even when he slipped off his knees to sit entirely on the grass, Ivy just moved with him, letting him cradle her on his lap like she was a toddler again, crying in her fatherâs arms. And George cried right along with her.
He wasnât sure how long they sat there together but long enough that the track went quiet as the race ended and the sun rested low enough in the sky to streak golden light across the grass. The cars in the parking lot started to vacate slowly and George took that as their cue. His grip loosened around his daughter and he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before wiping his eyes and looking down at her.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke, âReckon we shouldâŚgo pack up? Head home?â
Ivy nodded but didnât make a move to escape his embrace right away. He didnât rush her. Rather, seeing how she still found comfort in him meant more than he knew how to express.Â
Eventually, she untangled herself from him and he helped her to stand before rising himself. Neither of them spoke on their walk back to their pit tent, taking the moment of silence to process all that had happened. It wasnât all solved now, George knew, but it was a start. The first step of many. Ivy walked close at his side, matching his pace, a reassuring presence that maybe this would be okay.
When they entered the tent, Henrikâs side of the garage was already packed up and his belongings were gone. George wasnât quite sure if he appreciated that they left quietly or if it angered him further; as if they had upended his family and then disappeared without so much as an apology. But he didnât speak to it as he focused on getting Ivyâs things together.Â
The mechanics helped them wordlessly, and George could tell they were sharing silent glances in confusion. Something had happened between the four of themâthey just didnât know what. It wasnât their place to ask, they knew, and George wasnât about to tell them.
While the mechanics took care of the final kart packdown, George helped Ivy out of her race suit and boots and into her street clothes. She was so shaken and upset, still trembling with emotion, that she could hardly get herself changed on her own. She didnât put up a fight when George stepped in to help. A week ago, she would have.Â
She sat there in her favourite purple hoodie, shivering as he tied her sneakers. It was the middle of summer and certainly not cold in the slightest but the adrenaline that had coursed through her and its subsequent drop-off was leaving her unsteady. When George stood up, he pressed a kiss to her head.
âCome on,â he said softly, âLetâs go home.â
Ivy tensed at the word home and raised her eyes up to his in silent challenge.Â
He sighed at her look and added quietly, âIt is your home, Poppet. According to me and to the government of the United Kingdom.â
She sniffled and stood from her chair, lifting her bag from the ground at her feet to sling over her shoulder.Â
George said his goodbyes to the mechanics and wrapped up the weekend with them for a few final moments before they were good to go. They would take care of the disassembling of the tent and karting equipment as always. Then, George placed a gentle hand at her back, guiding her forward towards the car. She dragged her feet with every step like home didnât feel as certain as it had that morning.
When she climbed in the front seat, her bag was tossed into the back without so much as a look. George closed the door behind her and, for just a moment, stood in the momentary solitude and took a breath. It felt like this was all some awful dream that he wasnât going to wake up from and it wasnât even over yet. There was still a two hour drive home to face.
Out of habit, as he walked around the front of the car to the driverâs side, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans to check his notifications. The text waiting for him from Josefine momentarily stopped him in his tracks.
J: I am so sorry, George. I should have handled things differently. I understand if you need spaceâŚjust know Iâm here whenever youâre ready to talk.
Something close to fury burned in his chest, fueled by the unmissable sting of betrayal. He was, yet again, reminded of how he had confided in her with his deepest secret and she turned around and shared it with a child. And now look where he was. With a scoff and a shake of his head, he locked his phone and then yanked open his car door.Â
Ivy didnât even look up as he climbed in, curled up in her seat with her body facing away from him. For a moment, the two of them just sat in silence, side by side in the car. They had a long drive ahead of them and George knew it wasnât going to be an easy one. With a tight breath, he tried to push Josefineâs untimely text out of his mind and, instead, turned the key in the ignition and let the engine rumble to life.Â
âReady to go home then?â he asked.Â
Ivy didnât answer, just staring out the passenger side window with her arms crossed over her chest.
George didnât want to push her and so he simply put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. The drive was quiet for the first few minutes with nothing but the odd tick of his indicator or the anxious tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel.Â
After a while, Ivy broke their silence, âWhy did you sponsor Henrik?â
The sudden question and the subject of it took George by surprise. He didnât particularly want to be talking about the mother and son who just threw them for a loop that afternoon, that turned his structured family into something unbelievably fragile. He stole a brief glance at her as he drove, âWhy did I sponsor Henrik?â
âYeah, likeâŚâ Ivy sniffled and shifted in her seat, still focused out the window at the passing countryside, âIt was always you and me and then suddenly I wasnât good enough and you needed another driver or another kid or something.â
âFirstly, I donât need another kid.â
Ivy scoffed.
George chose to ignore it and continued, âAnd I had been thinking about opening up a sponsorship spot for a few months and when I saw Henrik race, and that he was in need of extra funding, it felt right.â
âWho cares?â
âBecause I like to think I can use my money for good in this world, Poppet. Wealth feels more satisfying to your heart when it's shared with those who donât have it.â
âSo he was a charity?â
âNo, Ivy. Thatâs rude. You donât call someoneââ
She cut him off sharply, âWas I a charity too? Is that why you adopted me?â
âAbsolutely not.â
âI donât get it!â she finally turned to face him from the passenger seat, arms still firmly crossed over her chest, âIf Iâm your favourite and your only, then why did you need to sponsor another driver? Other than doing good with money.â
George sighed, âYou know Granddad had to work extremely hard for me to be able to get through karting when I was a boy. It really hurt our relationship, put pressure on him and our familyâŚit wasnât easy. I saw a lot of that in Henrikâs situation and I wanted to help. I didnât want to suddenly take him in as a second child or anything. This was all professional.â
âUntil you kissed his mom.â
If George could have smacked his head off of the steering wheel he would have. ThankfullyâsomewhatâIvy didnât bother waiting for a response and she continued on with yet another question:
âDoes Nanny and Granddad know? About me?â
âYes. And your aunts and uncles.â
She gaped at him, âEveryone?! Everyone was lying to me?!â
âNo one was lying to you, Ivy Jane.â
âYes, they were!â
âCan weâŚcan we pause this conversation until we get home?â George sighed heavily.
With a frown, Ivy slumped back in her chair and turned out the window once more. As silence settled over the car again, Georgeâfoolishly, for a momentâthought that he would get his wish for a quiet drive.
Instead, only a few moments later, Ivy spoke dully, âItâs your home, not mine.â
Georgeâs shoulders slumped.Â
He sighed, âIvyâŚâ
âItâs your house and you justâŚtook me there one day.â
âI understand that it feels like that right now,â George started patiently, âbut I promise, it is just as much your house as it is mine. Itâs your house and always has been.â
âWithout my permission.â
George exhaled slowly.
âEveryone is first brought to a home without their permission after theyâre born. You were a baby.â
âYou know what I mean.â
George lifted one hand from the steering wheel to rub his fingertips over his forehead with an exasperated, âI donât know what you want me to say here, Poppet.â
âItâs not fair!â she finally turned to look at him, her flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes staring at his profile as he drove. He could feel her glaring at him. âI didnât even get a choice! What if my real parents were nicer or better orâŚor not liars!â
Her voice broke over the last few words. Georgeâs hands tightened on the steering wheel and he desperately tried not to show how much her words hurt. She was trying to hurt him; it was her youthful ignorance that was bubbling through now, coming through in the naive way she knew how at that age.Â
So he chose his words carefully, âWhoever left you with the Agency that night was kind enough to know that you deserved a better life than they could have given you. I like to think you have a pretty nice life because of their decision, Ivy.â
âWith a daddy whoâs a dirty rotten liar!â she snapped sharply.Â
âYou have wanted for nothing. Not once.â Georgeâs response was firm, âI have provided you with everything you could have asked for because I wanted my daughter to have the best. You do not know what it is like to be from a harsh home. You do not know what it is like to struggle. And, God, I hope you never do. Raising you as I did, raising you to believe that you are my daughter, was not lying.â
âYes, it was!â Ivy cut in loudly.Â
âNo,â George said right back, âIt was the truth. And if that was my only shortcoming as a parent then, fuck, I donât know what else I was supposed to do.âÂ
Ivy flinched slightly at his curse, eyes wide in surprise at the rare occurrence and the sincerity in his stern tone that came along with it. He didnât even spare a glance at her as he focused on the road but the tight set of his jaw and firm grip of his hands gave indication that he wasnât messing around. Even still, Ivy was hurt and confused and pushing all she could.Â
It was as if this was a challenge and he was her biggest enemy. Like he had something to prove and she was desperate to catch him out.Â
She pointed a finger at him across the centre console, âWhat was my name then?â
George didnât answer right away. His throat felt like razors. He hated having this conversation and he especially hated having it in the car of all places. He exhaled.Â
âSee? You donât even want to say it!â Ivy shouted.
