Summary- What should've been a happy pregnancy, collapses after lando is seen with a model, but in a turn of event, his teammate constant presence and patience turns him from just a friend, to a lover.
Warnings- Infidelity, Magui, kika being stupid (I love her guys, I'm sorry) cursing.
(Pretend kika and Magui are still friends)
Okay quick smau bc I want to finish my Franco fic 🥹
Masterlists | F1 Masterlist
Lando and Y/n_Norris
Liked by Oscarpiastri,Mclaren, Charles_leclerc and 1.1m more
Lando and y/n_norris Round two 🤍
Kikagomes So excited!
Oscarpiastri Congrats!
Alexandrasaintmleux Wishing the best 🫶🏻
McLaren lord save us… another Norris
User she’s glowing
Carlossainz55 Leo is already the best big brother
User they’re so cute 🥹
User cutest family.
User to think that they met because Lando lost his nephew at the park 😭
User WAIT THATS HOW THEY MET?!?
User yeppp
User they’re endgame 💚
Instagram stories
Oscarpiastri caption- Uncle duties
⤷ lando best uncle
⤷ y/n_norris thanks again 🧡
Y/n_norris caption- 🐣🪞
⤷ Lando so pretty, baby
⤷ kikagomes glowing 😻
A few weeks later….
Text messages- Lando and reader-Reader and Oscar.
A week later
Y/ny/ln
Liked by Oscarpiastri, kikagomes, and 981k more
Y/ny/ln Another boy 🫶🏻
Oscarpiastri the prettiest.
Alexandrasaintmleux omggg you’re glowing baby
User Oscar’s comment? 👀
User chill her and Lando just got divorced
User aww is that lando’s helmet?
Y/ny/ln no ♥️
User she always looks so good 😻
Lilymhe Aunt Lily is ready!
Alex_Albon I’m going to the the favorite uncle 😎
User I think @oscarpiastri got you beat mate
Charles_leclerc congrats ♥️
Lando so excited.
User did she delete lando’s comment?
User I would too if my ex-husband was posted up in my comments after cheating.
⤷ liked by Oscarpiastri
Oscarpiastri
Liked by y/ny/ln, McLaren, Lando and 2.1m more
Oscarpiastri Quick break + dinner.
Y/n/y/ln great, now I want steak.
Oscarpiastri I’ll make you some dw.
Hattiepiastri big
User slutty waist
McLaren getting that rest 💪💪
Logansargeant Why are you posed like that
Oscarpiastri like what??
Logansargeant like a … guy
Oscarpiastri I am a guy?
Logansargeant oh right, I forgot.
Oscarpiastri blocked.
User ARE THOSE TOYS IN THE BACKGROUND OF SLIDE 2?!?
User wait stop, you’re right. Sus
User delusions
Lando good break mate 👍
User I miss Logan and Oscar
⤷ liked by Oscarpiastri & Logansargeant
User why is Lando STILL online
⤷ liked by Oscarpiastri
User hot
User I need him badly.
Twitter
Instagram stories
Oscarpiastri caption- Cuties
⤷ Lando ???
⤷User oh this was unexpected
Oscarpiastri caption- Strong little one
⤷ Y/ny/ln I'm pretty sure he beat you
⤷Oscarpiastri 100%
Twitter
Magui_Corceiro and Lando
Liked by kikagomes, Mclaren, Carlos sainz 55th, user, and 1m more
Magui_Corceiro and Lando Family day 🧡
User oh that not…
User this is so wrong
User being the second choice is not cute, sweetie
Alexandrasaintmleux this is not cute, honey, you deliberately got with a man who was married.
Charles_leclerc Alex, this does not involve us.
Alexandrasaintmleux speak for yourself.
User they’re so cute 🥰
User Leo is definitely starting to like her 🫶🏻
Oscarpiastri Interesting definition of family.
User this is damage control, not love.
User Leo bonding won’t erase the cheating.
Kikagomes Funny how everyone suddenly becomes moral police.
User Didn’t YOU introduce them?
Alex_Albon take accountability
User “family day” with your affair partner is insane.
Lando I’m not engaging with any comments.
Y/ny/ln then why cosplay a family with my child?
Text messages- Lando and reader- Oscar and Lando
F1gossippage
Likes by 187k
F1gossippage Lando Norris has unfollowed Oscar Piastri, following the comment Oscar had made under Lando’s post about him and Magui.
User unfollowing your teammate instead of addressing the cheating is insane
User so honesty gets you blocked now?
User this is messier than the relationship timeline
User why is he still following kika but not oscar 🤔
User the math is NOT mathing
User that unfollow was loud
User he unfollowed him faster than he explained himself
User PR team is crying somewhere
User this is not the move
User family day post + unfollow combo is crazy
User This whole thing feels like damage control
User yeah… this is not blowing over
User watch him re-follow in 3 days and pretend nothing happened
Twitter
Oscarpiastri and Y/ny/ln
Liked by Charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, alex_Albon and 2.3m more
Oscarpiastri and y/ny/ln Welcome to the world, Jack Matheo Y/ln 🫶🏻
charles_leclerc Congratulations 🤍 such a beautiful moment.
User THE BABY IS HERE 😭😭
alexandrasaintmleux So precious, congratulations to you both.
User that tiny hand holding his finger I can’t
alex_albon Congrats mate 🥹 welcome to the world little one.
User This explains EVERYTHING about oscar lately
carmenmmundt My heart 🫶 congratulations!
User She named him after Oscar 🥹
rebeccadonaldson Absolutely beautiful 🤍
User not me crying over her second f1 baby
georgerussell63 Huge congratulations ❤️
User this feels real, not staged
kellypiquet Welcome little one 🤍
User the calm after all the chaos
egle So happy for your family 🤍
isabellafonthill So so sweet 🥹
User idk this feels wrong
User the finger grip = already wrapped around him
User yeah he’s fully in dad mode
User this healed the timeline a bit
Oscarpiastri
Likes by y/ny/ln, McLaren, Pierregasly and 2.1m more
Oscarpiastri Always you, always the boys.
Y/ny/ln Thank you for always being there for me and Leo. You have been nothing but be good to the both of us 🥹 I’m super grateful. I love you.
Oscarpiastri wouldn’t ask for anything else, beautiful,I love you.
User This is what stepping up actually looks like.
Carlossainz55 Huge respect to you both.
User Helping her through pregnancy and loving Leo like his own I’m emotional.
Pierregasly Family first, always. Congratulations.
User Second dad to Leo was the plot twist I needed.
User You can tell this wasn’t for cameras.
Fernandoalonso Taking care of your people is what matters most, felicidades!
User He chose her and chose her children too.
Nico_hulkenberg Wishing you nothing but happiness.
User Pregnancy is vulnerable and he never left her side 🥹
Lance_stroll Happy for you all.
User Leo gaining a second dad is the sweetest part.
Logansargeant Much love to your family Oscar.
User This is what real partnership looks like.
Zhouguanyu24 Congratulations, beautiful family.
User The way he talks about Leo tells me everything.
Danielricciardo So much love here, congrats mate.
User Oscar didn’t just show up, he stayed.
User This is healing after everything she went through.
Summary: A little smau about all the times Lewis has been simping about you over the radio, featuring poor Riccardo just trying to do his job.
Tags: fluff, humor, established relationship
Warnings: swearing
Other drivers: Radio Check | Masterlist
a/n: I’m sorry, but the list is getting too long to add all the links here, so I made a Masterlist with all the other versions <3
hamiltonsradio
Liked by f1gossippofficial, and 3,948,172 others
hamiltonsradio Lewis’ radio during the Australian Grand Prix, today. Due to a mistake during the pit stop, he fell back to P9, finishing the race in said place. 😕
view all comments
username One day Lewis will find happiness at Ferrari, I scream as they drag me away
username anyone else think the vibe is completely off during ferrari & lewis radios or is that just me
username no ur right they seem really cold towards him???
username can’t tell if he’s being so bitchy because of ferrari fuckery or if he just misses Y/N 💔
username the way lewis always walks around all tough and then he’s such a softie when it comes to her 😭😭
username you can’t go home yet, you still have to attend your weekly therapy session with charles
username LMAOOOO why is everybody so mean to him in this comment section
username well because why would you go to ferrari OF YOUR OWN FREE WILL when you know damn well how they treated charles, their literal golden boy, since.. uh… ever????
hamiltonsradio
Liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 4,929,772 others
hamiltonsradio LEWIS FIRST RACE WIN WITH FERRARI!!! ❤️🏎️ And is there anything cuter than this radio message to Y/N? We don’t think so. 🫶🏻
view all comments
username the difference between him thanking ferrari and him thanking her says a lot lol
username almost like one’s his girlfriend and one’s just a co-worker 🤦 get a life
username HE SAID MY LOVE JDJSHDJS AHHHH
yourusername My man everybody ❤️
lewishamilton Wouldn’t be that man without you my love ❤️❤️
username Oh my fucking god these two 😭😭
username never gonna make fun of lewis simping again cause clearly they’re two pieces of the same puzzle lmao
scuderiaferrari Fucking iconic. ❤️
username hey admin you’re posting on main again
hamiltonsradio
Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 4,939,777 others
hamiltonsradio Lewis’ race during the first free practice session today! 😬
view all comments
username the way he’s even talking about her when he thinks no one’s listening is so- 😭😭
username not them gossiping about the beauty of tracks like?? what??
username right and what is the criteria of a beautiful track then lmao
lewishamilton Silverstone is beautiful
yourusername Of course you would say that
lewishamilton It’s because it’s home, where you are ❤️
username AJHDHSHAHS HELP
maxverstappen1 He’s right tho. The track is ugly.
username Not Max backing up Lewis 😭😭 What a great day to be alive
hamiltonsradio
Liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, lewishamilton, and 5,982,773 others
hamiltonsradio Seems like there was a little inchident during the race today, as Lewis felt physically sick. He did finish the race tho, making it to P4. 🏎️
view all comments
username So this woman is a lawyer, looks like a goddess, attends every race to support her man, AND SHE CAN BAKE?? Lewis if you don’t marry her I will istg
lewishamilton Believe me I’m planning to
yourusername HELLO??? WHAT???
lewishamilton Shhh 🤫 You didn’t see a thing
username not him half proposing in this comment section WHAT
username i have no one to talk to about this 😭😭
username being in the F1 fandom is slowly driving me crazy man i just wanted to watch cars go vroom and now look at me
hamiltonsradio
Liked by f1gossippofficial, yourusername, and 5,828,731 others
hamiltonsradio Lewis singing on the radio today! 😂
view all comments
username the silence is so LOUD LMAOOO
username didn’t take lewis hamilton for someone who listens to damiano david
username RIGHT why is no one talking about this???
username not these lyrics lewis 😭😭😭
username Riccardo is so fucking dry and sarcastic and I’m here for it
username when you’re going to the sassy remark contest but Riccardo’s already there
username this comment TOOK ME TF OUT
riccardo_adami Kinda missing Carlos these days
username IM PISSING MYSELF 😭
—
Other drivers: Radio Check | Masterlist
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! (For a particular driver or every version is up to you!)
✫ my first oscar smau in honor of the australian gp 🥹
🝮
yn
liked by pierregasly and 1,845,556 others
yn me when the waiter said they don’t offer shirley temples
francolapinto i like shirley temples too…i can make you a shirley temple
⤷ yn i think i’m too young for you
⤷ francolapinto aren’t you 21?
⤷ yn yeah i thought you liked 31 year olds??
⤷ francolapinto OH umm….
⤷ alex_albon Damn she clocked you
⤷ francolapinto OH WHO IS YOU 😒
arthur_leclerc biggie
⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t be rude Arthur
⤷ yn yeah arthur ur just mad i didn’t bring you any food back for you fattie
⤷ arthur_leclerc oh so i get growled at for calling her biggie but she doesn’t for calling me fattie?
⤷ charles_leclerc No you’re older you should know better
⤷ arthur_leclerc i can never win 💔
alexandrasaintmleux my favorite date 🥰🥰
⤷ yn my favorite sugar mama 🙂↕️
lilymhe How does one look so pretty whilst doing the most normal things?
leclerc_pascale My beautiful baby girl 😍🥰🥰
⤷ yn love u maman 🩷🩷
lando when are you gonna stop stealing your brothers girlfriend and get your own boyfriend?
⤷ yn whenever i want butt muncher. not like anyone lives up to my standards anyways
⤷ lando i might know someone
⤷ carlossainz55 No
⤷ yn and who would that be
⤷ charles_leclerc stop trying to get my little baby sister to date your gross friends lando
alex_albon why are your last 7 posts pictures of you eating
⤷ yn what is it a crime to enjoy good food now or what??? GOSH JUST SAY YOU HATE ME AND YOU THINK IM UGLY AND WANT ME TO DIE
oscarpiastri I love shirley temples
⤷ arthur_leclerc 🤨 whaddomeanbythat
⤷ oscarpiastri What is it a crime to express my love for shirley temples now or what?
⤷ nicolepiastri I’ve never seen you drink a shirley temple in your entire life
⤷ oscarpiastri Mommmmmmm
⤷ georgerussell63 Shhhhhh little Oscar is finally shooting his shot
⤷ alex_albon With his step auntie?
⤷ georgerussell63 Not now Alex go have Lily read to you or something
🝮
yn
liked by oscarpiastri and 1,717,426 others
yn went to milan for pasta, and to support charles ig, mostly lewis…but not really…i miss carlos. sorry not sorry CHARLOS4LIFE
georgerussell63 Ooh girl you’re radiating black cat energy
⤷ alex_albon I was bouta say
alexandrasaintmleux My babyyy 🥰🥰❤️
⤷ yn my sissy 🥹🩷
carlossainz55 My ride or die 🤞🏽🤞🏽
⤷ yn they could never make me hate you carlos sainz 💙💙 i’m williams’ number 1 fan now
⤷ williamsracing @scuderiaferrari got your girl 🤣
⤷ scuderiaferrari awh HELL NAHH
oscarpiastri Did you get your shirley temple this time?
⤷ yn indeed i did
⤷ oscarpiastri And how was it
⤷ yn i guess it was alright, it could be better
⤷ oscarpiastri I could make you a better one next week in Australia if you like
⤷ charles_leclerc Wait a damn minute
nicolepiastri You beautiful girl
⤷ yn thank you mama piastri 🥰🥰
⤷ pierregasly YOO IS BUG FINALLY GONNA GET HER FIRST BOYFRIEND???
⤷ yn ho did you just…
⤷ pierregasly I apologize but this is so exciting
francisca.cgomes Ooh lala 😍😍😍
lilymhe I miss you queen I’ve actually been having conversations with Alex to pass by time 💔
⤷ alex_albon Oh thats great to hear 🥲
danielricciardo I just know you fcked some pasta UPPPP
⤷ yn yardy know it dan
lewishamilton Thank you?
⤷ yn you’re welcome dafuq
hattiepiastri face card is insane
⤷ yn oh stop it you 🤭
⤷ pierregasly YOOO BUG GOT THE WHOLE FAMILY HYPING HER UP
⤷ yn pierre…
⤷ pierregasly Once again, I apologize I’m just so invested in this I actually can’t help it
charles_leclerc I’m kinda hurt Leo got to go but I had to stay at the hotel…
⤷ yn i didn’t want to turn into the third wheel
⤷ charles_leclerc yeah right i turn into the third wheel whenever you and alex are together
arthur_leclerc the B in bug stands for biggie
⤷ yn i just watched you pound back 5 chocolate croissants in 3 minutes fattass 🤣🤣🤣 try eating a salad for once double wide
⤷ alex_albon DAMNNN SHE CLOCKED YOU TOO
⤷ oscarpiastri No one humbles you like your own sister
⤷ arthur_leclerc oh who is you 😒
⤷ yn shut up porky go scarf down a hamburger or something butterball
⤷ alex_albon clockedddd
⤷ pierregasly Defending Oscar????? Omg I love this so much please please please never stop 🙏🏽
🝮
yn
liked by kendalljenner and 1,063,782 others
yn i’m here australia
pierregasly Everyone shut up my show is on
maxverstappen1 This early? 👀
⤷ yn boi why you stirring the pot 🤨
mclaren papaya on top 🧡
⤷ yn fosho 🧡
arthur_leclerc Put the food away lil bro
⤷ yn eating all this food AND not working out AND i’m STILL skinner than you 🤣🤣 try harder you fuckin loser 🤕
⤷ alex_albon DAMNNNM ik arthur HATES to see bug coming ⏰😭
mercedesamgf1 Pretty gal 🤩🤩🖤
⤷ yn 🖤🙂↕️
alexandrasaintmleux And who took this picture cause I know it wasn’t me 🫣
⤷ yn you’re supposed to be on my side
williamsracing 😍😍
⤷ yn 😘😘💙
charles_leclerc Hey why are you there before me??? What are you up to 🤨🤨
charles_leclerc I better not see any pictures or videos of you with a certain aussie on tik tok
lando i spy papaya. and who drives a papaya car? oscar piastri. and where is oscar piastri from? australia. and where are you? australia. THEY’RE DATING GUYS I CRACKED THE CODE!!
⤷ yn onto something or on something??
scuderiaferrari OUR girl 🥰😍😍
⤷ yn 🫣❤️❤️
oscarpiastri Care to join me for a shirley temple later tonight?? :)
⤷ yn sounds lovely ;)
⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOO :’)
⤷ charles_leclerc WOAH WOAH WOAH OSCAR THAT IS YOUR AUNTIE YOU SICKO
⤷ alex_albon HELL YEAH OSCAR SHOOT YOUR SHOT BRO
⤷ danielricciardo Oscar gettin rizzyyyyy
⤷ lando that’s my boy 🥲 they grow up so fast
f1 collecting f1 teams like infinity stones
🝮
yn
liked by haileybieber and 2,819,164 others
yn what a view
pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOOOOO
arthur_leclerc who dis r
leclerc_pascale So cute mon amour 🥰
⤷ nicolepiastri It was so nice meeting your daughter Pascale! She’s just a ray of sunshine, I’ve never seen Oscar smile so much 😂
⤷ leclerc_pascale Thank you Nicole! Your son is the sweetest he’s been treating y/n so well while she’s been Australia she’s loving it so much over there it’s gonna be hard to get her back home 😂😂 we’ll have to meet up soon!
⤷ nicolepiastri Yes we’ll have to go to lunch with the kids so we can embarrass them with their childhood stories and pictures LOL! 😂
⤷ pierregasly No one knows what this means to me fr
⤷ charles_leclerc YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS MAMAN???? YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME??
⤷ leclerc_pascale Let your sister be happy Charles and be glad she’s talking to a kind man who treats her well instead of one who is mean to her.