âYou didnât have a name,â George replied quickly, firmly. He hated that he could feel his patience wearing thin but he was at the end of his rope. His voice was a little louder now, a little desperate for her to hear him, to understand, âYou were six days old and you hadnât been given a name. The only name youâve ever hadâthe only one thatâs ever been yoursâis the one I gave you. You have only ever been Ivy Jane Russell.â
For a moment, it went quiet, almost as if Ivy hadnât expected that answer.
George couldnât hold back the ragged inhale that he pulled to try and keep the tears from falling. He thudded the heel of his palm against the steering wheel, trying to keep himself together. Ivy just stared at him from the passenger seat.Â
âYouâve always been a Russell. Always been my daughter.â George muttered. He sniffled back his forming tears and swallowed the tightness in his throat.Â
âSo I was nothing before you then, huh?â her words were venom, hurt and confusion making for a toxic mix and settling potently in the air around them. âYou just picked me and made me into who you wanted me to be like Iâm just some little dolly.â
George swore his heart was going to give in. How much more of this could he take?Â
âIvyâŚâ he croaked out, voice quivering, not daring even a glance in her direction because he knew it would break him. He blinked away the dampness that weighed down his lashes, trying to keep the road ahead in focus and not wanting to crumble completely in front of her. Not here. âI canâtâjustâŚplease.â
Ivy was next to shouting at him now, her voice shrill and echoing through his car and rattling between his earsâchallenging, challenging, challenging, over and over, wanting to see how far she could push him until he said something incriminating, âWould you have still picked me if you knew what Iâd be like?â
George was at his breaking point and he slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel and shouted back, his voice quivering, âYes! No matter how much you scream at me or misbehave or push me away orâŚor anything! I will always choose you and I will always love you!â
Ivyâfor onceâdidnât reply. Instead, she just sat there in the passenger seat, staring at him as the seconds ticked by. George braved a breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the way her face crumpled. She dragged her sleeve across her face, like she could scrub the emotions away, but the tears kept coming anyway. And then she turned sharply toward the window and pressed her forehead against the glass, her shoulders hitching as she triedâand failedâto keep quiet.
Neither of them spoke the rest of the way home. George didnât even ask if she wanted to pick up a treat for dinner; he just took it upon himself to stop at their local McDonaldâs drive through on the way in. God knew he needed a cheat day more than anything. He didnât even have to ask her what she wanted; it was always a chicken nugget happy meal with a Fanta.Â
Even as Ivy cradled the bag of fast food on her lap, she kept her head slumped against the window, teary eyes blinking through the flicker of street lamps as they drove towards home. The anger seemed to come in waves as she processed the life-altering information she had been told that afternoon. The yelling in the car turned into uncontrollable crying once they reached home.
They sat on the living room couch with the intention to eat, until Ivy ended up crying herself dry in his arms while her chicken nuggets went cold. It was whiplash worthy, really. How she was desperate to find comfort in her father whom, only moments earlier, she was ready to curse the existence of. George would never, ever turn her away. He held her close and rubbed her back and didnât speak, letting his presence soothe her as she poured her emotions out until they dampened the fabric of his shirt.
He was just so, so tired.Â
It felt like it was her first week home with him all over again, when she was a newborn and he was a clueless first time dad. He couldnât recall how many nights they would spend in that same corner of the couch, Ivy wailing in his arms as he cradled her and comforted her and desperately tried to soothe her and wondered if he was failing as a dad. Ten years later and what had changed?Â
God, only a few months ago he was sitting on that same couch with Josefine and telling her his closest kept secret. Little did he know then that telling her would be one of the biggest regrets of his life. He turned his face into Ivyâs frazzled hair and took a breath.
George hardly recognized his voice when he whispered into her hair, âYou have to eat something, Poppet.â
His fingers were drawing curling shapes over her back in that way that always soothed her. Ivy sniffled and rested her cheek on his shoulder so she could peek over at the coffee table where their plates of fast food were now cold. She was always very disciplined about what she ateâalways wanting to eat well to perform wellâbut she was still a ten-year-old at the end of the day and she was always a sucker for a chicken nugget treat. It was serious when she didnât excitedly jump at the opportunity for a Happy Meal.Â
âA few bitesâŚand then we can go upstairs and have a proper snuggle if you want?â George bartered carefully as if he were poking the bear with such an offer.Â
Thankfully, emotionally exhausted Ivy only nodded.Â
Once untangled, they both picked at their meals unenthusiastically. He, too, didnât have the appetite to eat much. He ate what he could of his hamburger to set a good example, feeling Ivyâs eyes on him, watching and observing as she mirrored him with her own timid bites. The half finished plates were left in the living room.Â
It had been at least a few years since Ivy demanded to be carried but, that evening, when she held up her arms to her father, he couldnât even dream of denying her. She was much heavier now than she used to be but he carried her all the way upstairs regardless, taking it step by slow step and savouring the feeling of her arms around his neck and her weight against him.Â
Somehow, in only a blink, the anger came back around like the tides. In her room, George had barely pulled out a fresh pair of pyjamas from her wardrobe when she started up again with the screaming and the accusations. He desperately tried to keep himself calm even as she threw things at him and had a proper fit until, finally, she stormed into her ensuite bathroom and slammed the door behind her.Â
Scrubbing his hands over his face, George cursed under his breath and then slumped back against her desk. Would this day ever end? It felt like weeks ago they had been at the karting track, preparing for the race, when it had only been a few hours at most. Time felt obsolete when you were fighting for your family, your child.Â
George left Ivy to her privacy in her bathroom, understanding that some time alone to process might do her some good. It also would do him some good too, he was sure. In the eerie quiet of his bedroom, as he got himself changed into his pyjamas and washed up, it felt like his ears were ringing. After spending so many years in motorsports, in garages, trackside at races, he wasnât a stranger to loud noises, but maybe the emotional weight that came with this hours long screaming match felt all the more striking.Â
When he emerged from his ensuite, he found Ivy already sitting in his bed, tucked up under the covers right to her chin and blinking up at him with red-rimmed teary eyes. He could have melted on the spot.Â
âThereâs my girlâŚâ he cooed softly as he pulled back the covers to join her.Â
Right away, she was scooting closer and snuggling up with him, resting her head on his chest, right over his heart. George kissed the top of her head and threaded his fingers through her hair at the nape of her neck, trying to massage away her stresses. He didnât push her to talk, just allowing her to gather her thoughts and be comforted by him for as long as she needed.Â
After a moment, Ivy spoke timidly, âIâŚwanna ask questions.â
âOf course,â George acknowledged, âI will give you as many answers as I can.â
Ivy sniffled and shifted under the blankets before settling again and steeling herself enough to ask her first, âWho are my, uhâŚthe, uhâŚthe people who gave me away?â
âWe donât know,â George answered gently, âThey didnât leave anything with you when they dropped you off at the Agency that told us.â
âSo we wonât ever know?â
âIt is very unlikely. At least for the time being."