⤷ charles_leclerc Wait you lowk right
⤷ charles_leclerc Wait sorry I forgot I was talking to my mother
pierregasly kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ francisca.gomes kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ carmenmmundt kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ georgerussell63 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ alex_albon kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ lilymhe kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ charlotte2304 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ lorenzotl kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ charles_leclerc what the hell it’s not like i can keep you from dating any longer. kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
⤷ lando KISS DAMN IT
⤷ oscarpiastri Okay
⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOO BRUHH I DID THAT
🝮
yn
liked by lewishamilton and 3,371,405 others
yn i love you australia
pierregasly YOOOOOO CALL ME RN OMGGG
⤷ yn pierre…
⤷ pierregasly CALL ME BUG
⤷ yn ok damn
⤷ francisca.cgomes maybe it is a good thing that f1 is back this week…
charles_leclerc ❤️
⤷ pierregasly YOOOO HE GOT THE APPROVAL
nicolepiastri Australia loves you too ;)
⤷ pierregasly yooo 😏🤨
lorenzotl “Australia” sure
⤷ yn 🤫
⤷ pierregasly YOOO
arthur_leclerc at least you’re eating fruit
⤷ yn yeah you should try it once in while fuckin pot belly pig
⤷ alex_albon CLOCKEDDD
⤷ arthur_leclerc Do you really have nothing else better to do?? 😒
⤷ yn DO YOU HAVING NOTHING BETTER TO DO YOU FUCKING LOSER
⤷ alex_albon ⏰⏰⏰
oscarpiastri I love you Monaco
⤷ leclerc_pascale Monaco loves you too ;)
⤷ pierregasly YOOO THIS IS CRAAAZY
⤷ oscarpiastri Do you just constantly refresh instagram to see new comments?
⤷ pierregasly Durrrr
danielricciardo Okay just out here lookin all radiant and shit
lando oi who’s that handsome bloke in the last slide? 😏😏
⤷ yn 8️⃣1️⃣
⤷ pierregasly YOOO QUIT TRYNA BE ALL SNEAKY AND JUST HARD LAUNCH!!!!!!!!!!
⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah guys it’s pretty obvious you two are already dating
⤷ charles_leclerc I mean you started dating a week after meeting but who cares it’s obvious you guys are never breaking up
⤷ williamsracing You’re all fighting for second, we got Carlos so that means we got y/n
⤷ yn ladies ladies there’s enough of me for everyone 🙂↕️🙂↕️
🝮
oscarpiastri
liked by charles_leclerc and 1,407,583 others
oscarpiastri I’ve been taking up photography lately, what do you guys think?
pierregasly YOOOOO BRUHH YOU GUYS ARE LIKE BASICALLY MARRIED NOW
charles_leclerc No funny business 🤨
francisca.cgomes oscar don’t know what to do with allat
⤷ oscarpiastri Trust me, I do
⤷ pierregasly YOOO GETTING FREAKY ON THE MAIN?? OSCAR PIASTRI???? FREAKY?????
lando So you guys basically have me to thank for this whole relationship 🤷♂️
yn get my good side 🙂↔️
⤷ francisca.cgomes girl every side of you is good 😘
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux So photogenic it makes me mad 😾
⤷ yn you guys literally look like angels all hours of the day
leclerc_pascale Mon petite fille 🩷🩷
danielricciardo I bet Oscar took this picture just to take it like she didn’t even have to ask like he’s just the type of guy to do that
⤷ maxverstappen1 Oscar is the type of guy to see something his girlfriend would like and buy it on the spot
⤷ alex_albon Oscar is the type of guy to take pictures of cute animals and sunsets to send to his gf and be like “thought of you”
⤷ georgerussell63 Oscar is the type of guy to go to the wake up at 3am and make his girl food because she said she was hungry
⤷ pierregasly Yoo my boy Oscar is the type of guy who would let his girlfriend put her feet on his face and be unbothered
⤷ lando oscar is the type of guy who would be to scared to be rough with his girlfriend in bed
⤷ yn you’d be surprised…i know i was
⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOO
⤷ lando oscar you dirty boy 😈😈
⤷ maxverstappen1 Where did polite cat Oscar go?? 🤨
⤷ danielricciardo Oscar you naughty naughty boy what have you been up to this week 😈😈
⤷ oscarpiastri I put my phone down to make y/n a grilled cheese and tomato soup and this is what I come back to?
🝮
yn
liked by leahkateb and 1,938,241 others
yn this is my husband guys we eloped 👩❤️💋👨
pierregasly YOOO ARE YOU FR????
oscarpiastri We didn’t elope guys we literally just started dating last week
⤷ charles_leclerc The talking stage lasted barely 6 days before you asked her out so we wouldn’t be surprised
⤷ leclerc_pascale When you know you know
⤷ nicolepiastri One day he was introducing her to us as his friend a week later he texted the family group chat “we’re dating btw” 😂🩷
oscarpiastri In a few years baby 😂
⤷ pierregasly Yo this got me feeling all giddy and shit 🥹 oh young love
⤷ yn bro’s gonna be 30 next year 😟 old asl you’re gonna get arthritis soon
⤷ georgerussell63 I know Oscar is never bored with bug
⤷ oscarpiastri Definitely keeps me on my toes…don’t be surprised if I start graying in the next few months guys
⤷ leclerc_pascale Mon chou quit giving Oscar such a hard time please
⤷ yn i can’t help it maman it’s just who i am
⤷ oscarpiastri I’ll gladly take worry lines and gray hair as long you’re by my side ❤️
⤷ yn omg stoppp do you like me or something 🙂↕️
⤷ oscarpiastri I like you a lot
⤷ oscarpiastri Give her minute she had to step outside to calm down
⤷ yn omg i like you too
⤷ arthur_leclerc they’re commenting all this while sitting by each other btw
charles_leclerc Out of everyone in the world I’m glad you ended up with Oscar because I didn’t think anyone else had the patience to deal with you and your standards other than your own family
⤷ yn ok rude 🖐️ fuck out my face slut
⤷ oscarpiastri Let’s go get some ice cream and take a walk on the beach honey
⤷ yn comingggg 😋😋😋😋
⤷ danielricciardo And they lived happily ever after
“We dreamed alone, but together we believed. And as a team, we achieved things that … thank you for all the courage, the determination, the passion, and for seeing me and supporting me. What started out as a leap of faith turned into a journey into the history books. We did everything together and I’m so so grateful to everyone. From the bottom of my heart, all the best.”
- Lewis Hamilton (in his final radio for Mercedes)
Summary: Max Verstappen could never be called a bleeding heart, he’s head of the mafia for crying out loud, but when his sister begs him to help her friend escape from an abusive marriage, he can’t help but be drawn to you … and do whatever’s necessary to keep you safe
Warnings: domestic violence, murder, and mentions of Jos Verstappen
The restaurant is loud, filled with the hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from nearby tables. You sit across from Victoria, watching her tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she stirs her drink with the thin straw. The monthly dinner — the one you never miss — has always been a comfort. It’s the one place you can pretend, even if for just an hour or two, that everything in your life is … normal.
But tonight, Victoria’s eyes narrow as she looks at you. She sets the drink down, barely touched. “What’s that on your arm?”
You glance down quickly, tugging your sleeve further down. “What?” You say, trying to sound casual. Too casual. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t do that.” She leans forward, her voice lowering. “I saw it earlier when you were reaching for the breadbasket. Bruises.”
Your heart stumbles in your chest. You reach for the glass of water, but your hand trembles. You pull it back, trying to hide the shake. “V, I told you. It’s nothing. I-I’m just clumsy, you know?”
Her eyes lock onto yours, and the silence stretches between you both. The noise of the restaurant fades into the background, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears. She’s not buying it. She never has.
“You’re not clumsy,” Victoria says quietly, her voice cutting through the noise. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t break eye contact. “You’ve never been clumsy. Not like that.”
You swallow hard, feeling the lump form in your throat, the one you’ve been pushing down for months, years, who knows how long now. You try to smile, but it falters. “It’s really-”
“Don’t lie to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “Please don’t lie to me.”
And that’s when it happens. The floodgates open. Your chest tightens, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. You don’t even have the strength to wipe it away. You just sit there, trembling, while Victoria watches, her expression filled with concern and something like anger. But it’s not at you.
“He-” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your hands, twisting them together in your lap. “He hits me, Victoria.”
The words hang there, suspended in the air between you, before they drop like stones into the pit of your stomach. You regret saying them the moment they leave your mouth, but there’s no taking them back now.
Victoria’s breath hitches. “Oh my God.”
You shake your head quickly, regretting it all, wishing you could pull it all back, pretend you never said anything. “No, no. It’s not — it’s not like that all the time. It’s just — sometimes he gets angry. You know how things can get.”
Victoria’s face hardens. “No, I don’t know. And don’t do that. Don’t downplay it.”
You bite your lip, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from your chest. You can’t look at her. Not when her eyes are filled with that mixture of pity and anger. It makes you feel small, weak. But you can’t stop now. It’s all coming out, spilling over like a dam that’s cracked.
“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “I can’t leave him, Victoria. I have nothing. I don’t have my own money. I don’t even have my own credit card. Everything is in his name. Everything.”
Victoria’s hand reaches across the table, grabbing yours. Her grip is firm, warm, grounding. “You don’t need money to leave him. You just need to get out.”
You blink away the tears, shaking your head, your throat tight. “I don’t even have enough for a lawyer. He’s smart, Vic. He’s careful. He makes sure I can’t-”
“I know a lawyer.” Victoria’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, steady and calm. “And he’ll take you on for free. Pro bono. No questions asked.”
You stare at her, your brain struggling to catch up with her words. For a moment, it feels like the world shifts, tilting on its axis. “A lawyer?” Your voice sounds foreign, like it’s coming from someone else. “For free?”
Victoria squeezes your hand tighter, her eyes sharp, determined. “Yes. For free. You don’t have to pay a dime. You just have to let me help you.”
“I-” You shake your head again, overwhelmed, the weight of everything pressing down on you. “I can’t. I can’t just leave. What if-”
“What if what?” Victoria’s voice rises slightly, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “What if he kills you? What if next time, it’s worse? You don’t have to live like this. You shouldn’t live like this.”
You pull your hand back, pressing it against your forehead, trying to stop the panic building inside you. “You don’t understand, Vic. It’s not that simple. He’ll know I’m planning something. He’s always watching, always checking up on me. And if I mess up, if I try to leave-”
Victoria interrupts, her voice fierce. “Then we’ll get you somewhere safe. You don’t have to do this alone.”
The tears come harder now, faster, as you sit there, your body shaking with the force of them. “I don’t know how I got here,” you manage between sobs. “I don’t know how it got this bad.”
Victoria gets up, sliding into the seat next to you, her arm wrapping around your shoulders. She pulls you close, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel something other than fear. You feel the warmth of her friendship, the safety of her presence.
“You don’t have to stay, you hear me?” She whispers, her voice soft but firm. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone in this.”
You shake your head, still clinging to that last thread of fear, of doubt. “He’ll come after me. He’ll find me.”
“No, he won’t.” Her voice is firm, stronger than you’ve ever heard it. “You’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”
There’s a long silence between you, the weight of her words sinking in. You wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling, trying to catch your breath.
“I don’t know what to do,” you finally admit, your voice small, exhausted.
Victoria pulls back slightly, looking at you with those fierce eyes of hers. “You don’t have to know what to do right now. You just have to let me help you. One step at a time.”
You nod, but it’s more out of exhaustion than agreement. Your body feels heavy, weighed down by everything — by the bruises, the fear, the hopelessness. But there’s something else there too. Something small but growing. Hope.
Victoria squeezes your hand again, as if reading your thoughts. “We’ll get you out. I promise.”
You don’t say anything, because you’re not sure you believe her. But in this moment, sitting here in this crowded restaurant with your best friend by your side, it’s the first time in a long time you feel like maybe, just maybe, you have a way out.
***
Victoria doesn’t waste a second after dinner. The moment you part ways outside the restaurant, her mind is already racing, fingers scrolling through her phone for a contact she hasn’t dialed in months.
Max.
She knows exactly where he’ll be. He’s always at the penthouse late into the night — never sleeping until the early hours, always up to something. It’s been that way since their father passed. Even now, years after he took control of everything.
Her heels click sharply on the marble floors as she walks into the sleek, modern lobby of his building. The doorman gives her a polite nod — he knows who she is — but doesn’t stop her from heading straight for the private elevator.
The ride up is quick, the air tense. Victoria’s fingers twitch with nerves. She’s not scared of Max, not really, but talking to him about this — about you — feels different. She hasn’t brought him anything this personal in years. Ever since he took over their father’s operation, Max has become a closed book. Hard. Calculated. Cold, even.
The elevator doors open with a soft chime, and she steps into the hallway, making her way to the penthouse door. She doesn’t bother knocking. Max expects her by now.
The penthouse is a reflection of him — clean, sharp lines, monochrome tones, everything in its place. Expensive. Impenetrable. Just like him.
Max stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his back to her. The city lights cast shadows over his broad frame. He’s in a tailored suit, as always. Even at home, he’s never out of uniform, always dressed for business.
“Vic,” he says without turning around. He doesn’t need to see her to know it’s her. He always knows. “What brings you here at this hour? You usually text before showing up.”
Victoria exhales, trying to steady her nerves. “I need a favor.”
That gets his attention. Max turns, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they meet hers. He doesn’t say anything, just waits. That’s the thing about him — he never rushes, never speaks before thinking. It’s why he’s so dangerous. And effective.
“It’s not for me,” she adds quickly, stepping further into the room. “It’s for a friend.”
Max raises an eyebrow, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “A friend?”
She nods, hesitating for a moment. “It’s … complicated.”
He walks over to the bar, refilling his glass, then gestures toward it with a tilt of his head. “Drink?”
Victoria shakes her head. “No. I need you to listen.”
Max leans back against the bar, his eyes fixed on her. “I’m listening.”
She takes a deep breath, plunging in. “You remember Y/N? My friend from university?”
There’s the slightest flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he doesn’t comment. He just waits for her to continue.
“She’s in trouble,” Victoria says, her voice lower now, as if speaking the words makes it more real. “Her husband — he hits her. She’s … she’s trapped. She can’t leave. He controls everything. All the money, the house, everything. She doesn’t have a way out.”
Max doesn’t react immediately, his face unreadable as always. But Victoria can tell he’s listening closely. He’s always been good at that, hearing what isn’t said.
“I told her you could help,” Victoria says, biting her lip. “I told her you’d represent her. Pro bono.”
Max raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a humorless smile. “Pro bono?”
“You’re a lawyer, Max. And you’re the best I know.”
He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “I haven’t practiced law in years, Vic. You know that.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Victoria steps forward, her voice firm. “You’re still licensed, and you still know more than anyone else. She doesn’t have time to find another lawyer. She needs someone who can handle her husband — and he’s not just some random guy. He’s smart, careful. He knows exactly how to keep her under control.”
Max takes a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes flickering to the window before settling back on her. “And why should I get involved in this?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Her voice hardens. “And because … you know what it’s like.”
Max’s jaw tightens, the first crack in his stoic exterior. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” Victoria crosses her arms, stepping closer. “Dad used to beat the hell out of Mom. And you saw it, just like I did. You know what that does to someone. You know how trapped she must feel.”
Max’s eyes darken, but he stays silent, his grip tightening around the glass.
“She can’t do this alone, Max,” Victoria presses. “And I know you — if you get involved, you can get her out. You have the resources, the power. Hell, you’ve been running the goddamn mafia for the last six years. I’m pretty sure you can handle one abusive husband.”
Max’s expression hardens at the mention of the mafia. It’s a subject Victoria rarely brings up. But tonight, there’s no avoiding it.
Their father was a force of nature, larger than life, ruthless. A man who ruled with an iron fist both at home and in the underworld. But for all his power, for all his control, he had one weakness — his temper. And when he lost it, their mother bore the brunt of it. It’s a memory that neither Victoria nor Max can erase, no matter how many years have passed.
Their father insisted on education, though. “A smart leader is a dangerous leader,” he used to say. He forced both Max and Victoria to get degrees — real ones. Victoria went into business. Max chose law, not because he ever wanted to practice, but because he knew the value of understanding the system from the inside. It was a tool, a weapon he could wield in both worlds — the legitimate and the illegitimate.
When their father died, Max took over. It wasn’t a choice. It was an obligation. And he’s been running the empire ever since, using his legal expertise as just one more weapon in his arsenal.
But now, Victoria is asking him to use it for something different.
Max sets the glass down with a soft clink, walking over to the window. He looks out over the city, his hands in his pockets, the silence stretching between them.
“She’s scared, Max,” Victoria says quietly, her voice softer now. “She’s terrified, and she doesn’t know how to get out. I can’t just sit by and watch her go through this. And I know you won’t either.”
Max doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze is distant, like he’s seeing something far beyond the city lights. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he turns back to her.
“What’s the husband’s name?” He asks, his voice low but sharp.
Victoria exhales, relief flooding her chest. She knew he wouldn’t turn her away. He never does. “Jonathan Harper.”
Max nods once, his expression unreadable. “I’ll look into him.”
“Thank you,” Victoria says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Max walks over to her, his eyes meeting hers with that intensity that always unnerves people. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation.
“Good,” he says, turning away again, already moving toward his desk. “Tell her I’ll take the case. But she needs to be ready. Once this starts, there’s no going back.”
Victoria nods, even though he’s not looking at her. “I’ll tell her.”
“And, Vic,” Max adds, his voice colder now, sharper, “you know what happens if this goes sideways. He’s not just some guy. I’m not going to pull punches if things get messy.”
Victoria swallows hard, but she doesn’t flinch. “I know.”
Max’s eyes flicker back to hers, and for the first time tonight, his expression softens, just slightly. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Victoria smiles, though it’s a sad smile. “I know you will.”
She turns to leave, her heart still racing, but lighter now. Max is involved. You’ll be safe. She’s sure of it.
Just as she reaches the elevator, Max’s voice stops her. “You’re a good friend, Vic.”
She turns, meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that she can’t quite place — something softer than usual.
“So are you,” she says quietly.
The elevator doors close behind her, and for the first time that night, she allows herself to breathe.
***
It’s a quiet evening when you walk into Victoria’s house, your hands trembling slightly as you push the door open. The warm air from inside greets you, the faint scent of vanilla candles lingering in the air. But you can’t take any comfort in it. Your nerves are shot, and your heart hammers against your ribs with every step you take.
Victoria’s house is familiar, but tonight, it feels like foreign territory. You haven’t been here in months — haven’t been anywhere that felt safe in what feels like years. Your lips are swollen, your eye still tender to the touch, though the worst of the bruising has started to fade into ugly shades of green and yellow. You can feel the pulse of it beneath your skin with every beat of your heart, a constant reminder of what happened.