Selfishly, George wanted to tell her that it was impossible and that there was no way. The concept of her finding her biological parents and leaving him in the dust was a reality he never wanted to face, one he never wanted to risk. Ultimately, he knew, it was her decision. Maybe one to make when she was a little older, but her decision nonetheless.Â
Ivy processed his answer for a moment before asking a followup, âSo we donât know if I look like them? LikeâŚwhoever they are?â
âNo, we donât. But everyone tells me you look like me.â
George leaned away from their embrace a little to look down at her and she turned her face towards his. They just stared at each otherâs tear-streak, sullen faces for a moment. It was true, really. A little frightening just how much Ivy could pass as biologically his. If you didnât know, you never would have suspected. It truly was a match made in heaven.Â
As she stared at him, her bottom lip trembled a little and her voice came out shakily, âIt really hurts, Daddy. I want to be a part of you for real.â
George gently swiped some stray hairs out of her face, âYou are always a part of me, my darling. You are the biggest and most important part of me.â
She sniffled and blinked at him.
âThere is an Ivy sized tattoo on my heart,â George said lightly and gently tapped her nose.Â
âNot for real,â she protested in a mumble.Â
âFeels âfor realâ to me,â George promised.Â
Ivy settled her head back down against his chest and tucked her arm around his middle, snuggling up, safe and warm, in his embrace. His fingers kept playing with the ends of her hair and through the roots, letting her accept the quiet, to think through it.Â
After a moment, she asked in a whisper, âWhen did you first see me?â
âDo you want me to tell you the story?â
She nodded against his chest.
âAlright,â he tightened his arm around her as if to draw her closer, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to her head before he began, âWell, you know I was fostering for a few years so the Agency knew me really well. When they had this baby come in, they thought I might be the perfect choice for an adoption and so they called me up to ask. I was really scared because I had only fostered kids around your ageâŚnever any babies. I always knew I wanted a baby of my own, but I never thought I would have the opportunity.
âBut something inside me kept pulling me towards saying yes. It was like my heart was already giving me an answer before my brain. I hadnât even properly agreed yet and I already went out that same night and bought a cot and a change table and everythingâŚbuilt it all in the middle of the night, just in case my brain caught up on the âyesâ.â
Ivy actually giggled. It was very faint but there and George gave her a little squeeze.Â
âSounds like you,â she stated.
He smiled and continued, âSo first thing in the morning, I knew I had to meet this baby who had already been keeping me up all night with just the thought of her. So I went down to the Agency and they brought out this tiny little bundle and placed it in my arms.â
George caught the break in his voice and he took a second to compose himself, pressing his nose to the top of her head.
And then he continued, âAnd there you were. And I just knew from the second I looked at you that you were mine. That I was meant to be your daddy.â
âWas I tiny?â
George smiled, âSo tiny. And so perfect. I think you were only four or five days oldâŚand you fit right in the crook of my arm.â
âAnd then your brain said âyesâ with your heart?â
âYeahâŚdidnât need much convincing,â George chuckled, âWe had our first cuddle and I got to feed you a bottle and talk to youâŚand within an hour I had all the papers signed and you were coming home with me. To our home.â
Ivyâs nervous fingers played with the neckline of his t-shirt, fiddling, processing.Â
âAnd it was just you and me for almost a whole week until I finally brought you up to Nanny and Granddadâs for a visit. Just you and me. I didnât want to share you with anyone at first, even while you were keeping me up all night crying and pooping and guzzling formula.â
Ivy smiled softly, âYou didnât want to share me? Just like I donât like to share you now.â
âThatâs right,â George chuckled softly, âGuess weâre more alike than we think, hm?â
Ivy hummed faintly against his chest, her fingers still absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt.
âBut you know,â George added after a moment, his voice quieter now, âitâs not really about sharing.â
She stilled slightly, eyes flicking up to his, âItâs not?â
He shook his head gently, pressing another soft kiss to her hair, âNo. No oneâs taking me away from you, Ivy. Not now, not ever. You donât have to fight for me like that. Iâm already yours.â
That seemed to settle something in her. Her hand relaxed against his chest, the tension slowly leaving her small frame.
George spoke softly into her hair as his fingers dancing along her back helped to soothe her even more, âI wasnât assigned by nature and the universe to be your dad, but the stars crossed in all the right ways so that I could choose you. Out of everyone in the worldâall the other baby girls in need of a home and a familyâI only wanted you. I will only ever want you.â
Ivyâs voice was growing heavy with exhaustion, âI love you, Daddy.â
And George could have melted right then and there. With a shaky voice, he replied so easily in a whisper laced with promise, âI love you forever, my Ivy.â
He felt her fading in his arms, her hand going still against the collar of his shirt as sleep took her, her body giving up its long winded fight. It had been an incredibly emotionally draining day for the both of them and a good sleep was something she desperately needed. George stayed just like that, holding her close, watching over her, long after sheâd drifted offâlike if he let go too soon, the world might come and try to take her from him again.
In the quiet stillness of the night, backed by nothing but the soft sounds of Ivyâs breathing, Georgeâs mind drifted back through the tumultuous day. Outside of his concern for Ivyâreplaying all of their arguments and tears and pleading wordsâhis mind settled back on the image of Henrik and Josefine outside of the pit tent, standing there in stunned silence after Henrik let slip the secret that changed everything.Â
George wasnât mad at the boy, that was easy enough to deduct. Henrik was only thatâa boyâand likely had not enough of experience and forethought to have understood to keep such a thing to himself. Especially under the pressure Ivy was pushing onto him. Looking back at the moment now, George sighed out loud. She was really grating on him. She had been for a while. It only made sense that Henrik would snap like that after keeping his mouth shut for months, desperate to dish it back to her in any way he could.
The problem was, he shouldnât have had that secret as ammunition in the first place.Â
For the first time since they met, when George thought about Josefine, he was filled with anger. He lay there in his bed, snuggling his sleeping daughter, and dreaded the next time he would have to see her.Â
It wasnât easy for George to trust someone new and it hadnât been for decades. Having had such a public fronted and illustrious career meant he never knew when women were approaching him for the right reasonsâŚso he always had his guard up. With Josefine, she was so genuine and kind and real. He never felt like there were any ulterior motives with her, always feeling like she understood him more than most given that they were both single parents. Their lives were incredibly different, that was true, but their likeliness came in the form of their respective ten-year-olds and their dedication to them.Â
But, fuck, the concept that the one person he thought he could finally trust went behind his back and told an unreliable child of all people his biggest secret made him feel sick. That exact reason was why he never married, never let anyone in, why he gave his whole life to fostering and then, eventually, to Ivy. He couldnât stomach the risk.Â
Staring at his darkened bedroom ceiling, George blinked away angry tears. He toyed with his options before him; how to cut ties with Josefine without sacrificing Henrik. But it was a mute point. There was no way he could have one without the other. As much as he hated to admit it, there was only one way he could preserve his and Ivyâs fragile wellbeing, and that was to cut off the sponsorship.
He debated this for a while, laying there in his bed with the comfort of his slumbering daughter under his arm, mentally reviewing how he would go about this. He would have to call Josefine and break the news. It would be hard and he really didnât want to hear her voice or her apologies that would, frankly, mean nothing to him in that moment, but it was necessary.Â
So, George carefully untangled himself from Ivy and the bedsheets and slipped out of bed. He took his phone with him into the hallway, stealing one last glance at his sleeping princess before closing the door behind him.Â
By the light of the moon, he stood at the railing at the top of the stairs and dialled Josefineâs number. It rang only twice before she answered it, as if she had been waiting for his call.Â
Her voice was hoarse and almost a whimper when she greeted him with a meek, âGeorgeââÂ
He steeled himself, âHello, Josefine.â
She didnât sound like herself, not totally. She almost sounded like a frightened little girl, trying to piece together words that wouldnât get her in trouble, âHow, uhâŚis everythingâŚare you holding upâŚâÂ
Georgeâs jaw clenched at the feeble attempt at small talk and his free hand gripped tight to the railing in front of him. He had to push on, not drag this on longer than it had to, âI wanted to call as I have made the tough decision to forfeit the sponsorship agreement, effective immediately.â
The sound she made was soft but unmistakably there; a whimper, almost. And then came her pleading, âOh, God, George, please. We are so sorry. I am so sorry. I take full accountability for betraying your trust the way I did. Please, do not take it out on Henrik. Please.â
It was reassuring that she felt remorse, that she was clearly drowning in her guilt. Evilly, George told himself that she deserved to suffer with it. If he felt even an ounce of pity for her, all he had to do was think back to the way his daughter looked at him when she found out his secret and his anger was restored.Â
And so his reply was simple, âMy daughter is my priority, Josefine. She is my priority over everything else, and right now, I have to protect her and deal with the damage you and your son have caused.â
âGeorgeââ
âYou nearly destroyed my family. The trust my child has in me. That is irreversible. Henrik will not be racing with us for the remainder of the season.â
âThere are only two races leftâŚâ
That was felt right in his heart, the reminder that in doing this, he was breaking a young boyâs chance at his biggest dream. He hated himself for it in the same breath that he knew that it was what he had to do. In his career, he had dealt with many hard questions, tough media interviews, and so he took a steeling breath and put himself back in the media pen, in front of a camera, swallowing back his emotions for the sake of what was right and just, âI wish Henrik the best of luck for the remainder of the season.â
There was no response through the line but he could hear her breathing. She knew it was coming.
He had the last word with a simple, âGood night.â
And then he hung up.Â
George let out a shaky breath and leaned forward onto the railing, hanging his head for a moment as he composed himself. Self-preservation wasnât always the easy road but he would do anything for the sake of his daughter.Â
He returned to his bedroom to find Ivy exactly where he left her, curled up under his bedsheets. He carefully slipped back into bed beside her and she shifted in her sleep to snuggle up close again, as if naturally seeking him out for comfort. With gentle hands, he tucked the blankets up around her and kissed her forehead, whispering in a breath against her flushed skin, âI love you.â
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If any of my emoji anons are still out there and still wanting to keep their emoji anon status, please let me know!!
I have a whole list that is quite outdated now and I want to tidy it up. Iâm not sure how many of you are still around as I havenât heard from any of you in a while! Miss you all :â) hope youâre good
Going to the driving range with my dad tomorrow morning but I can't golf because of my wrist (*crowd boos*) so I will be sitting in the clubhouse with my laptop writing smut at 9:30 in the morning, thank you
FORMULA 1 LENOVO GRAND PRIX DU CANADA 2026
SPRINT QUALIFYING
ăResultă
P1 George Russell
P2 Kimi Antonelli
P3 Lando Norris
P4 Oscar Piastri
P5 Lewis Hamilton
P6 Charles Leclerc
P7 Max Verstappen
P8 Isack Hadjar
P9 Arvid Lindblad
P10 Carlos Sainz
P11 Nico Hulkenberg
P12 Gabriel Bortoleto
P13 Franco Colapinto
P14 Esteban Ocon
P15 Oliver Bearman
P16 Fernando Alonso
P17 Sergio Perez
P18 Lance Stroll
P19 Pierre Gasly
P20 Valtteri Bottas
P21 Liam Lawson
P22 Alexander Albon
Notes: Alexander Albon and Liam Lawson failed to set a time in Sprint Qualifying; both were permitted to start the Sprint at the stewards' discretion. Albon did not participate in the session due to car damage sustained in FP1. Oliver Bearman, Pierre Gasly, Valtteri Bottas, and Alexander Albon were required to start the Sprint from the pit lane after cars were modified under Parc Ferme conditions.
Hi dear, I think it's time for me to commit to your masterpieces aka your absolutely incredible fics
First I would like to say I'm the anon that :
-sent the solo idea đŤŚ
-sent the three links for Mr Saturday
-and thought about the live reveal of his face
I would like to be an official anon at last, I've been around your blog for a year or so and I fell in love with your amazing style as you can tell
I'm filling this formal request to be one of your girls đŤŚ
May I be an anon?
While I'm here I have two questions for you :
Are we getting another video tomorrow ? (can you tell I'm excited??)
How many requests have you been sent so far and what are you looking forward to the most ?
love you, take care
-maybe your future đ
AW HELLO LOVELY!! This made me smile so big omg thank you for chatting with me in my ask box and sending such great ideas all the time! I'd love love love to have you as an emoji anon! All the ones I had seemed to have disappeared so it would be so nice to have another đĽš
+ no new 'video' tomorrow 𼲠this stupid wrist injury I have has realllly slowed down my writing speed. I wrote a good chunk last night anyway but I definitely overdid it and I'm paying up for it today :/ I'm so annoyed bc I want to write so badly!!! I want to get more of these out to you guys before the hype wears off!!!
++ I have nine that I will be writing! (Well, ten, but I'm combining two that are very similar!). Honestly, I was most excited for the first one! I think it started us off perfectly; such a great concept. But all of the ones that I've jotted down are so creative and unique and exciting for their own reasons. I loveee a good writing challenge to dabble in new things! (Although there's an idea that I adjusted to be on George's yacht that I currently keep thinking aboutâ but I told myself I'd write them in the order they were submitted!)
Noooo wayyyy that was THE EXACT EDIT that got me thinking of the request I gave. YOU GET MY VISION RIGHT? look at those damn puppy eyes, ughhhh đĽşđŠđ
I'm scared by the algorithm...how did it KNOW?! I've literally never had Fred on my fyp before and then it goes and shows me the exact one... SPOOKED
The Braking Point (gr63) | FIFTEEN (George's Version)
Series Masterlist
âł A/NÂ A lot happened after chapter fourteen that it wouldn't be fair to only show you Josefine and Henrik's aftermath. Arguably, George and Ivy's is just as important, if not more. This is not a necessary read for the plot as this is just an added blurb, but definitely is an emotional addition.
âł Series Summary:Â As a single mother, Josefine is used to doing everything on her own. Leaving everything behind to chase her son's karting dreams in England, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to pushing him through the ranks, no matter the cost...even if it takes everything from her in the process. She knows that nothing is guaranteed and trust isn't easily won, and yet she comes to learn that the biggest lessons may not be found on the track but, rather, in the form of a retired Formula 1 driver and his daughter.
âł Pairings:Â SingleDad!KartingCoach!George Russell x Single Mom!OC
âł Chapter Word Count:Â 7709
âItâs not like heâs even your real dad!â
The second those words left Henrikâs mouth, George felt the air being yanked from his lungs. Had he heard correctly? Had Henrik just said the words that he had been keeping under lock and key for a decade? If he hadnât been so shocked, maybe he would have managed to deflect or to wrongfully deny it or in any way diffuse the situation. Instead, he was stricken into silence.
Ivy turned upon him with a face of pure confusion. Somehow, as much as he wanted to say something, anything, the words had abandoned him. His silence spoke wonders and he watched as his daughterâs face scrunched into a flicker of disbelief, of hurt and betrayal, and she let out the tiniest huff as if choking back tears before she ran off towards the parking lot.Â
George could feel the way everything was crumbling right before his eyes, shattering into pieces and bursting into flame and falling through his fingers faster than he could stop it. His breath shuddered as he watched his daughter run off down the paddock alley as if his feet had been nailed in place.Â
And then realization settled over him, a sudden understanding of where Henrik had pulled his words from. Georgeâs head turned slowly towards Josefine. She was already looking at him.Â
Eyes wide and lips slightly parted, eyebrows creased just the slightest amount in the middle as if in silent plea; she looked guilty in every sense of the word. A brief glance was enough. George had seen enough. She had taken his biggest secret, the thing he had entrusted with her wholeheartedly, and told it to her sonâŚa boy who was barely old enough to understand the meaning of a secret yet alone the weight of the one he held.Â
George couldnât stomach another second there. Without a word, he turned away and headed after Ivy.Â
His pace was brisk as he headed through the narrow alleys between the tents that made up the karting pits, glancing every which way to try and spot her. It certainly helped that the race was still on going, leaving most of the area vacant with everyone busy watching the last few laps. Reaching the parking lot, George skimmed between the tightly parked cars and headed towards his own, assuming she would have gone right there. When he found his G63 perfectly alone, he halted.