You don’t want to be here. You don’t want anyone to see you like this, especially not Victoria. And especially not her brother.
Victoria meets you at the door, her expression soft but concerned, her eyes immediately darting to your face. She’s trying not to show how horrified she is, but you can see it in the way her lips press together, in the tightening of her shoulders.
“Hey,” she says gently, pulling you into a hug before you can protest. Her arms are warm, firm around you, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into her.
“I’m fine,” you whisper, even though you know she doesn’t believe it.
She pulls back just slightly, looking at your face with a quiet sadness. “You don’t have to say that. Not with me.”
You nod, swallowing hard. “Is … is he here?”
“Max?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder toward the living room. “Yeah. He’s waiting inside. Don’t worry, he’s — he’s good at this kind of thing.”
Your stomach twists. You’ve never met Max properly. You’ve heard about him, of course. Victoria used to mention him all the time in university, back when he was in law school, back before he took over everything. But you’ve never been in the same room with him. And now? Now, it feels overwhelming.
You can’t stop thinking about how you look. How awful you must seem. A mess of bruises and broken pieces.
Victoria must sense your hesitation because she touches your arm lightly. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. But Max … he’ll help you. I swear.”
“I know,” you say, but your voice is small. “I just — I don’t want to waste his time. I can’t even pay him. I don’t have-”
“He knows,” Victoria interrupts, her voice firm. “I told him everything. He doesn’t care about the money, trust me.”
You glance toward the living room, anxiety tightening in your chest. “Okay.”
Victoria leads you inside, and you feel every step like it’s too heavy, like your body is made of stone. When you finally step into the living room, you see him — Max — sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, assessing. He’s dressed in a black suit, the jacket hanging open, his tie loosened just slightly at the collar. His hair is slicked back, and his features are sharp, chiseled in a way that makes him look both intimidating and somehow … calm.
He stands when he sees you, but the moment his eyes land on your face, something changes in his expression. The cold calculation that had been there melts away, replaced by something much darker — something that looks a lot like fury.
For a moment, you think he’s angry at you, but then you realize it’s not you. It’s what’s been done to you.
“Jesus Christ,” Max mutters under his breath, his voice low, dangerous. He steps forward, but then stops himself, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “He did this to you?”
You don’t answer at first. You can’t. Your throat is too tight, the shame curling around your chest, making it hard to breathe.
Max looks at Victoria, and then back at you. His voice softens, though it’s still edged with that same cold anger. “Sit down. Please.”
You nod, moving to the couch opposite him, your body stiff, awkward. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want anyone looking at you. But there’s no going back now.
Victoria sits beside you, her hand resting on your knee, offering silent support.
Max doesn’t sit back down. Instead, he stays standing, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze never leaving you. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice gruff. “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
You try to smile, but it’s weak, and your lip twinges with pain. “It’s … it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Max says, his voice sharper now, cutting through the air like a knife. “And it’s not going to happen again.”
You blink, your eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “I can’t — I can’t pay you, Max. I-I don’t have anything. Everything’s in his name. The house, the accounts … everything. I don’t even have a credit card.”
Max shakes his head, stepping closer. “You don’t need to pay me. That’s not why I’m doing this.”
Your throat tightens. “But I don’t want to-”
“Don’t,” he cuts in, his tone softer but still firm. “Don’t apologize. You don’t owe me anything. I’m going to help you, and I don’t need your money to do it.”
“But-”
“Listen to me,” Max says, sitting down across from you, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans in. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering. “I’ve seen this before. I know what it’s like to feel trapped. My father … he was the same way. He beat my mother for years, and she stayed because she thought she didn’t have a choice. But you do. You have a choice.”
You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over you. “I just don’t know how to — how to leave. He controls everything. He’ll find me if I try to go. He always finds me.”
Max’s expression darkens, his jaw tightening. “Not this time. I promise you, once we start this, he won’t get near you again. We’ll make sure of it.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, the hope you’ve tried to bury for so long flickering faintly in the back of your mind. “But how? He’s … he’s smart. He’s careful. He’ll know if I try to leave.”
Max’s gaze sharpens, his voice low and deliberate. “He might be smart, but he’s not smarter than me. I’ll make sure we take him for everything he’s worth. You’ll get what’s yours, and he’ll have nothing.”
You stare at him, trying to process the weight of what he’s saying. It doesn’t feel real. The idea of being free, of having something — anything — of your own seems impossible. But the way Max says it, the confidence in his voice, makes it seem … possible.
Victoria squeezes your knee gently, her voice soft but steady. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. We’ll take it one step at a time. But Max … he’s got this.”
You nod, your throat too tight to speak. The tears you’ve been holding back slip down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.
Max leans back, his expression softening for the first time since you walked in. “You don’t have to be sorry. You don’t have to be anything but ready to fight back. And I’ll be right there with you.”
There’s a long silence in the room, the weight of everything pressing down on you. But for the first time in years, it doesn’t feel like you’re carrying it alone. Max’s presence is steady, strong, and somehow … comforting. You’re not sure how or why, but you feel like you can trust him. Like he’ll keep his word.
You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can get out of this.
***
The city lights flicker below, casting shadows on the polished floors of Max’s penthouse as he stands at the window, phone in hand. He’s never been the type to hesitate, but this call — it’s personal now. His jaw tightens as he stares out over the skyline, the weight of what he’s about to do settling in his chest.
You’re staying at Victoria’s tonight, safe for now. It’s been hours since Max left you there, but your face — the bruises, the haunted look in your eyes — still lingers in his mind. He can't shake it. The rage he felt earlier, seeing you like that, bubbles back up to the surface, but he channels it into cold calculation.
He dials the number Victoria had given him, the one listed under your husband’s name, Jonathan Harper. Max’s fingers are steady, even though his blood simmers beneath the surface. He presses the phone to his ear, waiting.
One ring.
Two rings.
On the third ring, the line clicks open, and a voice comes through, sharp and annoyed.
“Who the hell is this?” Jonathan’s voice is biting, laced with impatience. “It’s late. What do you want?”
Max takes a slow breath, his voice low, smooth as steel. “This is Max Verstappen. Y/N’s lawyer.”
There’s a pause, a brief one, and then Jonathan lets out a derisive snort. “Lawyer? She’s got a lawyer now? You’re joking, right? She can’t even afford to pay for groceries, let alone a lawyer.”
Max’s grip on the phone tightens. “She doesn’t need to worry about that. I’m representing her pro bono.”
Jonathan scoffs, the sound thick with disdain. “Pro bono? Let me guess, you’re one of those bleeding-heart types, huh? Think you’re gonna save the poor damsel in distress? She doesn’t need saving, you idiot. She knows her place.”
Max’s chest tightens, but his voice remains eerily calm. “Her place? The only place she’ll be is as far away from you as possible.”
Jonathan laughs, cold and condescending. “You think you can just take her away from me? She’s nothing without me. She doesn’t have a dime. She’s got no friends, no family that gives a damn. She’s worthless. The only reason she’s got a roof over her head is because of me.”
Max’s jaw clenches. “She’s filing for divorce.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line, followed by a harsh, barking laugh. “Divorce? Is that what she told you? You must be even dumber than you sound. She can’t divorce me. She doesn’t have the guts. Besides, what’s she gonna get in the divorce? The clothes on her back? I own everything. And trust me, I’ll make sure she leaves with nothing.”
“You’re mistaken,” Max says, voice hardening. “She’s not walking away with nothing. You’re going to pay, and you’re going to pay big.”
“Pay?” Jonathan’s voice rises, anger seeping through now. “For what? For putting a roof over her head? For putting food in her mouth? I’ve been supporting her pathetic ass for years, and now she’s pulling this stunt? She’s nothing but an ungrateful little-”
Max cuts him off, his voice like ice. “Watch your mouth.”
The venom in Jonathan’s voice deepens. “I’ll say whatever the hell I want about her. She’s mine. She’ll always be mine. And you can’t change that, no matter what you do. You think a lawyer’s gonna scare me? I’ve seen your type before. You show up, throw around a few legal threats, and then crawl back under your rock when it doesn’t work out. But guess what? I’ve got a lawyer, too. And he’s ten times better than whatever pro bono hack you are.”
Max doesn’t flinch, doesn’t rise to the bait. He’s heard men like Jonathan before. Hell, he’s dealt with men far worse. But something about this — about the way Jonathan talks about you — makes his blood boil in a way it hasn’t in years.
“You’re going to bring your lawyer,” Max says, his tone calm but laced with menace. “And you’re going to meet me. We’ll settle this properly. Or I’ll take you to court, and I’ll make sure you lose everything.”
Jonathan spits another laugh. “You’re bluffing. You can’t take me to court. I’ll bury you, and I’ll bury her, too. You’ve got no case.”
Max’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “You’d be surprised what I can do. I’m not just some lawyer. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Jonathan’s tone shifts, unease creeping in for the first time. “Yeah? And who the hell are you?”
Max doesn’t answer right away. He lets the silence stretch, lets the weight of the question hang in the air. Then, quietly, but with the full force of his reputation behind it, he says, “I’m the man who’s going to destroy you.”
There’s a pause. Max can almost hear the gears turning in Jonathan’s head, the realization dawning. Jonathan doesn’t know the full story yet, but he’s starting to understand that Max isn’t just some random lawyer off the street.
“You think you’re tough?” Jonathan spits, but his voice falters, just slightly. “You think you can intimidate me? You’ve got no idea what I’m capable of. I’ve got connections, money-”
“I don’t care about your money,” Max interrupts, his voice deadly calm. “And your connections? They mean nothing. Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to meet me in person. Tomorrow. Noon. I’ll send you the location. Bring your lawyer. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a formality.”
Jonathan is silent for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is colder, more calculated. “You think you can push me around? Fine. I’ll meet you. But don’t think for a second this is over. When I’m done, she’ll be crawling back to me, and you? You’ll wish you’d never gotten involved.”
Max’s lips curl into a grim smile, but there’s no humor in it. “We’ll see.”
With that, Max hangs up, the sound of the call ending echoing in the quiet room. He stares at the phone in his hand, his mind already working through the next steps, the strategies. But the rage — cold and burning at the same time — still simmers just beneath the surface.
He walks over to the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The burn of the alcohol does little to dull the edge of his anger, but it sharpens his focus. He thinks of you, your bruised face, the way you flinched when you talked about Jonathan.
Max doesn’t care about the money or the case. This isn’t about winning a legal battle. This is about something much bigger. Jonathan Harper is the kind of man Max despises — the kind of man who thinks he can take what he wants, hurt who he wants, without consequence.
Max has dealt with men like Jonathan his whole life. His father was one of them. He remembers the nights his mother spent hiding in their bedroom, her face swollen, her eyes red from crying. He remembers standing outside the door, helpless, listening to the sound of his father’s rage. He swore, even as a boy, that he would never be like his father. And now, he’s making sure men like him pay.
He takes another sip of whiskey, his thoughts hardening into resolve. Jonathan Harper has no idea what’s coming for him.
Max pulls out his phone again, sending a quick message with the meeting details: the time, the place. It’s an upscale restaurant, neutral ground. He doesn’t need to lure Jonathan into a dark alley. No, Max is going to do this the right way — through the law. And if the law isn’t enough, he has other means at his disposal.
He glances at the clock. It’s late, but he knows sleep won’t come tonight. Not with everything spinning in his head.
Max looks out at the city again, the skyline glittering like a sea of possibilities. Tomorrow, Jonathan Harper will realize just how outmatched he is. And by the time Max is done, he’ll make sure you’re safe. Completely safe.
And Jonathan Harper? He won’t have a damn thing left.
***
The restaurant is quiet, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clinking of silverware against plates. You sit next to Max at a polished wooden table in a private room, tucked away from the rest of the patrons. It’s fancy — more than you’re used to — but everything feels off. Like you don’t belong here. You’ve been fidgeting with your hands for the past half hour, unable to sit still, as the minutes tick by.
Jonathan isn’t here yet.
His lawyer arrived on time, a sharp-looking man in a suit so clean it practically sparkles, sitting across from you and Max. He’s polite, overly so, but you can tell there’s no kindness behind his carefully measured smiles. The way he eyes you — it’s like you’re something beneath him, something he’s already decided isn’t worth much.
But it’s not the lawyer that’s making your stomach twist into knots. It’s Jonathan.
The lawyer checks his watch again, sighing lightly as if to signal his own annoyance. “I apologize for Jonathan’s delay. He’s … a busy man.”
Max doesn’t even glance at the lawyer. He’s been staring at the door for the last forty-five minutes, jaw clenched so tightly you think he might crack a tooth. His hand rests on the table in front of him, fingers drumming a slow, tense rhythm against the wood. Every second that passes, you can feel his anger growing — radiating off him like a storm about to break.
“It’s been forty-five minutes,” Max mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. “He thinks he can just waltz in whenever he wants.”
The lawyer opens his mouth, but Max cuts him off without even turning his head. “He’s late. That’s disrespectful. To me. To her.” His voice is low, controlled, but the edge is unmistakable.
You lower your eyes to your lap, where your fingers twist nervously in the fabric of your dress. You hadn’t wanted to come to this meeting in the first place. Being here, waiting for Jonathan — it feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing you’re about to fall. The anxiety is suffocating.
“Hey,” Max’s voice softens, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up, meeting his gaze. “You’re doing fine. He’s the one who should be nervous.”
You try to smile, but it’s weak, and Max sees through it immediately. His expression hardens, but not at you — at the situation. At Jonathan.
“I won’t let him do anything,” Max adds, his voice steady. “You’re safe.”
You nod, though the tension in your chest doesn’t ease. You’re not afraid of Jonathan in the same way you used to be. Not exactly. It’s more the dread — the weight of knowing he’s going to walk in and say things that’ll hurt, that’ll drag you back down into the hell you’ve fought so hard to escape.
The door opens then, and you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. For a second, you think it’s Jonathan, but it’s just the server, bringing water to the table. Max watches you carefully, his eyes sharp, protective. You can feel him tense beside you, every muscle in his body on edge.
“Where the hell is he?” Max mutters under his breath, his patience clearly running thin. He checks his watch again, his hand tightening into a fist on the table.
The lawyer clears his throat, an attempt to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “Jonathan has a lot on his plate. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Max shoots him a look, the kind that silences any further excuses. “He’s almost an hour late. If he wanted to show any respect for this process — for her — he would’ve been here on time.”
You glance at the door again, half hoping Jonathan won’t show. That maybe he’ll just stay gone, and you can pretend for a little while longer that this is all over. But you know better than that. Jonathan always shows up, eventually.
And he does.
Nearly an hour after the scheduled meeting time, the door swings open, and there he is — Jonathan Harper, in all his smug, arrogant glory. He strolls in like he owns the place, not even glancing at you as he makes his way to the table. No apology, no acknowledgment of how late he is. Nothing. Just that same cold indifference you’ve seen so many times before.
You shrink back instinctively, your heart pounding, your hands twisting tighter in your lap.
“Well, well,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping with mockery as he pulls out the chair across from you. He doesn’t sit right away. Instead, he stands there, looking down at you with that familiar sneer. “I see you finally found yourself a babysitter, huh?”
You flinch, the words hitting you like a slap. You can feel Max’s anger beside you, simmering just below the surface.
Jonathan sits down, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “I have to say, I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you to hire a lawyer. But then again, you’ve always needed someone to take care of you, haven’t you?”
The air in the room grows thick with tension, Max’s silence growing heavier by the second. His fists clench on the table, knuckles white, but he doesn’t move — yet.
Jonathan doesn’t even look at Max. He’s too busy reveling in his own cruelty. “I mean, come on. You couldn’t even manage to keep the house clean, let alone figure out how to divorce me. It’s cute, really. This whole act. Like you think you’re suddenly strong enough to stand up to me.”
Your chest tightens, shame flooding you, and you can’t bring yourself to meet Jonathan’s eyes. He’s always known how to hit where it hurts most.
Max’s voice cuts through the air, low and dangerous. “That’s enough.”
Jonathan’s eyes flick to Max for the first time, his smirk widening. “Oh, this must be the lawyer. What’s your angle, huh? You think you’re gonna play hero and save her from the big bad husband?”
Max leans forward, his voice cold. “I said that’s enough.”
Jonathan just laughs, leaning back in his chair, completely unfazed. “You’re not scaring anyone, buddy. You think I care about your little threats? I’ve got more money and more power than you can even imagine. And her? She’s nothing. She’s been nothing for years. You’re wasting your time.”
Before you can even process what’s happening, Max stands, his chair scraping back with a loud screech. His hands slam onto the table with a force that makes the glasses shake, his body leaning over the table, looming over Jonathan.
The sudden movement sends a jolt through you, and you glance up at Max, heart pounding. His face is inches from Jonathan’s, his eyes blazing with barely controlled fury.
“You’re going to shut your mouth,” Max says, his voice low, lethal. “Or I’m going to shut it for you.”
Jonathan blinks, his smirk faltering for the first time. But then, as if to mask his own fear, he laughs again, though it sounds more forced this time. “Oh, tough guy, huh? You think you’re going to intimidate me?”
Max leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sends chills down your spine. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Keep talking, and I’ll make sure you lose everything.”
Jonathan’s smile returns, but there’s something colder behind it now. “You’re bluffing. She’s got nothing. And when this is all over, neither will you.”
Max straightens, his hands still planted firmly on the table, his eyes locked onto Jonathan’s. “Meet me at noon tomorrow. Bring your lawyer. Or don’t — it won’t make a difference. But I’m telling you now, you’re done. You’ll never hurt her again.”
Jonathan sneers, pushing his chair back and standing. He adjusts his jacket, glancing at his lawyer with a bored expression. “We’ll see.”
He turns without another word, walking out of the room like he’s already won.
You sit there, frozen, your heart still racing as the door clicks shut behind him. Max stays standing for a moment, his fists still clenched, his breathing heavy. Then, slowly, he relaxes, his shoulders dropping as he exhales a long, controlled breath.
You don’t say anything at first. You don’t know what to say. Everything feels raw, exposed.
Max turns to you, his eyes softening when they meet yours. “He’s not going to win. You hear me?”
You nod, though your body still feels tense, the weight of Jonathan’s words pressing down on you.
“I promise you,” Max says, his voice quiet but firm, “he’s not going to get away with this. Not this time.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, you believe him.
***
Jonathan grips the steering wheel with one hand, his phone pressed to his ear with the other. His friend on the other end of the call is laughing at something Jonathan said, some offhand comment about how pathetic you are — how you’ve always been pathetic.
“Can you believe she actually thinks she’s gonna win?” Jonathan says, his voice dripping with disdain. “I swear to God, it’s like she’s forgotten who’s in control. I’ve got everything — everything — and she’s sitting there with nothing, thinking some low-rent lawyer’s gonna save her.”