âIvy?!â he called out worriedly with a 360 glance around the parking lot. Even he could hear the slight tremble in his voice. He wanted to find her, to make sure she was safe, but what state was he going to find her in when he finally did? This was a conversation he wasnât ready to haveâŚone that he anticipated never having.Â
Continuing on to the end of the grassy parking lot, he finally found her at the very edge of the property where the shrubbery divided the circuit from the farmland beyond. She was still in her race suit, half unzipped, sitting right at the base of the shrubbery as if willing it to swallow her into its branches. Her knees were pulled to her chest and her arms were wrapped around her legs, hiding her face in her arms, the wind taking the frazzled post-race flyaways from her light brown hair around her head like a clumsy halo.Â
Upon spotting her, George slowed to a stop and, for a second, just stared at her. His sweet, brave girl, curled in on herself like she felt so incredibly small.
âPoppetâŚâ he said gently.
At the sound of his voice, Ivy lifted her head from her arms. Her eyes were red-rimmed and shimmering with tears that streaked down her flushed cheeks and when she looked at him, she didnât soften. For the first time, genuinely, she looked at him and her expression hardened. In an instant, she sprung to her feet.Â
âGo away!â she shouted and went to dart past him.Â
âIvy,â George reached for her, quickly managing to grab her arm before she could escape, âIvy, please.â
âNo! I donât want to talk to you!â she sobbed as she thrashed under his grip, âLet me go!âÂ
His grip faltered for just a second, not wanting to restrain her but also not wanting to let her run from him again. When he let go of her arm, she dramatically yanked it back with a stubborn grunt and turned away from him. For a moment, he was sure she was going to run.
âAlright, okay,â he said, voice unsteady and half-panicked, âAlrightâŚwe donât have to talk. You donât have to talk. JustâŚstay with me.â
She stilled, but only barelyâher chest heaving, eyes wild and searching for an escape that wasnât there anymore. George dropped to his knees in front of her to be at her level but he didnât risk touching her, not even when another heavy tear dripped down her cheek and he so desperately wanted to wipe it away and pull her into his arms. His girl.
Ivy wasnât looking at him. Her arms were folded tight across her chest and her gaze was down-turned, staring at the grass and how it seeped into the knees of Georgeâs light wash jeans. He was patient, kneeling there, not caring how long it took. If his presence was grounding for her, reassuring, he would stay there for days.Â
Finally, worn thin, Ivy spoke, a broken sound catching in her throat, âHe saidâhe said youâre not myââ
George didnât hesitate, âI am. I am your dad.â
âNo, are you actually for real?â she pressed.Â
And her eyes met his and George could see the desperation in her gaze, the hurt and confusion and need for the truth.Â
âI, uhâŚâ George swallowed and looked out across the packed parking lot they were hidden behind, like admitting this to her while looking into her eyes was too much to bear. But he owed it to herâŚand, God, heâd do anything for her, no matter how much it hurt. So he looked at her again and told her softly, âI am not your biological dadâŚno.â
The sound she made was somewhere between a gasp and a sob and she shouted at him almost loud enough to echo across the countryside, âWhy didnât you tell me youâre not my real dad?!â
The anger in her words bit him deep. A myriad of memories flashed through his mind of the last ten years, all the ways that she was his and he was hers, right from that very first day. She was upset and trying to come to terms with this news, he understood that, but it was so hard to watch her process this. To watch her look at him like he was a horrible person.Â
With all the stability George could muster in that moment, he kept her stone gaze and replied seriously, âI am your real dad, Ivy. From that first day I held you, I was yours.â
âYou just pretended this whole time!â she protested loudly.
âI know, Poppet! I know, and Iâm sorry. I didnât think there was any reason to tell you. To me, you have always been mine. One hundred percent my girl.â
âNo, Iâm not!â
âYouâre allowed to be angry with me,â George said, âI thought I was doing the right thing. Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry I didnât tell you from the very beginning.â
âWhy didnât you?â Ivy asked, her anger melting around the edges with a small sorrowful hiccup.
âBecause I didnât want you to feel like you didnât belongâŚwith me or our family. Because I was selfish and I thought that it was the right thing to do, to spare you the hurt of knowing. Because my heart just always felt like you were a part of me from the very beginning anyways. You are my daughter, Ivy Jane. In every possible way that matters.â
Ivy shook her head, tears spilling over again as she desperately tried to blink them away.
âThen why him?â
George frowned in slight confusion, âWhat? Why who?â
âHenrik,â she said, her voice cracking, and she wiped at her face angrily, âYouâre always with him. Youâre always helping him and looking at him and I justââ
She dragged in a breath, like she hated what she was about to say.
âI didnât like it. I didnât want to share you.â
Realization settled over George like a weighted blanket. The past months and especially the past few short weeks where she never seemed to leave his side, how she interjected at any given moment with a thought of her own, how she took everything to heart more than usual. How everything increased tenfold since she found him and Josefine in the kitchen during her birthday party, like she was on her best behaviour as if needing to prove something to him. George wanted to curse. Josefine was right. Ivy wasnât okay. How could he have been so dense about his own daughter? Not being able to see what was right in front of him.Â
âIvy,â George said, a little firmer now, with a small shake of his head, almost in disbelief, âYou think I was ever choosing between you and him?â
âI thought you were replacing me,â she blurted out behind a trembling bottom lip.
âReplacing you?â he repeated, quieter now. His eyes were all over her face as if he were trying to read every minute flicker of her expression, desperate to know what had been plaguing her for months on end. Everything that he had been too ignorant to see.Â
âYeah. You donât need me if you have him,â she insisted. Her words were laced with a twinge of self-deprication that was unlike anything he had heard from his self-assured daughter, âYou can justâŚgive me back.â
The words hit him harder than anything else sheâd said. It was as if she had taken a knife and driven it into his chest right there on the outskirts of the grassy parking lot. His breath halted in his lungs as the ache stretched itself across his chest and squeezed his heart.
âIvy Jane Russell,â George said softly but oh-so-seriously, finally reaching forward to gently grasp her arms to insist upon the earnest truth of his next words, âI chose you once. And I choose you every single day after that. There is no one on this Earth that could ever come close to you.â
Her eyes brimmed with fresh tears and her words came out in a rush before her emotions took her over, âI only want you to be my daddy.â
And then she was throwing herself at him and George caught her so easily, pure unbridled instinct. He wrapped her up in his arms and cradled the back of her head with a comforting hand so she could feel the squeeze of his sincerity all around her, the solidarity of his presence.Â
He scrunched his eyes closed as he held her, swearing through the tremble of his own words, âI am! Oh, I am, my love. I always will be and nothing will ever change that. You hear me? Nothing and no one will ever take me from you.â
âPromise?â she whimpered into his shoulder.Â
âI promise,â George croaked out. He couldnât hold back his own tears that dripped down his cheeks and all he could do was hold her a fraction tighter.Â
Even when he slipped off his knees to sit entirely on the grass, Ivy just moved with him, letting him cradle her on his lap like she was a toddler again, crying in her fatherâs arms. And George cried right along with her.
He wasnât sure how long they sat there together but long enough that the track went quiet as the race ended and the sun rested low enough in the sky to streak golden light across the grass. The cars in the parking lot started to vacate slowly and George took that as their cue. His grip loosened around his daughter and he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before wiping his eyes and looking down at her.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke, âReckon we shouldâŚgo pack up? Head home?â
Ivy nodded but didnât make a move to escape his embrace right away. He didnât rush her. Rather, seeing how she still found comfort in him meant more than he knew how to express.Â
Eventually, she untangled herself from him and he helped her to stand before rising himself. Neither of them spoke on their walk back to their pit tent, taking the moment of silence to process all that had happened. It wasnât all solved now, George knew, but it was a start. The first step of many. Ivy walked close at his side, matching his pace, a reassuring presence that maybe this would be okay.
When they entered the tent, Henrikâs side of the garage was already packed up and his belongings were gone. George wasnât quite sure if he appreciated that they left quietly or if it angered him further; as if they had upended his family and then disappeared without so much as an apology. But he didnât speak to it as he focused on getting Ivyâs things together.Â
The mechanics helped them wordlessly, and George could tell they were sharing silent glances in confusion. Something had happened between the four of themâthey just didnât know what. It wasnât their place to ask, they knew, and George wasnât about to tell them.