His friend’s laughter crackles through the speaker, fueling Jonathan’s ego. He glances at the dashboard clock — he’s late, but who cares? It’s not like Max and his little damsel in distress can do a thing without him. They need him there. They’re at his mercy. And that’s how it’s always been.
“Max, though,” Jonathan continues, “that guy’s a real piece of work. Acting like he’s some knight in shining armor. Bet he’s got his own skeletons. Probably looking to get a taste of what I had.”
He laughs cruelly, switching the phone to his other ear as he maneuvers through traffic. He barely pays attention to the road. He never does. There’s an ease to his movements, like the world bends to his will, like there’s no need to care about anything or anyone. Not you, not Max, and certainly not whoever might be in his way.
“Yeah, she was always weak,” Jonathan adds. “Clingy, needy … hell, even if she manages to win, she’ll still be nothing without me. Just a broken little girl playing house.”
The friend on the other line chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying the tirade. Jonathan feeds off it, leaning into his own bitterness, his own inflated sense of superiority.
“She’s nothing without me,” he repeats, as if saying it out loud makes it more true, as if it cements his control over you. The idea that you might actually be moving on — finding freedom from him — twists inside his chest, but he shoves the thought away. No, you’ll never be free of him. He won’t let you.
Jonathan shifts in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wheel, the city blurring past as he approaches the meeting point. He’s already imagining the look on your face when he walks in, late and unapologetic, just to remind you who’s really in charge. He smiles to himself, his lips curling into a sneer.
“She's probably trembling right now,” Jonathan scoffs into the phone. “Waiting for me to show up, like a good little-”
Suddenly, something feels off.
He presses the brake pedal out of habit as the traffic ahead begins to slow — but nothing happens. His foot sinks down to the floor, the pedal soft and useless beneath his foot. Jonathan’s heart skips a beat.
He tries again. Harder this time. But still, nothing.
“Shit,” he mutters, his eyes darting to the dashboard, hands tightening around the wheel. He presses the brake repeatedly, panic beginning to creep into his chest as the car continues to speed forward.
“Hold on,” he says to his friend on the phone, his voice sharp now. “Something’s wrong with the damn car.”
The brake doesn’t respond at all. The car picks up speed as it rolls downhill, buildings flashing by in a blur of glass and steel. Jonathan’s breath quickens. He yanks the steering wheel, swerving between lanes, his tires screeching as the car narrowly misses another vehicle.
“What the hell …” Jonathan’s voice is a strained whisper now. He slams his foot on the brake again, harder, and his whole body tenses. Nothing. No response.
His friend’s voice crackles through the speaker, confused. “What’s going on?”
“The brakes …” Jonathan mutters, his voice strained. “The goddamn brakes aren’t working!”
The friend says something else, but Jonathan barely hears it. His mind races, adrenaline surging through his veins. He yanks the wheel again, veering off the main road, trying to avoid the cars ahead, but the car is moving too fast. Way too fast.
Jonathan curses under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Panic claws at his throat, but he forces it down, refusing to let fear take over.
He’s not going to crash. He can’t crash.
He’s Jonathan Harper. He doesn’t lose.
His phone slips from his hand and clatters onto the passenger seat as he struggles to regain control. The buildings are coming closer, faster. His breath comes in shallow, rapid bursts as he wrestles with the wheel, trying to steer toward an empty alleyway. But the speed, the force of the car — it’s too much.
The last thing he sees before impact is a flash of brick and glass.
The sound of the crash is deafening. Metal crumples, glass shatters, the front of the car folding like paper as it collides with the side of a building. Jonathan is thrown forward, his seatbelt jerking him back just as his head slams into the steering wheel.
Pain explodes in his skull, his vision blurring as the world spins around him. The car is still now, steam hissing from the hood, the engine making a pitiful whine before going silent.
For a moment, Jonathan doesn’t move. His ears ring, his head swimming, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. He tries to breathe, but his chest feels tight, constricted, like there’s something inside him squeezing the air out of his lungs.
Slowly, he lifts his hand to his face, touching his forehead. His fingers come away wet, sticky with blood. His own blood.
“Shit …” he groans, his voice weak, barely a whisper. He tries to move, to reach for the door, but something stops him. A sharp, searing pain in his chest. He gasps, choking on the breath, and a wave of dizziness washes over him.
The taste of blood is stronger now. It fills his mouth, thick and metallic, and when he coughs, crimson sprays across the shattered windshield.
Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.
He tries to lift his head, but it’s too heavy. His hands shake as he grips the steering wheel, trying to steady himself, but his vision is fading, the edges going dark. He coughs again, harder this time, and more blood pours from his mouth, thick and viscous, staining his shirt, pooling in his lap.
No. No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
Jonathan struggles, panic surging through him now. He can’t breathe. His chest heaves, but no air comes in, just the taste of blood and the sharp, stabbing pain that’s getting worse with every second.
He tries to call for help, but his voice is lost, buried beneath the gurgling, choking sound coming from his throat.
He’s dying.
The realization hits him like a freight train. He’s dying, right here, in the driver’s seat of his own car, choking on his own blood. And no one’s coming to help him.
His fingers slip off the wheel, falling limp at his sides as his vision narrows to a pinprick of light. He gasps, trying to suck in one last breath, but all he gets is more blood, flooding his lungs, choking him from the inside.
As the darkness closes in, Jonathan’s last thought is of you.
You, standing in that restaurant yesterday, small and afraid, but maybe — just maybe — stronger than he ever gave you credit for.
***
The clock ticks loudly in the otherwise silent room. Each minute that passes only seems to grow heavier, the tension building with every tick. You sit in the same chair you did yesterday, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, stealing glances at the door every few seconds.
Max sits across from you, his expression unreadable but his fingers drumming lightly against the table. Jonathan’s lawyer is seated at the far end, flipping through some documents with a detached boredom that doesn’t match the mounting frustration you feel swelling in the room.
It’s been almost two hours. Jonathan was late yesterday, but this … this is ridiculous.
Max finally speaks, his voice calm but edged with annoyance. “Two hours. How much longer are we supposed to wait?”
The lawyer doesn’t look up, just shrugs. “I’ve been Jonathan’s lawyer long enough to know he’s rarely on time. You’ll get used to it.”
Max’s jaw tightens. You can tell he’s fighting to keep his anger in check. “This isn't a casual lunch meeting. It’s a legal matter.”
“Legal or not,” the lawyer replies, turning a page, “Jonathan Harper moves at his own pace.”
You bite your lip, feeling the weight of their words hang in the air. You want to speak up, to suggest maybe you should leave and try again another day, but your voice feels trapped. Instead, you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap, trying to ignore the gnawing pit in your stomach.
Max glances over at you, his expression softening for just a moment. He sees how tense you are, how uncomfortable you’ve been this entire time. He leans back in his chair, looking like he’s ready to explode but holding it together, probably for your sake.
“He’s deliberately wasting our time,” Max mutters, almost to himself, though the frustration is clear in his voice. His eyes flick back to the door, then back to you. “We’ll give him five more minutes. If he’s not here by then, we leave.”
You nod, grateful for the out, but before you can say anything, your phone buzzes on the table. The sound is jarring in the quiet room. For a moment, you freeze, staring at the screen as an unfamiliar number flashes across it.
Max’s eyes are on you immediately. “You gonna get that?”
You hesitate, but something tells you to answer. You slide the phone off the table and hold it to your ear. “Hello?”
“Is this Mrs. Harper?” A woman’s voice, calm but urgent, crackles through the line.
Your heart skips a beat. You feel Max and Jonathan’s lawyer watching you, but their gazes blur as a cold shiver runs down your spine.
“Yes, this is she,” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper.
“This is Mercy General Hospital. I’m afraid I have some difficult news. Your husband, Jonathan Harper, was brought in around an hour and a half ago after a car accident.” The voice on the other end pauses as if giving you space to process.
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Car accident? Your mind races, trying to make sense of what she’s saying.
“An accident?” You repeat, your voice shaking.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman continues, her tone softening, “but unfortunately, he didn’t make it. He passed away on the ambulance ride over.”
The phone slips from your fingers. You don’t even feel it hit the floor. Everything around you blurs, the room spinning out of focus as your body goes cold. For a second, all you hear is the ringing in your ears, drowning out everything else.
Max is out of his chair in an instant. He’s at your side before you even realize what’s happening, his arms wrapping around you just as your knees give out. You’re not crying. You’re just … empty. Hollow. The world feels like it’s closing in, suffocating, but Max is holding you up, his voice low in your ear.
“Hey, hey — easy. I’ve got you.” His words are steady, but you can hear the concern threaded through them. He lowers you into the chair gently, keeping his hands on your shoulders to steady you.
You blink, trying to make sense of it. Jonathan is dead? He’s … gone?
Max crouches in front of you, his face level with yours now, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re still there, still processing. “What happened? What did they say?”
Your lips move, but no sound comes out at first. You have to swallow, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “Jonathan … he’s dead. There was an accident.”
Max’s expression doesn’t change. He stays perfectly still, but you see something flicker in his eyes, something unreadable. He’s quiet for a moment, then he glances at the phone lying on the floor before looking back at you. “When did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice shaky. “They said … they said he didn’t make it to the hospital. It happened over an hour ago.”
The lawyer finally looks up from his papers, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Jonathan’s … dead?”
Max straightens, his hand still resting on your shoulder as he turns toward the other man, his voice suddenly all business. “Yes, it seems there’s been an accident. He didn’t survive.”
Jonathan’s lawyer stands slowly, his face pale. He opens his mouth, then closes it, as if the gravity of the situation is just sinking in. “I … I’ll need to contact his estate. This complicates things.”
Max ignores him. He’s still focused on you, his thumb brushing lightly over your shoulder, grounding you, keeping you tethered as your world spins out of control.
You feel numb. The words echo in your mind: Jonathan is dead. Jonathan is dead. But you don’t know what to feel. Relief? Guilt? Fear?
Max crouches back down, his eyes never leaving yours. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice low and gentle but firm. “You’re safe now. Do you hear me? He can’t hurt you anymore.”
You nod, though the words feel distant, like they’re meant for someone else. You’re still struggling to catch up with the reality of what’s happened.
“I need you to breathe, okay?” Max continues, his hands still steady on your arms. “In and out. Nice and slow.”
You do as he says, inhaling shakily, then exhaling, trying to pull yourself back to the present, to this room, to the fact that you’re still here, even if Jonathan isn’t.
Max watches you closely, waiting until you’ve steadied yourself before speaking again. “We’ll go to the hospital. We’ll take care of everything. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m right here.”
His words are solid, something to hold onto as the world tilts around you. You don’t know how long you sit there, just breathing, letting the weight of everything settle. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours.
Eventually, you nod again. “Okay.”
Max stands and helps you to your feet, his hand steady at your back as you move toward the door. He picks up your phone from the floor, handing it to you without a word. You take it, but your fingers tremble so much that you can barely grip it.
As you walk toward the exit, Max’s presence is a constant comfort beside you. You glance at him, and for a fleeting moment, you see something in his eyes — something deeper than concern, something more intense. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the calm, steady confidence that he always exudes.
You don’t know what’s waiting for you at the hospital. You don’t know how you’re supposed to feel about Jonathan’s death, or what it means for your future.
But for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe — just maybe — you’re going to be okay.
And that’s when you realize: you’re not alone anymore. Max is here. And for reasons you don’t fully understand, that thought makes all the difference.
***
The car hums beneath you, the soft rumble of the engine the only sound breaking the silence between you and Max. The city lights blur past the window, smudged streaks of white and yellow against the inky night sky. You barely notice the streets you're passing, barely hear the distant honk of horns or the murmur of the radio playing low in the background. Everything feels distant, like you’re watching your own life from somewhere outside of your body.
Max sits beside you, one hand gripping the steering wheel with calm certainty. His posture is relaxed, almost too relaxed for what’s just happened. You steal a glance at him, trying to read his expression. His face is as calm as ever, his jaw set, eyes focused on the road ahead.
But then you catch it — a flash of something. A fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk. It’s there for just a second, curling at the corner of his mouth before vanishing like it was never there. But you saw it.
And in that moment, something clicks.
You sit up straighter, your heart thudding in your chest as a realization settles over you like a heavy weight.
He knows.
He’s known for a while.
You blink, turning to face him fully now, your pulse quickening. “Max.”
He glances at you, his expression still steady, but something in his eyes shifts. “What is it?”
You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. It takes everything in you to push them out. “Did … did you have something to do with Jonathan’s accident?”
There’s a beat of silence. Max doesn’t answer right away. He keeps his gaze on the road, his hand steady on the wheel, his fingers drumming lightly against the leather. But you can feel the air change between you, thickening with something unsaid.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and calm. “What makes you ask that?”
Your chest tightens. You can’t look away from him now, the truth pulling at you like gravity. “I saw your face. That little smile. You’re not … you’re not surprised that he’s dead, are you?”
Max doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t rush to deny it. He just sighs, like he’s been waiting for this conversation, like he knew you’d figure it out eventually. His grip on the wheel tightens for just a moment before he lets go of a breath.
“No,” he says simply, his voice calm but firm. “I’m not surprised.”
Your heart skips a beat. The air in the car feels suddenly heavier, pressing down on your chest. You wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. He lets the silence hang there, the weight of his words sinking in.
“Max,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “Did you … did you kill him?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightens, and he glances at you briefly, as if gauging your reaction. And then, after a long pause, he says it.
“Yes.”
The word hits you like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of you. Your hands clench in your lap, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to process what you’re feeling. Shock? Fear? Relief?
“Why?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, your throat tight. “Why would you …”
Max keeps his eyes on the road, his voice low but steady. “Because he hurt you. Because he would have kept hurting you if I hadn’t done something.”
You stare at him, your mind racing, your pulse pounding in your ears. There’s no remorse in his voice, no hesitation. He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like killing Jonathan was just another necessary task, something he had to cross off a list.
“You didn’t have to …” you start, but the words die in your throat. Because part of you knows he’s right. Jonathan would have kept hurting you. And no one else was going to stop him.
Max glances at you again, this time his expression softening, though there’s still a cold edge to his eyes. “He didn’t deserve to live after what he did to you. I wasn’t going to let him walk away from that. Not after everything.”
There’s something dark in his voice, something you’ve never heard before. It sends a chill down your spine, but at the same time, you feel a strange sense of comfort in it. Max did this for you. He killed Jonathan because he thought it was the only way to protect you.
You swallow hard, your mind reeling. You should feel horrified, you should be angry or scared or disgusted. But you’re not. You’re not any of those things. Instead, you feel something else entirely — a strange, overwhelming sense of … relief.
Jonathan is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. And Max … Max made sure of that.
You take a shaky breath, the tension in your chest slowly easing. “You killed him for me,” you say, your voice soft but steady.
Max nods, his eyes still fixed on the road. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
His words hang in the air, and for a long moment, you don’t say anything. You let them settle, let them sink into your bones. He’s not ashamed. He’s not regretful. And somehow, that makes it easier to accept.
Finally, you exhale, the weight of everything lifting off your shoulders. “Thank you.”
Max glances at you, clearly surprised by your words. His brows furrow slightly, and for the first time since the conversation started, he seems uncertain. “For what?”
“For protecting me,” you say, your voice firmer now, more certain. “For doing what no one else would have.”
Max’s expression softens again, and he lets out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he was holding. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand moves from the steering wheel, reaching across the small space between you. His fingers brush against yours, and then he gently takes your hand in his, squeezing it softly.
You look down at your intertwined fingers, the warmth of his hand grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. You squeeze back, letting him know that you’re okay. That you understand.
The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable anymore. It’s calm. Steady.
You lean back in your seat, your gaze shifting back to the city lights outside the window. Jonathan is dead. The nightmare is over. And somehow, despite everything, you feel like you’re finally free.
Max’s thumb rubs lightly over the back of your hand, and you turn to look at him again. His face is still calm, but there’s something softer in his eyes now, something almost tender.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
You feel your chest tighten at his words, but not in the way it did before. This time, it’s different. This time, it feels like something is shifting between you, something you hadn’t noticed before but now feels impossible to ignore.
You don’t say anything. You just sit there, holding his hand, feeling the steady pulse of the city outside the car, and the steady pulse of Max beside you.
***
The hospital parking lot is almost empty, the few scattered cars gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. You and Max sit in silence, the weight of what’s just happened hanging heavy in the air. The hum of the engine dies as Max turns the key, and for a moment, neither of you moves. You stare at the hospital entrance, your heart pounding, your palms damp with nervous sweat.
It hits you — this is really happening. Jonathan is dead, and now you’re supposed to walk in there and pretend to be devastated. To mourn him, to cry for him.
Max shifts in his seat, turning toward you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He’s been calm the whole drive, unshaken, and now he leans forward, eyes locked on yours, his voice low and measured.
“Listen,” he says, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is light, but his tone is firm. “When we walk in there, you need to act the part. They’re going to expect tears, shock — grief.”
You swallow hard, the idea of playing the grieving widow making your stomach turn. “I don’t know if I can do this, Max.”
His hand lingers near your face, fingers ghosting against your cheek. “Yes, you can,” he says, his voice softening. “You’re stronger than you think. Just focus on what you need to do. No one can know that you’re relieved. You loved him, remember?”
A bitter laugh escapes you, but it dies quickly in the back of your throat. The irony isn’t lost on you, pretending to be a devoted wife to the man who tormented you. But Max is right. No one can know.
You nod, taking a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I can do it. I’ll … I’ll cry if I have to.”
Max’s hand moves from your face to your hand, squeezing gently. “Good. And don’t worry about the rest. I’ll handle any questions, any details. Just play your part.”
You bite your lip, nodding again, your heart still racing but your mind clearing. You’ve played so many roles before — dutiful wife, obedient woman, silent sufferer. This is just another role to get through. Just another mask to wear.
Max releases your hand and pushes open the car door. “Ready?”
No, you think. You’re not ready. But you don’t have a choice. You force a smile, though it feels like it might crack your face. “Ready.”
The two of you walk toward the entrance, the automatic doors whooshing open to the sterile, cold smell of disinfectant and hospital walls. Your breath quickens as you step inside, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a tidal wave. Nurses bustle past, clipboards in hand, murmuring to one another, while the soft beep of machines hums in the background.
You feel exposed, like every person here can see straight through you, can see that the grief you’re about to display isn’t real.
Max leads you to the front desk, his hand resting lightly on your back in a gesture of support. He leans in toward the nurse on duty, his voice low and authoritative.
“We’re here to see Jonathan Harper,” he says. “He’s my … sister’s husband. We got a call.”
The nurse looks up, her expression softening with sympathy as she glances at you. “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says gently. “If you’ll just have a seat, I’ll call someone to come speak with you.”