While the mechanics took care of the final kart packdown, George helped Ivy out of her race suit and boots and into her street clothes. She was so shaken and upset, still trembling with emotion, that she could hardly get herself changed on her own. She didnât put up a fight when George stepped in to help. A week ago, she would have.Â
She sat there in her favourite purple hoodie, shivering as he tied her sneakers. It was the middle of summer and certainly not cold in the slightest but the adrenaline that had coursed through her and its subsequent drop-off was leaving her unsteady. When George stood up, he pressed a kiss to her head.
âCome on,â he said softly, âLetâs go home.â
Ivy tensed at the word home and raised her eyes up to his in silent challenge.Â
He sighed at her look and added quietly, âIt is your home, Poppet. According to me and to the government of the United Kingdom.â
She sniffled and stood from her chair, lifting her bag from the ground at her feet to sling over her shoulder.Â
George said his goodbyes to the mechanics and wrapped up the weekend with them for a few final moments before they were good to go. They would take care of the disassembling of the tent and karting equipment as always. Then, George placed a gentle hand at her back, guiding her forward towards the car. She dragged her feet with every step like home didnât feel as certain as it had that morning.
When she climbed in the front seat, her bag was tossed into the back without so much as a look. George closed the door behind her and, for just a moment, stood in the momentary solitude and took a breath. It felt like this was all some awful dream that he wasnât going to wake up from and it wasnât even over yet. There was still a two hour drive home to face.
Out of habit, as he walked around the front of the car to the driverâs side, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans to check his notifications. The text waiting for him from Josefine momentarily stopped him in his tracks.
J: I am so sorry, George. I should have handled things differently. I understand if you need spaceâŚjust know Iâm here whenever youâre ready to talk.
Something close to fury burned in his chest, fueled by the unmissable sting of betrayal. He was, yet again, reminded of how he had confided in her with his deepest secret and she turned around and shared it with a child. And now look where he was. With a scoff and a shake of his head, he locked his phone and then yanked open his car door.Â
Ivy didnât even look up as he climbed in, curled up in her seat with her body facing away from him. For a moment, the two of them just sat in silence, side by side in the car. They had a long drive ahead of them and George knew it wasnât going to be an easy one. With a tight breath, he tried to push Josefineâs untimely text out of his mind and, instead, turned the key in the ignition and let the engine rumble to life.Â
âReady to go home then?â he asked.Â
Ivy didnât answer, just staring out the passenger side window with her arms crossed over her chest.
George didnât want to push her and so he simply put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. The drive was quiet for the first few minutes with nothing but the odd tick of his indicator or the anxious tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel.Â
After a while, Ivy broke their silence, âWhy did you sponsor Henrik?â
The sudden question and the subject of it took George by surprise. He didnât particularly want to be talking about the mother and son who just threw them for a loop that afternoon, that turned his structured family into something unbelievably fragile. He stole a brief glance at her as he drove, âWhy did I sponsor Henrik?â
âYeah, likeâŚâ Ivy sniffled and shifted in her seat, still focused out the window at the passing countryside, âIt was always you and me and then suddenly I wasnât good enough and you needed another driver or another kid or something.â
âFirstly, I donât need another kid.â
Ivy scoffed.
George chose to ignore it and continued, âAnd I had been thinking about opening up a sponsorship spot for a few months and when I saw Henrik race, and that he was in need of extra funding, it felt right.â
âWho cares?â
âBecause I like to think I can use my money for good in this world, Poppet. Wealth feels more satisfying to your heart when it's shared with those who donât have it.â
âSo he was a charity?â
âNo, Ivy. Thatâs rude. You donât call someoneââ
She cut him off sharply, âWas I a charity too? Is that why you adopted me?â
âAbsolutely not.â
âI donât get it!â she finally turned to face him from the passenger seat, arms still firmly crossed over her chest, âIf Iâm your favourite and your only, then why did you need to sponsor another driver? Other than doing good with money.â
George sighed, âYou know Granddad had to work extremely hard for me to be able to get through karting when I was a boy. It really hurt our relationship, put pressure on him and our familyâŚit wasnât easy. I saw a lot of that in Henrikâs situation and I wanted to help. I didnât want to suddenly take him in as a second child or anything. This was all professional.â
âUntil you kissed his mom.â
If George could have smacked his head off of the steering wheel he would have. ThankfullyâsomewhatâIvy didnât bother waiting for a response and she continued on with yet another question:
âDoes Nanny and Granddad know? About me?â
âYes. And your aunts and uncles.â
She gaped at him, âEveryone?! Everyone was lying to me?!â
âNo one was lying to you, Ivy Jane.â
âYes, they were!â
âCan weâŚcan we pause this conversation until we get home?â George sighed heavily.
With a frown, Ivy slumped back in her chair and turned out the window once more. As silence settled over the car again, Georgeâfoolishly, for a momentâthought that he would get his wish for a quiet drive.
Instead, only a few moments later, Ivy spoke dully, âItâs your home, not mine.â
Georgeâs shoulders slumped.Â
He sighed, âIvyâŚâ
âItâs your house and you justâŚtook me there one day.â
âI understand that it feels like that right now,â George started patiently, âbut I promise, it is just as much your house as it is mine. Itâs your house and always has been.â
âWithout my permission.â
George exhaled slowly.
âEveryone is first brought to a home without their permission after theyâre born. You were a baby.â
âYou know what I mean.â
George lifted one hand from the steering wheel to rub his fingertips over his forehead with an exasperated, âI donât know what you want me to say here, Poppet.â
âItâs not fair!â she finally turned to look at him, her flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes staring at his profile as he drove. He could feel her glaring at him. âI didnât even get a choice! What if my real parents were nicer or better orâŚor not liars!â
Her voice broke over the last few words. Georgeâs hands tightened on the steering wheel and he desperately tried not to show how much her words hurt. She was trying to hurt him; it was her youthful ignorance that was bubbling through now, coming through in the naive way she knew how at that age.Â
So he chose his words carefully, âWhoever left you with the Agency that night was kind enough to know that you deserved a better life than they could have given you. I like to think you have a pretty nice life because of their decision, Ivy.â
âWith a daddy whoâs a dirty rotten liar!â she snapped sharply.Â
âYou have wanted for nothing. Not once.â Georgeâs response was firm, âI have provided you with everything you could have asked for because I wanted my daughter to have the best. You do not know what it is like to be from a harsh home. You do not know what it is like to struggle. And, God, I hope you never do. Raising you as I did, raising you to believe that you are my daughter, was not lying.â
âYes, it was!â Ivy cut in loudly.Â
âNo,â George said right back, âIt was the truth. And if that was my only shortcoming as a parent then, fuck, I donât know what else I was supposed to do.âÂ
Ivy flinched slightly at his curse, eyes wide in surprise at the rare occurrence and the sincerity in his stern tone that came along with it. He didnât even spare a glance at her as he focused on the road but the tight set of his jaw and firm grip of his hands gave indication that he wasnât messing around. Even still, Ivy was hurt and confused and pushing all she could.Â
It was as if this was a challenge and he was her biggest enemy. Like he had something to prove and she was desperate to catch him out.Â
She pointed a finger at him across the centre console, âWhat was my name then?â
George didnât answer right away. His throat felt like razors. He hated having this conversation and he especially hated having it in the car of all places. He exhaled.Â
âSee? You donât even want to say it!â Ivy shouted.
âYou didnât have a name,â George replied quickly, firmly. He hated that he could feel his patience wearing thin but he was at the end of his rope. His voice was a little louder now, a little desperate for her to hear him, to understand, âYou were six days old and you hadnât been given a name. The only name youâve ever hadâthe only one thatâs ever been yoursâis the one I gave you. You have only ever been Ivy Jane Russell.â
For a moment, it went quiet, almost as if Ivy hadnât expected that answer.