You nod, not trusting your voice just yet. Instead, you let Max guide you to the waiting area, where you sit down in one of the stiff plastic chairs. Your hands are shaking, so you fold them in your lap, gripping your fingers tightly together.
Max sits beside you, his hand resting on your knee for just a moment, grounding you. His presence is reassuring, a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.
“Remember,” he says under his breath, leaning close enough that only you can hear. “You loved him. Show them that.”
You nod again, taking a shaky breath. You focus on your hands, on the feel of the cold plastic chair beneath you. You need to let the reality of the situation sink in — Jonathan is dead. He’s really gone. The man who hurt you is gone.
And you’re supposed to be devastated.
The thought makes your stomach churn, but you force yourself to push it aside. This isn’t about what you feel. This is about survival. About making sure no one suspects the truth.
A few minutes pass before a doctor approaches, a man in his mid-forties with graying hair and kind eyes. He kneels in front of you, his expression full of the kind of sympathy you don’t deserve.
“Mrs. Harper,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, but … your husband didn’t make it.”
And just like that, you snap into character.
Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes widening as the weight of the words hits you. “No,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “No, that can’t be … there must be some mistake.”
The doctor shakes his head gently, placing a hand on your arm. “I’m afraid there’s no mistake. We did everything we could, but the injuries were just too severe.”
You feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall. You’ve always been good at crying on cue. It’s something Jonathan hated about you, your ability to turn on the waterworks whenever you needed to. But now, it’s a weapon, a tool to make everyone believe the lie.
You cover your mouth with your hand, your body shaking with sobs that come more naturally than you expected. It’s almost too easy to cry for the life you lost, for the years of pain, for the woman you used to be before Jonathan destroyed her.
“I don’t understand,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “How … how did this happen?”
The doctor sighs, his face etched with regret. “It was a car accident. The paramedics did everything they could, but he passed away before he reached the hospital.”
You let out a soft, broken cry, your shoulders trembling as the grief pours out of you. You don’t have to fake that part. The relief feels like grief in a way, like a release of something you’ve been holding onto for far too long.
Max leans in, his hand on your back again, his voice low and soothing. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The doctor stands, giving you a moment to compose yourself. “We’ll need you to come with us to identify the body, Mrs. Harper,” he says gently.
You nod, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks. “I … I can do that.”
The doctor gives you a small, understanding nod and turns to lead the way down the sterile white corridor. Max stays close by your side, his hand never leaving your back. As you walk, you focus on your breathing, on keeping the tears flowing just enough to sell the part.
You feel Max lean in slightly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re doing great. Just a little longer.”
You nod, sniffling as you walk, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You’re not just playing the part of a grieving widow — you’re erasing the evidence, erasing the truth. You’re erasing Jonathan Harper from your life, once and for all.
When you reach the morgue, the doctor stops in front of a pair of heavy metal doors. He pauses, turning to you with that same sympathetic expression. “Are you ready?”
No. You’re not ready. You’ll never be ready for this. But you nod anyway, because what else can you do?
Max squeezes your shoulder, his voice low and steady. “You’ve got this.”
The doctor opens the door, and the cold air hits you like a wave. The room is dimly lit, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly as the doctor leads you toward a covered body on a steel table. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, your pulse loud in your ears as you take each step.
This is it. The final act.
The doctor gently pulls back the sheet, revealing Jonathan’s pale, lifeless face. His features are slack, his skin bruised and bloodied from the accident. For a moment, you can’t breathe. The sight of him — so still, so powerless — it’s like seeing a ghost. The man who held so much control over your life now lies broken in front of you.
You force a sob, your hand flying to your mouth as you step back, tears streaming down your face. “Oh God … Jonathan …”
The doctor watches you, his eyes full of pity, but he says nothing. He doesn’t need to. You’ve done your job. You’ve played your part.
Max steps in, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close as you turn away from the body. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get out of here.”
You nod, still crying, still playing the part.
***
The car ride back is heavy with silence, the hum of the engine filling the void between you and Max. You stare out the window, watching the city blur by in shades of gray, your mind still reeling from the night’s events. Jonathan is dead. The words feel surreal in your head, like a distant truth you’re not quite ready to touch.
Max drives with one hand on the steering wheel, his other resting on his lap, fingers tapping lightly as though he’s thinking. His face is calm, focused, but there’s something different in the air now — an ease in his posture that wasn’t there before. He’s done what he set out to do. Jonathan is gone, and now it’s just a matter of cleaning up the aftermath.
After what feels like an eternity, Max breaks the silence, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of something darker. “I had someone look into Jonathan’s will.”
Your gaze snaps to him, your heart skipping a beat. The words rattle in your brain, bringing with them a new layer of uncertainty. “What do you mean?”
Max glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the dashboard. “Jonathan never updated it. He didn’t add you.”
The breath you’ve been holding releases in a sharp exhale, anxiety knotting in your stomach. Of course he didn’t. Of course, even in death, Jonathan would find a way to hurt you. You sink back into the seat, your head leaning against the cold window. “So … what does that mean? I don’t get anything?”
Max is quiet for a moment, but then his lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Not quite. The legal system will treat it like a case of forgetfulness. You were married, and he didn’t update his will, so you’ll still be the main beneficiary. It’s a loophole.”
You frown, trying to process his words. “Are you sure?”
He chuckles softly, his voice dripping with confidence. “I’m a lawyer, remember? Trust me. It won’t be a problem.”
You stare at him, your mind buzzing. Max always seems to have the answers, always one step ahead of everyone else. You’ve barely had time to think about what Jonathan’s death means for you — financially, legally, emotionally — but Max has already covered all the bases.
“It feels wrong,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Like … taking his money after everything.”
Max raises an eyebrow, glancing at you with a look of mild amusement. “After everything he put you through, I’d say it’s more than fair. You deserve every cent.”
The bitterness in his tone is palpable, and for a moment, you see flashes of the man who took control of the situation with such ease. He doesn’t just see this as a legal matter, there’s something personal about it for him. Something about Jonathan’s abuse struck a nerve, and you realize again just how far Max is willing to go to protect you.
“But what if people start asking questions?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anyone to think I-”
“Stop.” Max’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, firm but not harsh. He reaches over, placing his hand on yours. The warmth of his touch calms you, steadying the racing thoughts in your mind. “No one is going to question anything. You were his wife. You’re entitled to everything. No one’s going to think twice.”
You stare at your intertwined hands, the weight of his assurance sinking in. Max always seems so certain, so sure of himself. He makes everything sound simple, even when it’s not. Even when you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall.
“I don’t know,” you murmur. “It just feels so … complicated.”
Max squeezes your hand, his voice softening. “I know it does. But I’ll make sure it’s not. You won’t have to worry about any of this.”
His words are like a balm to your nerves, but there’s still a flicker of doubt gnawing at you. You’ve been living under Jonathan’s thumb for so long, every part of your life controlled by him, that the idea of having any freedom — especially financial freedom — feels foreign. You’re not used to having power, and the thought of inheriting everything Jonathan left behind feels like stepping into unfamiliar territory.
“What did he leave behind?” You ask after a moment, your voice quiet.
Max’s eyes flicker with something — an unreadable emotion — but his tone stays steady. “More than enough to ensure you’re taken care of. He wasn’t exactly a modest man.”
You nod, biting your lip as your mind runs through the possibilities. Jonathan was always secretive about his finances, never letting you see the full picture. But you knew he had money — more than enough to maintain the lavish lifestyle he forced you into, the one that felt like a cage. Now, that money is yours, and the thought leaves a strange taste in your mouth.
“I don’t want it to feel like … blood money,” you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
Max’s grip tightens on your hand, his voice firm. “It’s not blood money. It’s justice. He took so much from you. Now, it’s time you take something back.”
You look at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but there’s none. Max’s conviction is unwavering, his belief in what he’s done — and what he’s doing — absolute. It’s both comforting and unsettling, this realization that Max sees the world in such clear-cut terms. Right and wrong. Justice and vengeance.
And somehow, you’ve fallen right into the center of it all.
As the city lights flicker by, you let out a soft sigh, resting your head against the seat. “I don’t know what to do with it all. The money. The house. Everything.”
Max’s eyes soften, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to decide right now. One step at a time. The most important thing is that you’re free.”
The word ‘free’ hangs in the air, and for a moment, it feels like a foreign concept. You’ve spent so long living in fear, tiptoeing around Jonathan’s moods, that the idea of being free — truly free — seems almost impossible.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice small. “I’ve never been on my own before.”
Max is silent for a moment, then he reaches over, brushing a thumb across your knuckles. “You’re not on your own. You have me. You have Victoria.”
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. The truth is, you don’t feel alone. Not with Max sitting beside you, guiding you through every step of this mess. But the idea of relying on someone else again — especially after everything with Jonathan — it makes your stomach twist with uncertainty.
“Thank you,” you whisper, glancing at him from beneath your lashes. “For everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
Max’s lips curl into a soft smile, but there’s something deeper in his eyes — something you can’t quite place. “You don’t have to repay me. You’ve been through enough. Let me take care of this.”
The car slows as you approach Victoria’s house, the familiar sight of her front porch coming into view. Your heart clenches as you realize that this — this strange, messy situation — is your new reality. Jonathan is gone, and with him, the life you once knew.
Max pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine, the silence between you thick and charged. For a moment, neither of you moves. Then Max turns to you, his expression softer than before, his eyes searching yours.
“You’re going to be okay,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I promise.”
You nod, though you’re not entirely sure you believe it yet. But there’s something about the way Max says it — something about the certainty in his voice — that makes you want to believe.
As you reach for the door handle, Max’s hand brushes yours, stopping you for a moment. “And if you ever need anything — anything at all — you come to me. Understand?”
You look into his eyes, feeling a strange warmth spread through your chest. “I understand.”
With a final squeeze of your hand, Max lets you go, and you step out of the car, the cool night air hitting your skin. You walk up to Victoria’s front door, the weight of everything pressing down on you. But as you turn back to see Max watching you from the driver’s seat, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.
For the first time in a long time, you’re free. And maybe, just maybe, you’re strong enough to figure out what that means.
***
The restaurant is one of those upscale places with white tablecloths and a quiet hum of conversation, the kind of place that feels almost too polished for the three of you to have anything resembling a casual lunch. You sit across from Max, watching him, trying to get a read on him the way you’ve been doing ever since everything happened. It’s hard to tell with Max. He always seems so composed, like everything is part of a plan that only he knows.
Victoria, sitting next to you, has been doing most of the talking, catching Max up on the little things that have been going on — her job, mutual friends, things that feel oddly normal considering how not normal your life has been lately. You pick at your salad, your appetite still shaky after everything that’s happened.
“So,” Victoria says, after taking a sip of her wine. “What’s the plan with the house?”
The question catches you off guard, though you’ve been thinking about it non-stop. Jonathan’s house. The house you lived in with him. The house that still feels like it’s haunted by his presence, his cruelty, the fights that rattled through its walls. You look down at your plate, avoiding Max’s eyes.
“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I can’t … I can’t stay there.”
Victoria reaches over, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Of course not. You shouldn’t even have to think about it. You’re still welcome to stay with me as long as you need. My home is always open for you.”
You glance up at her, gratitude warming your chest. Victoria has been nothing but supportive through all of this, offering you a safe place to land when everything felt like it was crumbling. But even though you’ve appreciated every second of her kindness, the truth is … you feel like a burden.
“I don’t want to impose,” you say softly. “I’ve already stayed longer than I should have.”
Victoria waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not imposing at all.”
“I don’t know,” you continue, fidgeting with the napkin in your lap. “I just … I feel bad. It’s your space. I don’t want to be in your way.”
Before Victoria can respond, Max clears his throat, drawing both of your attention to him. He’s been quiet for most of the lunch, observing, listening. Now, he sets his fork down, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
“You could move in with me,” he says, so casually that it takes a moment for his words to register.
Your head snaps toward him, eyes widening in disbelief. “What?”
Even Victoria looks taken aback, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Wait — what?”
Max shrugs, his expression calm, as if he hasn’t just dropped a bombshell on the table. “I’ve got plenty of space. The penthouse is way too big for just me anyway.”
Your brain scrambles to catch up with what he’s saying. Move in with him? Into his penthouse? You’re not sure how to respond, your mind immediately filling with reasons why that’s a bad idea.
“Max, I-I can’t just move in with you,” you stammer, feeling your cheeks heat up. “That’s … I mean, it’s your home. I don’t want to-”
“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Max cuts in smoothly, as if he’s already anticipated every one of your protests. “Like I said, it’s way too big for one person. You’d actually be doing me a favor.”
Victoria blinks, looking between the two of you, her surprise turning into a curious smirk. “I mean, it’s not the worst idea,” she says, clearly enjoying how flustered you’ve become. “Max does have that ridiculous apartment. It’s like living in a luxury hotel.”
You shake your head, still trying to wrap your mind around the suggestion. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone again, especially not after …”
Your voice trails off, but Max knows exactly what you’re thinking. He leans forward slightly, his gaze intent. “You wouldn’t be dependent on me. This isn’t about control, it’s about giving you a safe space to figure things out.”
His words hang in the air, their weight settling over you. Max always knows how to say the right thing, how to make it sound like everything is under control. And maybe it is, in his world. But in your world, everything still feels like it’s teetering on the edge of chaos.
“I don’t know …” you murmur, your fingers twisting the napkin in your lap.
Max reaches across the table, his hand resting on top of yours. His touch is firm, grounding. “I’m not asking you to decide right now. Just think about it. You don’t have to figure everything out at once.”
You glance at Victoria, hoping she’ll have some kind of advice, but she just grins, leaning back in her chair as if she’s thoroughly entertained by the entire conversation. “Honestly? I think it’s a good idea. You’d have more space to yourself, and you wouldn’t feel like you’re cramping my style.”
“I don’t feel like I’m cramping your style,” you mutter, giving her a playful glare.
She laughs, but there’s a softness in her eyes as she looks at you. “Look, you’ve been through hell, and I think the last thing you need right now is to worry about where you’re staying. Max is offering you a chance to take some of that stress off your plate. You should take it.”
You swallow hard, your gaze flicking back to Max. He’s watching you intently, waiting for your response. And while every instinct in you is screaming to refuse — to keep your independence, to not get too close — the truth is, you’re tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being afraid, tired of not knowing what’s going to happen next.
Max’s offer feels like a lifeline, and as much as you hate to admit it … you need one.
“I’ll think about it,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
Max nods, his expression softening. “That’s all I’m asking.”
The conversation shifts after that, Victoria taking over with a story about a disastrous date she had earlier in the week, but your mind stays stuck on Max’s offer. Move in with him? The idea feels foreign, like stepping into a life that’s not your own. But then again, everything about your life has felt foreign since Jonathan died.
Later, as the three of you finish your meals and the waiter clears the plates, Victoria leans over and whispers in your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “You should say yes.”
You glance at her, your eyes widening. “To what?”
“To moving in with Max,” she says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I mean, come on. A penthouse? You’d be living the dream.”
You roll your eyes, though her words stir something in your chest. “It’s not about the penthouse.”
“Right,” she says with a knowing smirk. “It’s about Max.”
Your face heats up, and you quickly look away, hoping she doesn’t notice the flush creeping up your neck. But of course, Victoria notices everything.
“You like him, don’t you?” She teases, nudging you with her elbow.
You shoot her a glare, though it’s more out of embarrassment than anger. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing you for a second. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know.”
You groan, leaning your head back against the chair. “Can we not do this right now?”
Victoria laughs, but she doesn’t push it further. Instead, she just gives you a soft smile, the kind that says she knows exactly what’s going on, even if you’re not ready to admit it to yourself.
By the time lunch is over and the three of you are standing outside the restaurant, the sun warm on your skin, you still haven’t made up your mind. Max’s offer feels too good to be true, like stepping into a different world, a world where you don’t have to be afraid anymore.
But as Max pulls you into a quick hug, his strong arms wrapping around you for just a second too long, you start to wonder if maybe … maybe it’s not too good to be true.
Maybe it’s exactly what you need.
***
The late afternoon sun casts golden light over the city as you stand at the entrance of Max’s penthouse building, staring up at the sleek, glass structure. It still feels surreal. A part of you wonders how you got here — how your life has shifted so quickly from the nightmare of Jonathan to this strange, uncertain new chapter.
Max stands beside you, keys in hand, effortlessly calm like always. He glances over, his dark eyes warm. “Ready?”
You nod, gripping the handle of the box you're holding a little tighter, though your nerves buzz underneath your skin. “Yeah. Ready.”
The moving truck is parked a few feet away, filled with your belongings. You don’t have much, just some clothes, books, a few personal items, and the memories that you’ve tried to leave behind. Victoria offered to help today, but Max insisted that he could handle it. You’re still not sure how you feel about that — about Max doing so much for you — but you’ve stopped protesting. Every time you try, he brushes it off like it’s nothing.
Max leads you into the lobby, the doorman greeting him by name. You follow him into the elevator, clutching the box to your chest. The ride up is silent, save for the low hum of the elevator. When the doors open, Max steps out first, turning back to give you a reassuring smile.
“Let's get these up to the apartment,” he says, his voice steady, like moving you in is just another ordinary task for him.
You step out of the elevator and into his penthouse. The doors open into a sprawling, open-plan living room, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city. The space is sleek, modern, but somehow still comfortable — just like Max himself.
He sets his box down and glances over at you. “We can start setting things in your room if you'd like. The spare bedroom is down the hall.”
You try to hide the way your breath catches in your throat as you nod. “Sure. Thanks.”
As you begin moving boxes from the truck to the penthouse, you find yourself increasingly distracted by Max. Every time he bends to lift a box, his muscles strain against the fabric of his shirt, the sinewy strength in his arms drawing your attention. His movements are fluid, effortless, as though this is nothing for him.
And it's not just that he’s strong — it's the ease with which he carries himself. There’s no posturing, no arrogance. He’s doing this because he wants to help, because he sees you struggling and wants to make things easier.
You try not to stare, but it’s impossible not to notice the way his shirt stretches tight across his broad shoulders or the way his biceps flex when he lifts heavier boxes with one hand, like they weigh nothing at all. He catches you glancing once or twice, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.
After a couple of trips back and forth from the truck, you’re standing in the living room, trying to decide where to start unpacking. Max steps beside you, brushing a bit of dust from his jeans, and glances around the space.
“Where do you want this stuff?” He asks, motioning to the remaining boxes.
“I guess I’ll start with the bedroom.” You bite your lip, glancing toward the hallway. “It’s not a lot, really. I don’t want to take up too much space.”
Max shakes his head. “You’re not taking up space. Like I said, this place is too big for one person. Besides,” his voice softens, “you deserve to feel comfortable. Make it yours.”
Something about the way he says that, like he genuinely cares, makes your heart skip a beat. You nod, feeling your throat tighten as you head down the hall with him. The spare bedroom is just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows and more space than you’ve ever had in any room you’ve lived in.
Max sets the box down near the door, watching as you take in the room. “What do you think?”
“I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, shaking your head. “It’s … beautiful. It’s too much, Max.”
He steps closer, his presence warm and solid next to you. “It’s not too much. It’s exactly what you need. And besides, I want you here.”
You swallow, trying to process the weight of his words. He wants you here. Max has always been protective of you, ever since you met him through Victoria, but this is something else. It’s not just protection — it’s … something more. Something you can’t quite put your finger on yet.
As the day wears on and more boxes make their way into the penthouse, you start unpacking, trying to make sense of this new chapter. Max works alongside you, quietly helping without ever making you feel like you owe him anything. Every time you glance over at him, he’s there, steady and calm, grounding you in a way you never expected.
After a while, Max heads back to the truck to grab the last few items, leaving you in the apartment alone. You take a moment to breathe, running your fingers over the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. It still doesn’t feel real, being here, surrounded by luxury and safety. You’ve spent so long being afraid, walking on eggshells around Jonathan, that this feels almost … too easy. Too good.
Max’s voice calls out from the hallway as he returns, carrying the final box. “That’s the last of it.”
You nod, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you, Max. For everything.”
He sets the box down with a quiet thud, then turns to face you, his dark eyes steady. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do, though.” You cross your arms, feeling a mixture of gratitude and something else — something heavier. “I don’t even know how to start repaying you for all of this.”
Max steps closer, the air between you shifting, heavy with unspoken tension. He tilts his head slightly, a faint smirk on his lips, though his eyes are serious. “I’m not doing this because I expect anything in return.”
“I know,” you whisper, looking up at him. “But still.”
He reaches out, brushing his thumb across your cheek in a gesture so gentle it makes your chest ache. “You’ve been through enough, okay? You don’t owe me anything. All I want is for you to feel safe.”
The warmth of his touch lingers even after he pulls his hand away. You nod, though your throat feels tight, overwhelmed by the way he looks at you, like he actually means it. Like he’s the one person in your life who doesn’t expect you to give something back.
The two of you stand there for a moment, the weight of everything that’s happened settling between you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you realize that maybe — just maybe — you’re finally safe.
Max’s phone buzzes, breaking the silence. He glances down at the screen, his expression shifting back to that calm, collected demeanor you’ve come to know. “I need to take this call. Are you okay unpacking the rest by yourself?”
“Yeah,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Go ahead. I’ve got this.”
He nods, already heading for the door. But before he leaves, he pauses, turning back to give you one last look.
“If you need anything,” he says, his voice low, “I’m here.”
You nod again, watching him leave, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hallway as he disappears. Once he’s gone, you let out a long breath, sinking down onto the couch.
This is your life now. And somehow, despite everything, it doesn’t feel as scary as it used to.
***
The scent of simmering tomatoes and garlic fills the air as you stand in Max’s kitchen, stirring the pot of sauce slowly. The space around you feels both intimate and strangely unfamiliar, a far cry from the cold, silent kitchens of your past. Here, in Max’s penthouse, everything feels alive, warm.
Max leans against the counter beside you, watching the sauce bubble. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, his sleeves rolled up and his tie long discarded. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before — domestic, almost casual. You’re still getting used to it, the idea of Max being more than just the quiet force of nature who’s been protecting you. Here, in the soft glow of his kitchen lights, he seems … human.
“Are you sure it needs more basil?” Max asks, raising an eyebrow at the pile of fresh leaves you’ve already tossed into the pot.
“Trust me,” you say with a smile, turning the spoon in your hand. “It does.”
Max chuckles under his breath and takes the spoon from you, dipping it into the sauce for a taste. He blows on it gently, then takes a slow, thoughtful sip. His eyes narrow as he considers the flavor, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
“Not bad,” he admits. “But I think you’re overestimating the power of basil.”
“Basil makes everything better,” you say playfully, nudging him with your elbow.
He smirks, setting the spoon down on the counter before leaning back against the cabinets, his arms folding across his chest. “We’ll see. I’ll let you have this one.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head as you go back to stirring the sauce. Max watches you quietly, his eyes lingering on you in a way that sends a strange warmth through your chest. You’ve been in his penthouse for a few days now, and things between you have settled into an easy routine. It’s nice — this strange sense of normalcy.
But every now and then, when you catch him looking at you like that, you’re reminded that there’s nothing entirely normal about this.
“So,” you start, trying to focus on the sauce instead of the way Max is watching you. “Do you cook often?”
Max shrugs, still leaning back lazily against the counter. “Not really. Usually, I have someone come in to do it, but … I don’t mind doing it myself sometimes.”
You nod, stirring the sauce in silence for a moment. There’s a calmness between you, a quiet comfort that has become a regular part of being around Max. But there’s also something else. Something unspoken.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you say suddenly, surprising even yourself with the question.
Max tilts his head, watching you for a moment before a small smile creeps onto his lips. “You know, you ask a lot of questions.”
“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. “And you never answer them.”
He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Alright. Let me think.”
There’s a pause as Max considers his answer. Then, after a moment, he leans in a little closer, his voice dropping just slightly.
“When I was in law school, I almost dropped out. My dad wanted me to be a lawyer, to have something legitimate on the side. But halfway through, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
You raise an eyebrow, surprised by the honesty. “Really? But you stuck with it.”
“Yeah,” Max nods, his expression thoughtful. “I stayed because of Victoria. She said I was too stubborn to quit.”
You smile softly, stirring the sauce as you consider his words. There’s something oddly comforting about hearing that — even Max, the man who always seems so sure of himself, had his moments of doubt.
Before you can respond, Max reaches for the spoon again, dipping it into the sauce for another taste. This time, he doesn’t blow on it first, and the heat catches him off guard. He winces slightly, pulling the spoon away from his lips quickly.
“Too hot?” You ask with a grin, watching his reaction.
“Just a little,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. But as he does, a small streak of sauce remains on the corner of his lip, bright red against his skin.
You chuckle softly, pointing at his face. “You’ve got something right … there.”
Max pauses, his hand hovering near his mouth as he tries to find the spot. But before he can clean it off, something inside you stirs — a sudden impulse you don’t fully understand. Without thinking, you take a step closer, reaching out to him.
His eyes meet yours as you lean in, your heart pounding in your chest. The space between you shrinks, and before you can second-guess yourself, your lips brush against the corner of his mouth, tasting the faint hint of tomato and basil.
The moment is quick, fleeting, but the electricity in the air lingers long after you pull away.
Max freezes, his dark eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The kitchen is quiet except for the low simmer of the sauce on the stove.
You swallow hard, suddenly unsure of what you’ve just done. “I — sorry. You had … some sauce.”
Max blinks, his gaze softening as the corner of his mouth lifts into a small, almost amused smile. “I noticed.”
Your heart races as the weight of the moment hangs between you, and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line. But then Max steps closer, his presence warm and steady, his voice low.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says softly, his eyes searching yours.
“I … I know,” you murmur, your breath catching in your throat as he inches even closer. “But I wanted to.”
For a moment, Max just looks at you, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. And then, slowly, he reaches up, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek.
“You know,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re full of surprises.”
You let out a breathless laugh, your skin tingling under his touch. “Is that a bad thing?”
His thumb grazes your cheekbone, his touch gentle but firm. “No,” he says quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Not at all.”
The tension between you crackles in the air, thick and charged, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you standing in the kitchen, the smell of tomato sauce and garlic surrounding you like a haze.
Max’s hand lingers on your face for just a second longer before he pulls away, clearing his throat and stepping back. The distance between you returns, but the weight of what just happened still hangs in the air, unspoken.
“I should, uh …” He glances at the pot, his voice a little hoarse. “We should finish dinner.”
“Yeah,” you agree quickly, trying to ignore the way your heart is still racing in your chest. “Dinner.”
Max turns back to the stove, grabbing the spoon and stirring the sauce again as though nothing happened. But you can’t shake the feeling that something did happen — that something between you shifted in that moment, even if neither of you is ready to acknowledge it yet.
As you move around the kitchen together, preparing the rest of the meal, the atmosphere is lighter, but there’s an undeniable tension simmering beneath the surface — something neither of you can ignore, no matter how hard you try. Every time your hands brush, every time your eyes meet, it’s there, lingering just out of reach.
And though neither of you says it out loud, you both know that whatever this is between you … it’s far from over.
***
The clink of dishes fills the kitchen, a peaceful rhythm as you and Max stand side by side at the sink. The scent of the meal you cooked together still lingers in the air — garlic, basil, and rich tomato sauce — its warmth a comforting backdrop to the easy silence that has settled between you.
You rinse the plates, passing them to Max, who dries them with a towel and places them in neat stacks. It’s strange how domestic this feels, how normal. After everything that’s happened, after all the chaos and tension, this moment feels almost surreal in its simplicity. The steam from the hot water rises, blurring the edges of your thoughts as you hand him the next plate.
There’s a calm between you, but also something unspoken. A simmering energy that’s been lingering ever since that brief, impulsive kiss earlier. Every time your hands brush, every glance you exchange — it’s there, lingering in the air like a spark waiting to catch.
You try to focus on the task in front of you, scrubbing a stubborn spot on a plate with a sponge, but your thoughts keep drifting back to the way Max’s lips felt when they grazed yours. The way his eyes darkened when he looked at you afterward. And how, even though neither of you has mentioned it since, you know he hasn’t forgotten either.
Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly squeeze the bottle of soap a little too hard, and a burst of bubbles shoots out, landing on Max’s arm. You blink, startled, then burst into laughter as you see the suds clinging to his sleeve.
“Whoops,” you say, biting back more laughter as Max looks down at his arm, then back at you with raised eyebrows.
“Whoops?” He repeats, his tone dry but with a playful glint in his eyes. “You did that on purpose.”
You shake your head, still giggling. “I swear I didn’t! You just-”
Before you can finish your sentence, Max reaches out, swiping a finger through the bubbles on his arm and flicking them back at you. You gasp as the soapy foam splashes your face, catching you completely off guard.
“Max!” You protest, laughing even harder now as you wipe the bubbles from your cheek. “That was not fair!”
Max smirks, leaning casually against the counter with the towel still in his hand. “Payback.”
You narrow your eyes playfully, but you can’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. The tension that’s been simmering all night seems to dissolve in the laughter, replaced by something light and easy. For a moment, it feels like you’ve stepped into a different reality — one where the two of you can just be like this. Normal. Happy.
But then, as the laughter fades, the silence between you shifts again, the air thickening with something else. Something heavier.
Max is watching you, his eyes dark and intense, the playful smirk fading into something far more serious. His gaze lingers on your face, tracing the curve of your lips, the way your chest rises and falls as your breath quickens.
The mood changes so fast it almost knocks the air from your lungs. One second, you’re laughing, and the next, the tension between you is back, sharper and more urgent than before.
You can feel it — the pull between you. It’s like a magnetic force, drawing you closer together, even though neither of you has moved. The bubbles, the dishes, everything else fades into the background as Max takes a slow step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Max …” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. But you don’t know what else to say. You don’t know what this is, this charged energy building between you, but it’s impossible to ignore.
Max takes another step, closing the distance between you, his hand still holding the towel loosely at his side. His eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of you. Just this moment.
You’re not sure who moves first. Maybe it’s both of you at once. But suddenly, Max’s hand is on your waist, pulling you toward him, and his lips crash into yours.
The kiss is hard, almost desperate, like all the tension that’s been building between you has finally snapped. His other hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, pressing you back against the counter.
You gasp against his lips, your hands instinctively grabbing at his shirt, pulling him closer. The cool surface of the cabinets presses into your back, but you hardly notice it. All you can focus on is Max — on the heat of his body against yours, the way his lips move with a hunger that makes your knees go weak.
For a split second, you can’t think. Can’t breathe. All you know is that you want more — need more. Max’s kiss is consuming, overwhelming, and you find yourself lost in it, lost in him.
His hand tightens on your waist, his thumb brushing against the bare skin just under the hem of your shirt. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft, involuntary moan against his lips.
That sound seems to snap something in Max. He breaks the kiss suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at you, his breathing ragged. His eyes are wild, dark with an emotion you can’t quite name.
“Are you sure about this?” He asks, his voice rough, low. His thumb still strokes your skin, a gentle reminder of the fire burning between you.
You nod, your heart racing. You can barely find your voice, but when you do, it’s filled with certainty. “Yes.”
That’s all it takes.
Max crashes his lips against yours again, harder this time, more intense. His hand slips under your shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he presses you further into the cabinets. The towel he was holding drops to the floor, forgotten, as both of his hands find their way to your body.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. His kiss is rough, insistent, and you can feel the barely restrained desire in the way his hands roam your body, the way his mouth claims yours like he can’t get enough.
The kiss deepens, growing more heated by the second, and you lose yourself in the sensation of it all — the taste of him, the feel of his hands on you, the way his body fits so perfectly against yours. It’s like nothing else matters in this moment, like the world outside this kitchen doesn’t even exist.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, Max pulls away again, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath.
You’re both silent for a moment, the only sound in the kitchen the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the rapid beating of your hearts. Max’s hands are still on your waist, his grip firm but gentle, as if he’s afraid to let go.
When he finally opens his eyes, they’re softer now, the wild intensity from earlier replaced by something deeper. Something more vulnerable.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smile, your heart swelling at his words. “Me too.”
He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips — this one slower, more tender, like he’s savoring the moment. When he pulls back, there’s a small smile on his face, and you can’t help but smile back.
There’s a calm between you now, a quiet understanding. Whatever this is between you, it’s real. It’s undeniable. And as you stand there, wrapped in Max’s arms, you know that things between you will never be the same again.
***
“Is that …” One of the men, Gregory, squints toward the entrance of the exclusive restaurant, pausing in the middle of a flirtatious exchange with the hostess. His words trail off, confusion clouding his features.
“What?” Brian, the stockier of the group, follows his gaze, annoyed that Gregory stopped mid-conversation. “What’s up, man?”
Gregory gestures with a tilt of his chin toward the door, where a woman has just stepped in. The place is dimly lit, but something about her seems familiar, though they can't quite place her.
“Do I know her from somewhere?” Gregory mutters, his brow furrowed as he leans back in his chair. The hostess, sensing their distraction, uses the opportunity to walk away, leaving them with menus but no promises of a table anytime soon.
Brian cranes his neck to get a better look. “Wait … yeah, she looks familiar.” His eyes narrow, trying to make out her face in the low light as she stands by the coat check with a man. The guy is tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive-looking suit. He’s effortlessly helping her out of her coat, revealing a very obvious baby bump underneath her fitted dress.
“That can’t be …” Gregory’s voice drops, his eyes widening. He leans forward abruptly, his voice incredulous now. “No way. It can’t be her.”
Brian is staring hard now too, the realization dawning on him slowly. “Holy shit. Is that …”
“It’s Y/N,” Gregory finishes, his tone a mix of disbelief and amazement. “No fucking way.”
Both men stare openly now, their jaws slack. This can’t be the same Y/N they remember. The meek, quiet wife of their old friend, Jonathan Harper. The one who always seemed so timid, always a little on edge, looking small beside Jonathan's larger-than-life personality.
“Didn’t she …” Brian begins, but the sentence dies in his throat as you turns, facing their direction for a brief second. There’s no mistaking it now. It’s definitely you.
“But she looks …” Gregory is still fumbling for words. Different is an understatement. The woman they remember had been quiet, always fading into the background whenever Jonathan had his friends over. The Y/N they’re looking at now is glowing, confident, carrying yourself in a way they’ve never seen before.
“Jesus, man,” Brian mutters under his breath, eyes still locked on her. “She’s pregnant.”
Gregory snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. “And with someone else? This quick after Jonathan? What the hell?”
Brian leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, his tone taking on a gossipy edge. “Guess the widow moved on real fast, huh?”
The two of them exchange knowing looks, already jumping to conclusions. In their minds, the version of Y/N they remember wouldn’t have been able to survive without Jonathan — without a man to take care of her. But here you are, very much alive, very much pregnant, and very much with someone else.
Brian’s eyes flicker back to your new partner. “Who the hell is the guy?”
“Beats me.” Gregory leans forward, intrigued. The man looks polished, strong, and carries himself like he’s someone important. He’s not standing too close, but his body language is protective, subtle but noticeable. He’s keeping an eye on you, as if ready to act if needed.
Gregory turns back to Brian, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Should we go say something?”
Brian looks at him, eyes gleaming with the kind of self-satisfied anticipation of someone about to stir trouble. “Hell yeah, we should.”
They exchange smirks, feeling a sudden surge of superiority. After all, you had been part of their circle by extension of Jonathan. You were Jonathan’s wife — emphasis on were — and to them, this move you pulled, getting knocked up by someone else and flaunting it in public, doesn’t sit right.
“Let’s see what she has to say for herself,” Gregory mutters, already starting to rise from his seat.
But as the two men stand up, ready to saunter over, something makes them pause.
The man at your side reaches up to adjust his suit jacket, and as he does, the fabric pulls back just enough to reveal something. Tucked into a holster at his side is a sleek, black gun, the metal gleaming subtly under the restaurant's dim lights.
Brian notices it at the same time. The two exchange glances, the smugness draining from their faces, replaced with a mix of uncertainty and alarm.
“Did you see that?” Brian hisses, his voice dropping several octaves.
Gregory nods, frozen in place, his gaze locked on the gun. He looks back at you, now laughing softly as the man beside you places a protective hand on the small of your back. You have no idea they’re watching you, no idea they were even thinking about approaching you. But your partner? He’s fully aware.
Max turns his head just enough to catch their eyes, and though he doesn’t say a word, his message is clear. The slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth says everything. Don’t even think about it.
Brian swallows hard. “Who the hell is this guy?”
Gregory shakes his head, suddenly regretting the entire idea. “I don’t know, but I’m not sticking around to find out.”
They both sit back down, their bravado evaporating as quickly as it had come. They exchange another uneasy glance, neither of them willing to admit they’ve just been scared off by a single look, but both fully aware that they want nothing to do with whatever’s going on here.
“Maybe she’s not our business anymore,” Brian mutters, grabbing his glass of whiskey and taking a long, deliberate sip.
Gregory nods, his eyes flickering back to you one last time. You’re completely engrossed in your conversation with the man, your hand resting on your belly as you smile softly up at him. Whoever this guy is, he’s clearly important to you. And as much as they hate to admit it, you don’t look like the fragile, breakable woman they remember.
In fact, you look happier than you ever did when you were with Jonathan.
“Yeah,” Gregory agrees, his voice subdued. “Maybe she never was.”
The two men settle back into their seats, the waitress bringing over a basket of bread and menus they’d long since forgotten about. They exchange a few more words, but the energy has shifted. The gossip that once seemed so juicy has lost its appeal.