George couldnât hold back the ragged inhale that he pulled to try and keep the tears from falling. He thudded the heel of his palm against the steering wheel, trying to keep himself together. Ivy just stared at him from the passenger seat.Â
âYouâve always been a Russell. Always been my daughter.â George muttered. He sniffled back his forming tears and swallowed the tightness in his throat.Â
âSo I was nothing before you then, huh?â her words were venom, hurt and confusion making for a toxic mix and settling potently in the air around them. âYou just picked me and made me into who you wanted me to be like Iâm just some little dolly.â
George swore his heart was going to give in. How much more of this could he take?Â
âIvyâŚâ he croaked out, voice quivering, not daring even a glance in her direction because he knew it would break him. He blinked away the dampness that weighed down his lashes, trying to keep the road ahead in focus and not wanting to crumble completely in front of her. Not here. âI canâtâjustâŚplease.â
Ivy was next to shouting at him now, her voice shrill and echoing through his car and rattling between his earsâchallenging, challenging, challenging, over and over, wanting to see how far she could push him until he said something incriminating, âWould you have still picked me if you knew what Iâd be like?â
George was at his breaking point and he slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel and shouted back, his voice quivering, âYes! No matter how much you scream at me or misbehave or push me away orâŚor anything! I will always choose you and I will always love you!â
Ivyâfor onceâdidnât reply. Instead, she just sat there in the passenger seat, staring at him as the seconds ticked by. George braved a breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the way her face crumpled. She dragged her sleeve across her face, like she could scrub the emotions away, but the tears kept coming anyway. And then she turned sharply toward the window and pressed her forehead against the glass, her shoulders hitching as she triedâand failedâto keep quiet.
Neither of them spoke the rest of the way home. George didnât even ask if she wanted to pick up a treat for dinner; he just took it upon himself to stop at their local McDonaldâs drive through on the way in. God knew he needed a cheat day more than anything. He didnât even have to ask her what she wanted; it was always a chicken nugget happy meal with a Fanta.Â
Even as Ivy cradled the bag of fast food on her lap, she kept her head slumped against the window, teary eyes blinking through the flicker of street lamps as they drove towards home. The anger seemed to come in waves as she processed the life-altering information she had been told that afternoon. The yelling in the car turned into uncontrollable crying once they reached home.
They sat on the living room couch with the intention to eat, until Ivy ended up crying herself dry in his arms while her chicken nuggets went cold. It was whiplash worthy, really. How she was desperate to find comfort in her father whom, only moments earlier, she was ready to curse the existence of. George would never, ever turn her away. He held her close and rubbed her back and didnât speak, letting his presence soothe her as she poured her emotions out until they dampened the fabric of his shirt.
He was just so, so tired.Â
It felt like it was her first week home with him all over again, when she was a newborn and he was a clueless first time dad. He couldnât recall how many nights they would spend in that same corner of the couch, Ivy wailing in his arms as he cradled her and comforted her and desperately tried to soothe her and wondered if he was failing as a dad. Ten years later and what had changed?Â
God, only a few months ago he was sitting on that same couch with Josefine and telling her his closest kept secret. Little did he know then that telling her would be one of the biggest regrets of his life. He turned his face into Ivyâs frazzled hair and took a breath.
George hardly recognized his voice when he whispered into her hair, âYou have to eat something, Poppet.â
His fingers were drawing curling shapes over her back in that way that always soothed her. Ivy sniffled and rested her cheek on his shoulder so she could peek over at the coffee table where their plates of fast food were now cold. She was always very disciplined about what she ateâalways wanting to eat well to perform wellâbut she was still a ten-year-old at the end of the day and she was always a sucker for a chicken nugget treat. It was serious when she didnât excitedly jump at the opportunity for a Happy Meal.Â
âA few bitesâŚand then we can go upstairs and have a proper snuggle if you want?â George bartered carefully as if he were poking the bear with such an offer.Â
Thankfully, emotionally exhausted Ivy only nodded.Â
Once untangled, they both picked at their meals unenthusiastically. He, too, didnât have the appetite to eat much. He ate what he could of his hamburger to set a good example, feeling Ivyâs eyes on him, watching and observing as she mirrored him with her own timid bites. The half finished plates were left in the living room.Â
It had been at least a few years since Ivy demanded to be carried but, that evening, when she held up her arms to her father, he couldnât even dream of denying her. She was much heavier now than she used to be but he carried her all the way upstairs regardless, taking it step by slow step and savouring the feeling of her arms around his neck and her weight against him.Â
Somehow, in only a blink, the anger came back around like the tides. In her room, George had barely pulled out a fresh pair of pyjamas from her wardrobe when she started up again with the screaming and the accusations. He desperately tried to keep himself calm even as she threw things at him and had a proper fit until, finally, she stormed into her ensuite bathroom and slammed the door behind her.Â
Scrubbing his hands over his face, George cursed under his breath and then slumped back against her desk. Would this day ever end? It felt like weeks ago they had been at the karting track, preparing for the race, when it had only been a few hours at most. Time felt obsolete when you were fighting for your family, your child.Â
George left Ivy to her privacy in her bathroom, understanding that some time alone to process might do her some good. It also would do him some good too, he was sure. In the eerie quiet of his bedroom, as he got himself changed into his pyjamas and washed up, it felt like his ears were ringing. After spending so many years in motorsports, in garages, trackside at races, he wasnât a stranger to loud noises, but maybe the emotional weight that came with this hours long screaming match felt all the more striking.Â
When he emerged from his ensuite, he found Ivy already sitting in his bed, tucked up under the covers right to her chin and blinking up at him with red-rimmed teary eyes. He could have melted on the spot.Â
âThereâs my girlâŚâ he cooed softly as he pulled back the covers to join her.Â
Right away, she was scooting closer and snuggling up with him, resting her head on his chest, right over his heart. George kissed the top of her head and threaded his fingers through her hair at the nape of her neck, trying to massage away her stresses. He didnât push her to talk, just allowing her to gather her thoughts and be comforted by him for as long as she needed.Â
After a moment, Ivy spoke timidly, âIâŚwanna ask questions.â
âOf course,â George acknowledged, âI will give you as many answers as I can.â
Ivy sniffled and shifted under the blankets before settling again and steeling herself enough to ask her first, âWho are my, uhâŚthe, uhâŚthe people who gave me away?â
âWe donât know,â George answered gently, âThey didnât leave anything with you when they dropped you off at the Agency that told us.â
âSo we wonât ever know?â
âIt is very unlikely. At least for the time being."
Selfishly, George wanted to tell her that it was impossible and that there was no way. The concept of her finding her biological parents and leaving him in the dust was a reality he never wanted to face, one he never wanted to risk. Ultimately, he knew, it was her decision. Maybe one to make when she was a little older, but her decision nonetheless.Â
Ivy processed his answer for a moment before asking a followup, âSo we donât know if I look like them? LikeâŚwhoever they are?â
âNo, we donât. But everyone tells me you look like me.â
George leaned away from their embrace a little to look down at her and she turned her face towards his. They just stared at each otherâs tear-streak, sullen faces for a moment. It was true, really. A little frightening just how much Ivy could pass as biologically his. If you didnât know, you never would have suspected. It truly was a match made in heaven.Â
As she stared at him, her bottom lip trembled a little and her voice came out shakily, âIt really hurts, Daddy. I want to be a part of you for real.â
George gently swiped some stray hairs out of her face, âYou are always a part of me, my darling. You are the biggest and most important part of me.â
She sniffled and blinked at him.
âThere is an Ivy sized tattoo on my heart,â George said lightly and gently tapped her nose.Â
âNot for real,â she protested in a mumble.Â
âFeels âfor realâ to me,â George promised.Â
Ivy settled her head back down against his chest and tucked her arm around his middle, snuggling up, safe and warm, in his embrace. His fingers kept playing with the ends of her hair and through the roots, letting her accept the quiet, to think through it.Â
After a moment, she asked in a whisper, âWhen did you first see me?â
âDo you want me to tell you the story?â
She nodded against his chest.
âAlright,â he tightened his arm around her as if to draw her closer, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to her head before he began, âWell, you know I was fostering for a few years so the Agency knew me really well. When they had this baby come in, they thought I might be the perfect choice for an adoption and so they called me up to ask. I was really scared because I had only fostered kids around your ageâŚnever any babies. I always knew I wanted a baby of my own, but I never thought I would have the opportunity.