As they half-heartedly resume their conversation, their eyes drift back to you and Max every so often. They can’t help it. There’s something captivating about the way you hold herself now — something different from the woman they once knew.
Brian, ever the more curious of the two, finally leans back in his chair and lets out a low whistle. “She really moved on, huh?”
Gregory shrugs, pushing his bread around on the plate in front of him. “Guess so.”
But as the night wears on, neither of them can shake the image of you and your new life. The woman who was once a shadow in the background of their lives is now someone they barely recognize. And for the first time, they realize that maybe — just maybe — they never really knew you at all.
Across the room, you and Max remain unaware of their scrutiny, wrapped in your own world, where the past no longer has a hold on either of you.
Summary: Franco’s concussion has come and gone, but his desire to see the angel of a physician who likely saved his life has only gotten stronger … it’s just a shame that he tends to lose any semblance of composure when you’re around
Note: this is the much requested second part to Malpractice … but even better than the first part if I do say so myself 🫣
The Las Vegas Grand Prix is a distant blur in Franco’s memory. The crash. The pain. The disorientation.
But there’s something else that lingers, too. Something soft that refuses to leave him alone.
It’s the image of you, kneeling in front of him, your hands steady even as his world spun. Your voice cutting through the haze, your gaze sharp and intense, demanding his attention. The way you pushed him to stay alert, to pay attention, to focus on something other than the chaos in his head.
Franco knows he owes his sanity, maybe even his life, to you.
It’s been a week since the crash, and he’s been cleared by the medical team to race again in Qatar, despite a lingering headache that’s been stubbornly hanging on. But it’s not the headache that’s bothering him. It’s the fact that you’re not here. You’re not at the track. Not in the garage. Not hovering over him like some kind of guardian angel.
He wants to see you again. Needs to.
He’s sitting in the Williams debrief room, surrounded by engineers who are talking a mile a minute about tire wear and lap times. But Franco is barely listening. He keeps checking his phone, hoping for some sort of miracle: a text, a call, anything that might tell him you’re here. That you’ve returned to the paddock.
But the screen stays empty.
“Franco, are you with us?” James Vowles’ voice cuts through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present.
“Yeah, sorry,” Franco mutters, rubbing his eyes. “What were you saying about tire strategy?”
James raises an eyebrow. “It’s fine. Focus on your recovery. We’re just going over the data from today’s practice. You’ve got time. But-” He looks around, making sure no one else is listening, “-don’t be distracted during qualifying tomorrow. We need every bit of performance we can get from you this weekend.”
“Right.” Franco nods, but his mind drifts again, his gaze slipping back to his phone. It’s like the rhythm of the weekend has been broken without you here, without the sharpness of your voice telling him he’s being an idiot, without your soft, steady presence making everything feel a little more manageable.
A soft knock sounds at the door, and Alex steps in, his casual smile immediately making the room feel a little lighter. His eyes flicker over to Franco. “How’s it going, mate?”
Franco immediately perks up. “Alex! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He straightens up in his chair, suddenly interested in the conversation.
Alex raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that because you’ve missed me, or because I bring good news?”
“Both,” Franco grins. “But seriously, I’ve been thinking about something, and I need your help.”
Alex folds his arms, giving Franco a knowing look. “Uh oh. What have you gotten yourself into now?”
“It’s about Y/N,” Franco says, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t seem too surprised. He sighs, already knowing where this is headed. “Ah, I should’ve known.”
“No, listen,” Franco presses, his voice a little more serious. “I need her to come to Abu Dhabi. She has to be there. I-” He pauses, trying to put his feelings into words. “I’ve been thinking about her all week. I just … I need to see her again.”
Alex raises both hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. You want me to convince her to come to a race just so you can see her again?”
Alex shakes his head, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “You really have it bad, don’t you?”
Franco hesitates, his smile faltering just slightly, then nods. “I do.” His expression softens. “She helped me when I didn’t even know what was happening. I’ve never had someone take care of me like that.”
Alex takes a moment, studying Franco’s face, then lets out a long breath. “Look, I can’t make any promises. Y/N’s a resident physician. Her schedule is insane. She barely has time to breathe, let alone fly out to the Middle East for a race. But-” He hesitates, as if weighing his next words carefully. “But I’ll ask her. I’ll see what I can do. But no promises, okay?”
“Just ask,” Franco says urgently. “I don’t care if it’s a long shot. I need her there.”
Alex chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll ask. But you owe me a beer if this works.”
“You got it,” Franco grins, already feeling the relief of having put his request into motion. “Thanks.”
***
It’s late by the time you’re wrapping up your shift at the hospital. The weight of your scrubs feels heavier than usual tonight, your body aching after hours of rounds and consultations. You’ve barely slept all week, the demands of your residency taking up every last ounce of energy. All you want to do now is crash into bed and forget about the world for a few hours.
But then your phone buzzes in your pocket, and the familiar name on the screen makes you stop in your tracks.
Alex.
You sigh, glancing around the empty hallway before answering. “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”
“Hey,” Alex greets you, his tone casual but there’s a hint of something else in his voice. “How’s it going?”
You roll your eyes, leaning against the wall. “You know, same old. Patients, paperwork, more patients. I swear, I’m starting to see people’s illnesses in my dreams at this point. What’s up?”
“Well, funny you should mention that,” Alex says with a chuckle, “because I’ve got a bit of a favor to ask.”
You brace yourself. “What now?”
“I need you to come to Abu Dhabi.”
There’s a beat of silence. “What? No. I can’t just drop everything and fly to Abu Dhabi. You know how insane my schedule is right now.”
“I know, I know,” Alex says quickly. “But listen, it’s not for me. It’s for Franco.”
You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “Franco? What does he have to do with this?”
“He, uh, well, he’s been asking about you. He really wants you to come. He … he kind of needs you there, Y/N.”
You frown. “Needs me? What, like for a medical emergency?”
“No, no,” Alex quickly reassures you. “It’s not like that. He’s just — he’s been a bit, you know, off since the crash. He keeps talking about how much you helped him, how much he needs to see you again. He’s … kinda, well, taken with you.”
You pause, processing the unexpected request. “Wait. You want me to go to Abu Dhabi just to … see Franco?”
Alex sighs. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I totally get it if you can’t make it. I just thought I’d put it out there, because he’s really … well, he’s really worried about seeing you again.”
You take a deep breath, staring at the floor. There’s a tug at your chest. Franco’s crash. The way he looked when he stumbled into the garage, his eyes unfocused, his voice thick with concussion. And how you couldn’t help but care, couldn’t help but feel something stir in your chest as you took care of him.
“I don’t know,” you say softly. “I don’t know if I can get time off. I’ve got a million things to do.”
“Please,” Alex pleads, his tone sincere. “Just think about it. I’ll take care of the rest. You don’t have to worry about anything. Just — just come for the weekend. For him.”
You hesitate for a long moment. Your exhaustion is overwhelming, but so is the pull to be there for Franco, to check in on him after everything that happened.
“Okay,” you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Alex lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to him.”
“I’ll talk to my supervisor tomorrow and see if I can get a couple of days off. I’ll let you know.”
“Great. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks again, really.”
As the call ends, you press the phone to your ear, staring at the blank hospital hallway. Something in your chest stirs, a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite name. You promised yourself you wouldn’t get involved with any of these drivers. But Franco … there’s something about him. Something you can’t shake.
You don’t know what’s going to happen in Abu Dhabi. But you know one thing for sure: you’re going to see him again.
***
Franco is buzzing with energy as he walks away from the Williams garage after FP2. The track is alive with its usual Friday hum: team radios squawking, mechanics wheeling equipment, fans pressing against barricades for a glimpse of the action. Normally, this is his favorite part of the weekend — the calm between sessions when he can breathe and think through what’s next.
But today, his thoughts are miles away.
You.
Alex told him you’d agreed to come. He’s spent all week mentally preparing for this moment, imagining what he’ll say when he sees you again. He’d told himself he’d play it cool. That he wouldn’t come off as desperate or weird. That he’d be charming and effortless.
And now, as he walks toward the Williams motorhome, he’s running through those lines in his head like a script. But then, through the glass doors of the motorhome, he spots you.
You’re sitting at a table with Lily, wine glasses between you. You’re mid-laugh, one hand lightly gesturing, the other wrapped around the stem of your glass. The sound of your laugh doesn’t reach him, but your expression — warm and animated — is enough to stop him in his tracks.
Franco stares, frozen. For a second, he’s not a professional driver or a smooth-talking twenty-one-year-old. He’s just a guy, floored by the sight of someone he’s been thinking about far too much.
And then, because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, he walks straight into the glass door.
The sound is embarrassingly loud — a deep, resonant thud that draws the attention of a couple of mechanics nearby. Franco stumbles back, clutching his forehead as the door wobbles slightly on its hinges.
“Oh, come on,” he mutters under his breath, blinking rapidly to clear the stars dancing in his vision.
Inside, Lily gasps, already half out of her chair. But you — you just press a hand to your mouth, visibly trying to suppress a laugh.
Franco pushes the door open this time (successfully, thank God) and steps into the motorhome, trying to salvage whatever remains of his dignity.
“Didn’t know the motorhome was defending itself today,” he says, flashing a crooked grin as he rubs his forehead.
You’re still smiling, but there’s a glint in your eyes as you take a sip of wine. “I see you’re still finding creative ways to injure yourself.”
Lily, standing now, gives him a once-over. “Are you okay? That sounded bad.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Franco says quickly, though he’s still holding his head. “Just testing the structural integrity of the door. Very solid. Great engineering.”
Lily rolls her eyes, muttering something about grabbing an ice pack before disappearing into the kitchen.
You lean back in your chair, tilting your head as you look at him. “You know, you really don’t have to keep hurting yourself just to get my attention. There are easier ways.”
Franco blinks, momentarily thrown off by the teasing edge in your voice. But then he recovers, his grin widening. “Oh, so you noticed me, huh? Mission accomplished.”
You arch an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Hard not to notice when someone face-plants into a door.”
“Ouch,” Franco says, clutching his chest dramatically. “First my head, now my ego. You’re ruthless.”
You laugh, setting your glass down. “I’m a doctor. I call it like I see it.”
“And what do you see?” He asks, leaning casually against the doorframe (or at least trying to — he slightly misjudges the angle and has to correct himself, which makes him look anything but casual).
“I see someone who might need another concussion test if they keep this up,” you say dryly, though there’s a hint of amusement in your tone.
Franco seizes the opening. “Oh, you’ll give me a test? What, right here? Should I sit down? Or maybe lie down? Whatever you need, angel, I’m ready.”
You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “I’m off-duty, thank you very much. And stop calling me angel.”
“Why? It suits you,” Franco says without missing a beat. He steps closer, his grin turning just a bit sheepish. “You did save me, after all.”
“From driving with a concussion,” you reply, crossing your arms.
“Still counts,” he says, shrugging. “So … you’re really here. Thought maybe Alex was messing with me.”
You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know, for fun? He likes to mess with me,” Franco says, his grin turning rueful. “But I’m glad he wasn’t. It’s … it’s good to see you.”
Your expression softens, and you glance down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “It’s good to see you too.”
For a moment, there’s a silence between you. Not awkward, but charged. Franco shifts his weight, scratching the back of his neck. He’s been preparing for this moment all week, but now that you’re standing in front of him, he’s at a loss.
Lily reappears then, an ice pack in hand. She tosses it to Franco, who catches it against his chest. “Here,” she says. “For the door-shaped bruise you’re probably going to have.”
“Thanks,” Franco says, pressing the pack to his forehead. He winces slightly but keeps his gaze on you.
Lily looks between the two of you, her lips twitching as if she’s trying not to laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you two to … whatever this is,” she says, grabbing her glass and retreating toward the other end of the motorhome.
Franco watches her go, then looks back at you, his smile softening. “So … you’re here for the whole weekend?”
You nod. “Lily convinced me to stay. Said I needed a break.”
“You do,” Franco says quickly. “Definitely. Big time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“Because …” Franco hesitates, then decides to go for it. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Vegas.”
You blink, caught off guard by his honesty. “Franco-”
“I’m serious,” he interrupts, stepping closer. “I know I’m probably coming off like a total idiot right now, but I don’t care. You-” He gestures vaguely, as if struggling to find the right words. “You’re different. You’re not like anyone else here.”
“That’s because I’m not supposed to be here,” you say, your tone light but your eyes searching his. “I’m a doctor, Franco. Not meant for … whatever this world is.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. “You could be anything, and I’d still want to know you. You’re …” He trails off, then laughs at himself. “God, I’m bad at this.”
You laugh too, finally relaxing. “A little, yeah.”
“But I’m trying,” he says, his expression earnest now. “And I’ll keep trying, even if it means walking into more doors. Or walls. Or whatever else gets in my way.”
You shake your head, exasperated but undeniably charmed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously into you,” Franco counters, grinning.
You groan, but your smile betrays you. “Stop. That was awful.”
“Was it?” Hr teases, leaning just slightly closer.
“Yes,” you say firmly, though there’s a hint of laughter in your voice. “And I’m not letting you use your injuries as an excuse to flirt with me.”
“Then what excuse should I use?” He asks, tilting his head.
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now. “How about none? Just be normal.”
“Normal,” Franco repeats, as if testing the word. “Okay. I can do that. Probably.”
“Somehow, I doubt it,” you say, but your tone is lighter now, your guard lowering just a fraction.
Franco grins, sensing the shift. He might not be smooth, but he’s persistent. And right now, that feels like enough.
***
The hospital hums with its usual rhythm: the sharp beeps of monitors, the steady shuffle of footsteps, and the occasional murmur of voices echoing down sterile hallways. You’re halfway through your shift, mentally cataloging a growing to-do list, when one of the nurses finds you near the break room.
She looks far too amused for your liking, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Hey, Doc,” she says, her tone conspiratorial. “You’ve got a patient in Room 43. Interesting case. File’s by the door.”
You glance up from your notes, immediately suspicious. “Interesting how?”
“Let’s just say … not your usual trauma,” she replies, her grin widening. “Go see for yourself.”
With a sigh, you grab your tablet and head down the hallway. You’re too tired to entertain the nurse’s cryptic humor, but curiosity tugs at you anyway. When you reach Room 43, you spot the chart hanging by the door. You pick it up and start skimming, your brain automatically processing the medical shorthand.
And then your eyes land on the complaint: penile fracture.
You freeze. Your brain short-circuits for a good five seconds.
Penile fracture. Seriously? You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to laugh or groan. It’s not unheard of, but it’s rare enough to make your day a little more … colorful.
Squaring your shoulders, you prepare yourself for what’s undoubtedly going to be an awkward encounter. Professionalism, you remind yourself. You’ve handled weirder cases.
But all of that resolve shatters the second you open the door and step into the room.
Because the patient isn’t some anonymous stranger.
It’s Franco.
Franco, lounging on the exam table like he doesn’t have a care in the world, scrolling through his phone with his free hand. Franco, the same man you’ve been dating for months, who absolutely should not be in this hospital room right now.
Your mouth opens, ready to deliver your standard introduction, but no words come out.
Franco looks up at the sound of the door, his face breaking into that familiar, devilish grin. “Hey, angel.”
“What the-” You stop yourself, gripping the edge of the clipboard like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. “Franco, what are you doing here?”
He sets his phone down, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m a patient. Clearly.”
You take a deep breath, setting the clipboard aside. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.” He leans back slightly, gesturing toward himself with both hands. “Broken dick. You saw the file.”
Your jaw tightens as you step closer, lowering your voice. “Franco, this is a hospital. You can’t just-”
“I didn’t just anything,” he cuts in, feigning indignation. “I’m here because you abandoned me this morning. And now I’m suffering.”
You blink at him, completely thrown. “Suffering?”
“Yes!” He says, sitting up straighter, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays any attempt at seriousness. “You left me. Alone. In bed. With …” He lowers his voice dramatically. “An issue.”
Your brain scrambles to keep up. “An issue?”
Franco sighs, as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Blue balls. A raging, unresolved situation. You’re a doctor — you know how dangerous that can be.”
“Dangerous?” Your voice rises slightly before you catch yourself. “Franco, I left because I had to come to work. Like a normal person.”
“Right, but normal people don’t leave their boyfriends high and dry,” he argues, his tone edging into the realm of petulant. “Do you know how much it hurts? It’s practically a medical emergency.”
You close your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So let me get this straight,” you say slowly. “You’re here because you have blue balls. And instead of — oh, I don’t know — handling it with your hand and some lotion like a grown adult, you decided to come to my workplace and waste everyone’s time?”
“I don’t see it as wasting time,” Franco says, crossing his arms. “I see it as seeking expert care. From a very qualified, very beautiful doctor.”
“Franco,” you say warningly, but he’s already grinning.
“Besides,” he continues, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt, “don’t you think it’s romantic? I’m literally willing to suffer for you.”
“Oh my God.” You press a hand to your forehead, feeling a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “You are not suffering. And this is not romantic — it’s ridiculous.”
You stare at him, torn between wanting to strangle him and laugh. “You know I could get in trouble for this, right? What if someone finds out I’m treating my boyfriend? Or worse, that you’re faking a medical emergency?”
“I’m not faking,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “The pain in my cock is very real.”
“Franco.” Your voice is flat, and you fix him with your best no-nonsense look.
He hesitates for a beat, then leans forward slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to confess something scandalous. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a fracture. But it is painful!”
You throw your hands up, resisting the urge to laugh despite yourself. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”
Franco pouts, his lower lip sticking out in an exaggerated fashion. “Come on, angel. Don’t be mad. I just wanted to see you.”
“You couldn’t have waited until my shift was over?”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m impatient. And in my defense, you looked very cute leaving this morning.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you love me,” he says, his grin widening.
“Don’t push your luck,” you warn, though there’s no real bite in your tone.
Franco leans back on the exam table, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just disrupted your workday. “So … are you gonna examine me or what?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you want me to call security? Because that’s where this is headed.”
“You wouldn’t,” he says, his confidence unwavering.
You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Try me.”
Franco holds your gaze for a moment, then sighs dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. No exam. But only because I value our relationship.”
“Uh-huh,” you say, not even trying to hide your sarcasm.
He grins again, the kind of grin that’s always been your undoing. “You can’t stay mad at me, angel. Admit it.”
You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts. “Franco, you’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, you’d be on your way out of here in handcuffs.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and he smirks. “Kinky.”
“Oh, for the love of-” You don’t bother finishing the sentence, turning toward the door instead.
“Wait, wait!” Franco calls after you, sliding off the exam table. “I’m kidding! Don’t go!”
You pause, looking back at him. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, his expression softer now. “Seriously,” he says. “I just … I missed you. And I thought maybe this would make you laugh. Or at least roll your eyes. Which it did, so … mission accomplished?”