âBut something inside me kept pulling me towards saying yes. It was like my heart was already giving me an answer before my brain. I hadnât even properly agreed yet and I already went out that same night and bought a cot and a change table and everythingâŚbuilt it all in the middle of the night, just in case my brain caught up on the âyesâ.â
Ivy actually giggled. It was very faint but there and George gave her a little squeeze.Â
âSounds like you,â she stated.
He smiled and continued, âSo first thing in the morning, I knew I had to meet this baby who had already been keeping me up all night with just the thought of her. So I went down to the Agency and they brought out this tiny little bundle and placed it in my arms.â
George caught the break in his voice and he took a second to compose himself, pressing his nose to the top of her head.
And then he continued, âAnd there you were. And I just knew from the second I looked at you that you were mine. That I was meant to be your daddy.â
âWas I tiny?â
George smiled, âSo tiny. And so perfect. I think you were only four or five days oldâŚand you fit right in the crook of my arm.â
âAnd then your brain said âyesâ with your heart?â
âYeahâŚdidnât need much convincing,â George chuckled, âWe had our first cuddle and I got to feed you a bottle and talk to youâŚand within an hour I had all the papers signed and you were coming home with me. To our home.â
Ivyâs nervous fingers played with the neckline of his t-shirt, fiddling, processing.Â
âAnd it was just you and me for almost a whole week until I finally brought you up to Nanny and Granddadâs for a visit. Just you and me. I didnât want to share you with anyone at first, even while you were keeping me up all night crying and pooping and guzzling formula.â
Ivy smiled softly, âYou didnât want to share me? Just like I donât like to share you now.â
âThatâs right,â George chuckled softly, âGuess weâre more alike than we think, hm?â
Ivy hummed faintly against his chest, her fingers still absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt.
âBut you know,â George added after a moment, his voice quieter now, âitâs not really about sharing.â
She stilled slightly, eyes flicking up to his, âItâs not?â
He shook his head gently, pressing another soft kiss to her hair, âNo. No oneâs taking me away from you, Ivy. Not now, not ever. You donât have to fight for me like that. Iâm already yours.â
That seemed to settle something in her. Her hand relaxed against his chest, the tension slowly leaving her small frame.
George spoke softly into her hair as his fingers dancing along her back helped to soothe her even more, âI wasnât assigned by nature and the universe to be your dad, but the stars crossed in all the right ways so that I could choose you. Out of everyone in the worldâall the other baby girls in need of a home and a familyâI only wanted you. I will only ever want you.â
Ivyâs voice was growing heavy with exhaustion, âI love you, Daddy.â
And George could have melted right then and there. With a shaky voice, he replied so easily in a whisper laced with promise, âI love you forever, my Ivy.â
He felt her fading in his arms, her hand going still against the collar of his shirt as sleep took her, her body giving up its long winded fight. It had been an incredibly emotionally draining day for the both of them and a good sleep was something she desperately needed. George stayed just like that, holding her close, watching over her, long after sheâd drifted offâlike if he let go too soon, the world might come and try to take her from him again.
In the quiet stillness of the night, backed by nothing but the soft sounds of Ivyâs breathing, Georgeâs mind drifted back through the tumultuous day. Outside of his concern for Ivyâreplaying all of their arguments and tears and pleading wordsâhis mind settled back on the image of Henrik and Josefine outside of the pit tent, standing there in stunned silence after Henrik let slip the secret that changed everything.Â
George wasnât mad at the boy, that was easy enough to deduct. Henrik was only thatâa boyâand likely had not enough of experience and forethought to have understood to keep such a thing to himself. Especially under the pressure Ivy was pushing onto him. Looking back at the moment now, George sighed out loud. She was really grating on him. She had been for a while. It only made sense that Henrik would snap like that after keeping his mouth shut for months, desperate to dish it back to her in any way he could.
The problem was, he shouldnât have had that secret as ammunition in the first place.Â
For the first time since they met, when George thought about Josefine, he was filled with anger. He lay there in his bed, snuggling his sleeping daughter, and dreaded the next time he would have to see her.Â
It wasnât easy for George to trust someone new and it hadnât been for decades. Having had such a public fronted and illustrious career meant he never knew when women were approaching him for the right reasonsâŚso he always had his guard up. With Josefine, she was so genuine and kind and real. He never felt like there were any ulterior motives with her, always feeling like she understood him more than most given that they were both single parents. Their lives were incredibly different, that was true, but their likeliness came in the form of their respective ten-year-olds and their dedication to them.Â
But, fuck, the concept that the one person he thought he could finally trust went behind his back and told an unreliable child of all people his biggest secret made him feel sick. That exact reason was why he never married, never let anyone in, why he gave his whole life to fostering and then, eventually, to Ivy. He couldnât stomach the risk.Â
Staring at his darkened bedroom ceiling, George blinked away angry tears. He toyed with his options before him; how to cut ties with Josefine without sacrificing Henrik. But it was a mute point. There was no way he could have one without the other. As much as he hated to admit it, there was only one way he could preserve his and Ivyâs fragile wellbeing, and that was to cut off the sponsorship.
He debated this for a while, laying there in his bed with the comfort of his slumbering daughter under his arm, mentally reviewing how he would go about this. He would have to call Josefine and break the news. It would be hard and he really didnât want to hear her voice or her apologies that would, frankly, mean nothing to him in that moment, but it was necessary.Â
So, George carefully untangled himself from Ivy and the bedsheets and slipped out of bed. He took his phone with him into the hallway, stealing one last glance at his sleeping princess before closing the door behind him.Â
By the light of the moon, he stood at the railing at the top of the stairs and dialled Josefineâs number. It rang only twice before she answered it, as if she had been waiting for his call.Â
Her voice was hoarse and almost a whimper when she greeted him with a meek, âGeorgeââÂ
He steeled himself, âHello, Josefine.â
She didnât sound like herself, not totally. She almost sounded like a frightened little girl, trying to piece together words that wouldnât get her in trouble, âHow, uhâŚis everythingâŚare you holding upâŚâÂ
Georgeâs jaw clenched at the feeble attempt at small talk and his free hand gripped tight to the railing in front of him. He had to push on, not drag this on longer than it had to, âI wanted to call as I have made the tough decision to forfeit the sponsorship agreement, effective immediately.â
The sound she made was soft but unmistakably there; a whimper, almost. And then came her pleading, âOh, God, George, please. We are so sorry. I am so sorry. I take full accountability for betraying your trust the way I did. Please, do not take it out on Henrik. Please.â
It was reassuring that she felt remorse, that she was clearly drowning in her guilt. Evilly, George told himself that she deserved to suffer with it. If he felt even an ounce of pity for her, all he had to do was think back to the way his daughter looked at him when she found out his secret and his anger was restored.Â
And so his reply was simple, âMy daughter is my priority, Josefine. She is my priority over everything else, and right now, I have to protect her and deal with the damage you and your son have caused.â
âGeorgeââ
âYou nearly destroyed my family. The trust my child has in me. That is irreversible. Henrik will not be racing with us for the remainder of the season.â
âThere are only two races leftâŚâ
That was felt right in his heart, the reminder that in doing this, he was breaking a young boyâs chance at his biggest dream. He hated himself for it in the same breath that he knew that it was what he had to do. In his career, he had dealt with many hard questions, tough media interviews, and so he took a steeling breath and put himself back in the media pen, in front of a camera, swallowing back his emotions for the sake of what was right and just, âI wish Henrik the best of luck for the remainder of the season.â
There was no response through the line but he could hear her breathing. She knew it was coming.
He had the last word with a simple, âGood night.â
And then he hung up.Â
George let out a shaky breath and leaned forward onto the railing, hanging his head for a moment as he composed himself. Self-preservation wasnât always the easy road but he would do anything for the sake of his daughter.Â
He returned to his bedroom to find Ivy exactly where he left her, curled up under his bedsheets. He carefully slipped back into bed beside her and she shifted in her sleep to snuggle up close again, as if naturally seeking him out for comfort. With gentle hands, he tucked the blankets up around her and kissed her forehead, whispering in a breath against her flushed skin, âI love you.â
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