You sigh, feeling your resolve waver. It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s looking at you like that — like you’re the only person in the world who matters.
“Franco,” you say, your voice quieter now. “You can’t just show up like this. I have a job to do.”
“I know,” he says, stepping closer. “And I promise I won’t make a habit of it. But … can I take you to dinner after your shift? As an apology?”
You study him for a moment, weighing your options. Finally, you let out a small sigh. “Fine. But only if you promise to behave.”
“I promise,” he says quickly, holding a hand over his heart.
“And no more faking injuries,” you add, pointing a finger at him.
“Scout’s honor,” he says, though the mischievous glint in his eye suggests otherwise.
You shake your head, exasperated but smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, you keep me around,” he says, grinning.
“For now,” you say, opening the door. “Now get out of here before someone sees you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Franco says, saluting playfully as he follows you into the hallway.
As he walks away, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Ridiculous as he is, there’s no denying that life with Franco is never boring.
Summary: when you agreed to join your cousin Lily at the Las Vegas Grand Prix to watch her boyfriend race, you didn’t realize the weekend would end with you saving a rookie driver with a concussion from the dangerous schemes of his team
The Williams Racing garage is chaos incarnate. The crash replay loops on the screens above the engineers’ heads, showing Franco’s car slamming into the barriers. The sound of carbon fiber shattering is so vivid in your mind it might as well have happened right next to you.
The footage is brutal.
50G.
The kind of impact that makes your stomach twist into knots. Franco couldn’t even get out of the car by himself, the marshals had to haul him out like a ragdoll. And now, the garage feels like it’s on edge, everyone pretending they’re not watching for updates while they pretend to keep working.
“He’s at the medical center,” someone mutters behind you. “They’re checking him out now.”
Good. He needs checking out. A crash like that doesn’t leave you unscathed, no matter how tough you think you are.
You stand off to the side, arms crossed tightly over your chest, watching as engineers, mechanics, and media relations people swirl around each other, avoiding eye contact but buzzing with nervous energy. Lily had invited you here as Alex’s guest, but you feel completely out of place, like you’re intruding on a family argument you weren’t supposed to overhear.
Then you hear it.
“He’ll be fine to race tomorrow,” James Vowles says, his voice low but carrying just enough weight to reach your ears.
You blink, sure you’ve misheard. But no, he’s standing near a huddle of engineers, speaking in clipped tones like this is just another logistical problem to solve. “We can’t find a replacement on such short notice,” he continues, “so we need him in the car. No excuses.”
Your jaw drops. You can’t help it. “You’re joking,” you blurt out.
James and the engineers freeze, turning to you like you’re some alien creature who’s wandered into their secret lair.
He recovers quickly, offering a tight smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met-”
“Are you serious right now?” You step closer, fueled by disbelief. “He crashed into the wall at 50G. He couldn’t even stand up without help. And you think it’s a good idea to put him back in the car tomorrow?”
James’ expression hardens. “Miss, this isn’t your concern-”
“Actually, it’s Doctor. And it is my concern if you’re planning to endanger someone’s life for a race.” Your voice rises, but you don’t care. Let them stare. Let them glare. You’re not about to stand by while they make decisions like this.
“Look,” James says, trying for diplomacy. “The FIA medical team will clear him if he’s fit to race. That’s their job, not yours.”
“And what if they’re wrong?” You demand. “What if he has a concussion? What if he gets in that car and something happens because you couldn’t be bothered to prioritize his safety?”
Before James can reply, the garage door creaks open, and Franco stumbles in.
All eyes snap to him. He’s leaning heavily on his physiotherapist, his helmet dangling from his other hand. His usually sharp, confident features are slack, his eyes glassy. He looks like he’s barely holding it together.
Your chest tightens. He shouldn’t even be standing right now, let alone back here in the thick of it.
The physiotherapist helps him over to a chair, and Franco slumps into it with a groan. “I’m fine,” he says, though his words slur slightly. “Just a little — what’s the word? Shaken up.”
You don’t even think. You march over to him, the rest of the garage fading into the background.
“Franco,” you say firmly, crouching in front of him. “Look at me.”
His unfocused eyes wander to your face, and he frowns like he’s trying to remember where he’s seen you before. “Do I know you?”
“No, but I’m about to save your life, so let’s call it even,” you say briskly. “How many fingers am I holding up?” You hold up three.
He squints at your hand. “Uh … six?”
Your heart sinks. “Okay. Follow my finger.” You move your hand slowly in front of his face, but his gaze wobbles, unable to track it.
“Wow,” he mutters, blinking rapidly. “You’re really pretty.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. “Franco, focus. Do you feel nauseous? Dizzy?”
“Both,” he admits, leaning back in the chair. “But it’s fine. I’ve felt worse.”
“It’s not fine.” Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you can’t help it. “You have a concussion. Probably a severe one. You need to rest and recover, not get back in the cockpit tomorrow.”
He grins lazily, his head lolling to the side. “Are you my MILF angel?”
Your brain short-circuits. “What?”
He waves a hand vaguely in your direction. “You’re older, right? Like … a doctor? And hot? Definitely an angel. My MILF angel.”
Someone behind you chokes on a laugh. You whip your head around to glare, silencing them instantly.
Turning back to Franco, you take a deep breath. “Okay, you’re clearly not in your right mind, so I’m going to ignore that. But you need medical attention. Real medical attention. Not whatever half-assed clearance the FIA is going to give you.”
He reaches out clumsily, his hand brushing against your arm. “You’re bossy. I like that. Are you the same way in bed?”
You grab his wrist gently but firmly, lowering it back to his lap. “Franco, listen to me. I’m serious. You can’t race tomorrow. You could get seriously hurt. Do you understand that?”
He stares at you for a long moment, his expression oddly thoughtful. Then he smiles faintly. “You’re really worried about me, huh?”
“Yes,” you say without hesitation. “Because someone has to be.”
For a second, something shifts in his eyes, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. But then he blinks, and the moment is gone.
“You’re nice,” he murmurs, slumping further into the chair. “I like you.”
You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the Williams team members still hovering nearby. “He needs to go back to the medical center. Now.”
James steps forward, his face a mask of polite concern. “I appreciate your input, but we’ll handle it from here.”
You stand, squaring your shoulders. “No, you won’t. Because if you try to put him in that car tomorrow, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what you’re doing. And trust me, the media will eat it up.”
James’ jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods to the physiotherapist. “Take him back.”
As the man helps Franco to his feet, he glances back at you, his lopsided smile still in place. “Don’t go anywhere, pretty doctor. I’m gonna marry you.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting the urge to scream. “You’re definitely not racing tomorrow,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else.
But as you watch him stumble out of the garage, you can’t shake the feeling that this fight isn’t over yet.
summary: max's attendance at the victoria's secret fashion show surprises everyone, turns out he has his own angel.
pairing: max verstappen x fem!vsangel!reader.
warnings: use of y/n, time skipping, age gap (reader is older than max), suggestive pics i guess (i mean it's victoria's secret after all), hard launching.
faceclaim: jasmine tookes (queen of my heart)
a/n: had to make this one after the vsfs of course ;) enjoy!
feedback is always appreciated.
MASTERLIST
do not copy/repost/translate my work anywhere!
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six months ago.
max verstappen is now following angely/n.
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angely/n
liked by gigihadid, taylor_hill and 501,662 more.
angely/n paris for a minute 💌
view all comments.
username1 goddess
username2 omg love the fit
taylor_hill so cute 🥹
angely/n love you!
username3 gorgeous!
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angely/n
liked by gigihadid, maxverstappen1 and 544,678 more.
angely/n late night pics 🖤
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username1 share that skin care routine girl
gigihadid gorgeous 🩷
angely/n miss you <3
username2 facecard never declined
username3 max fancy seeing you here 🙂↕️
username4 it could also be just a like yk
username3 it's my delusion leave me alone.
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angely/n
liked by maxverstappen1, victoriassecret and 605,662 more.
angely/n WAIT IS OVER!!! tune in today to watch the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show 2024 🤩 missed this so much 🩷
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username1 YES FINALLY
username2 good luck y/n!
victoriassecret 🪽🩷
username3 can't wait!!
username4 max verstappen are you trying something with that like 🤨
username5 can't blame him tho
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angely/n
liked by maxverstappen1, victoriassecret and 744,178 more.
angely/n so happy to be back 🥹 thank you to the whole team for making such an effort to make this night unforgettable! 🪽🩵
view all comments.
username1 YOU KILLED IT
username2 i gasped when you came out
maxverstappen1 so pretty 🤍
angely/n thank you for coming 🤍
username3 WHAT THE FUCK
username4 YES YES YES MAX
username5 oh my god
username6 what a legend.
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angely/n
tagged maxverstappen1.
liked by maxverstappen1, bellahadid and 810,782 more.
angely/n i've never been the soft launching type 🤭🤍
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username1 WE LOVE A HARD LAUNCHING QUEEN
username2 max verstappen you got yourself a victoria's secret angel
maxverstappen1 i know i can't believe it
username3 LMAO MAX
username4 such an unexpected couple i love it
maxverstappen1 love you 😍
username5 you look stunning girl
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maxverstappen1
tagged angely/n.
liked by redbullracing, landonorris and 845,889 more.
maxverstappen1 my only angel 🪽🤍
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username1 living for the harry styles reference
username2 omg so cute 🥹
angely/n love you 💌
redbullracing the content we needed 🙂↕️
username3 admin did you know already??
redbullracing it was hard to keep such a secret but i'm proud of myself
user48: chop chop wedding planner, when’s the wedding????
danielricciardo: when’s the wedding?
user49: OMG CHARLES NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU, WHENS THE WEDDING????
user50: shut up when nobody asks, when’s the wedding????
maxverstappen1: when’s the wedding?
user51: boy who asked? when’s the wedding?????
charles_leclerc: I WAS GOING TO ANNOUNCE THE WEDDING DATE. BUT YOU SICK FUCKS DONT DESERVE IT! SO FUCK YOU ALL!!! YOU WONT KNOW WHEN THE WEDDING IS!! HA HA HA. LOSERS.
user51: charles wait we were joking
user52: don’t pmo
user53: DONT BE SUCH A BABY!!! WHENS THE FUCKING WEDDING?
liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz, and 1,027,017 others!
maxverstappen1: i’ve reached peak happiness
view comments below!
user53: you are fucking kidding me
user54: CHARLES I WILL KILL YOU
user55: WHAT
user56: WHEN
user57: HOW
user58: WHERE
yourusername; 💙💙
user59: BUT YOU JUST PROPOSED??? LIKE THREE MONTHS AGO
user60: no, you guys are actually so fake for this
user61: wow, i can’t believe this
landonorris: congratulations!! i still think me as a bridesmaid would’ve been amazing but….
maxverstappen1: let it go lando
landonorris; FINE
user62: charles when i find you
user63: i say we all kill charles on his birthday
user64: how could you guys do this to me??
oscarpiastri: loved the shrimp! 🦐
user65: THEY HAD SHRIMP
user66: charles planned a whole wedding in 3 months???
use67: that’s actually so impressive
liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, user68, and 927,518 others!
yourusername: i win! 👰♀️
view comments below!
user68: you’re actually fucking kidding me. charles leclerc when i find you
user69: not to much now, he did plan this in 3 only months
charles_leclerc: THANK YOU!! HOW ABOUT SOME APPRECIATION FOR MY PLANNING
user70: stfu. it’s your fault non of us knew when the wedding was going to be
user71: these pictures are so cute 🥰
user78: living through you guys rn
user79: someday i hope to be married to someone who loves me as much as max loves yn
user80: con😭gra😭tula😭tions😭
user81: so happy for you guys!!! i will go kill myself now!!!
user82: THAT SHOULDVE BEEN ME
user83: that man did NOT wait to put a ring on it
user84: if he wanted to, he would
user85: let this be a reminder to women that if someone wanted to marry you, they would!! congratulations 💙
oscarpiastri: loved the shrimps 🍤
user86: we get it oscar
oscarpiastri; no. you don’t. the shrimp were delicious.
user87: don’t brag
oscarpiastri: i’ll brag all i want. you can’t do anything about it because i had the shrimp and you didn’t 😹
user88: oh damn
user89: someone’s passionate about the shrimp…
yoursistersuser: love you to the moon and back 🌙
yourusername:💛💛💛
charles_leclerc: i’m hearing a lot of ‘love you’ and ‘shrimps’ but i’m not hearing enough ‘thank you charles for planning a beautiful wedding in 3 months and taking time out of your very BUSY racing career to make sure my wedding was amazing’
yourusername: don’t act like you didn’t beg me to let you plan the wedding
maxverstappen1: yeah, me and yn were fine with eloping
charles_leclerc: please guys, no need to thank me! it was my pleasure ❤️
oscarpiastri: the shrimp were great man
liked by carlossainz, maxverstappen1, user90, and 710,761 others!
charles_leclerc: since no one else will say it 😒 thank you charles for planning a beautiful wedding in 3 months and taking time out of your very BUSY racing career to make sure my wedding was amazing
view comments below!
user91: i’m still pissed at you for not telling us when the wedding is
user91: it was a beautiful wedding tho
charles_leclerc: thank you charles!!
charles_leclerc: of course charles!!!
charles_leclerc: beautiful work!! especially with the very short time you were given
user92: maybe we shouldn’t let charles plan anymore weddings, it looks like they’ve drove him insane
carlossainz: i look gorgeous
oscarpiastri: the shrimps were chef kiss 🤌
landonorris: what is with you man?
georgerussell63: are you still drunk?
user93: charles posting more photos then the actual people who got married is so funny 😭
user93: it really sums up their relationship
user94: beautiful wedding planning charles!! 👏
user95: how much do you charge??
user96: i still can’t believe yn and max got together, engaged, and married in less then 2 years
user97: i bet she’s pregnant
user98: WOAH
user99: where tf did that come from
user100: or maybe they just love each other??? not everyone waits years and years hoping that their shitty bf will propose to them
user101: oh! okay!
user102: you ate those decorations up charles
user103: the flowers??? gorgeous
user103: if yn and max ever divorce, i will kill myself
oscarpiastri: great shrimp 🥰
user14: what tf is wrong with you
. . .
thank you fo rrequesting!!! life’s been busy but i hope you guys didn’t forget me 🩶
summary: the one where charles won’t rest until he gets his fiancée’s sister a boyfriend.
liked by maxverstappen1, yoursistersuser, 806,026 others!
charles_leclerc: are you a hot and single guy OR woman in monaco looking for the perfect lady? well boy do i have good news for you! here we have yn ln, my sister-in law, she’s VERY single, likes long walks on the beach, napping, eating, and knitting. if you are interested please comment below! SERIOUS OFFERS ONLY.
view comments below!
yourusername: what the fuck is this charles
charles_leclerc: this is me getting you a boyfriend?
yourusername: NO CHARLES THIS IS JUST NO. @/yoursistersuser TAKE HIS PHONE?
yoursistersuser: I HAVE BUT HE JUST KEEPS BUYING MORE
charles_leclerc: i cannot be stopped
user1: i’m interested?
charles_leclerc: no you are too ugly
yourusername: cha please stop
charles_leclerc: i will stop once i get you a nice PRETTY boyfriend
yoursistersuser: love, please delete this
charles_leclerc: i would do anything for you… except deleted this. yn needs a bf, she’s been to lonely lately
yoursistersuser: but this doesn’t help her get a boyfriend charles
charles_leclerc: but it will!! have faith
user2: he’s trying to sell her like she’s a dog?? 😭
user3: “likes long walks on the beach, napping, eating” IS SHE A DOG CHARLES??
user4: this is borderline weird and thoughtful at the same time
user5: charles get engaged and goes crazy
user6: i’m interested!
charles_leclerc: no you are far too short
yourusername: what’s the point of this if you’re just going to reject everyone
charles_leclerc: i need to pick someone suitable, i don’t need someone ugly or short ruining my wedding pictures
yourusername; then how about you delete this and don’t have to worry about “someone ugly or short ruining my wedding pictures”
charles_leclerc; but i don’t want you alone and sad in the pictures either!
user7: yn doesn’t have a bf?? she’s gorgeous
user8: charles you work with 19 perfectly rich, fine, and tall?? (not really, depends) men, set her up with them
user9: girl half of those men are taken
user8: okay so like 8 rich, fine, and tall (??) men, those are still lots of chances
oscarpiastri: what is going on?
charles_leclerc: are you interested oscar? because you’d be my top pick.
oscarpiastri: i’m too busy with racing for relationships right now, sorry!
yourusername: i just got rejected in front of the whole world through my brother-in law. CHARLES PLEASE STOP THIS
user9: hey so this is crazy!
user10: it’s cute that he cares enough about this too make a whole post
yourusername: charles please stop i’m getting so many dick pics
user12: gross
user13: oh that’s not…
user14: #freeyn
user15: why is he trying to sell her like a dog
user16: if this actual works, i fear we will never hear the end of it from charles
charles_leclerc: all those who are sending dick pics to my sister-in law WILL be reported for harassment. you are lucky my fiancé is holding me back from posting your small dicks all over social media.
user17: POST THE SMALL DICKS CHARLES, DO IT
user18: STOP HOLDING HIM BACK!! LET HIM BE FREE
user19: when he’s protective over his soon to be family >>
user20: three days into summer break and charles has gone crazy
yourusername: i gave you permission to propose to my sister and this is how you repay me?
yoursistersuser: we’re stuck with him for this rest of our lives 😓
yourusername: please, don’t remind me.
user21: “guy or woman” is yn gay?
charles_leclerc: yes! she is half homosexual :)
yourusername: jesus charles
charles_leclerc: what? it’s true!
danielricciardo: can you do one of these post for me?
charles_leclerc: on a completely totally unrelated note @/maxverstappen1, join me for coffee tomorrow morning?
maxverstappen1: sure 👍
— cafe near charles house, 9am, on the dot.
— max verstappen has posted a new story!
[caption: nice cafe 👍]
story responses:
charles_leclerc: hehehehe 😈
user22: SO YOU AND YN WERE HANGING OUT??
user23: that twitter user wasn’t lying??!?!??
user24: charles set you and yn up huh 😼
danielricciardo: who goes to a cafe and gets tea?
maxverstappen1: yn does. and then i felt awkward ordering something else.
danielricciardo: it’s been years and she still makes you nervous?? 🤣
maxverstappen1: shut it
landonorris: i’m surprised you didn’t run away in fear when you say her instead of charles
maxverstappen1: so does everyone just know about charles plan or what?
landonorris: pretty much yeah!
liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 501,026 others!
yourusername: july and august photo dump 👍
view comments below!
charles_leclerc: my wedding is in a week, why are you posting on instagram and not freaking out?
yourusername: i can multitask
charles_leclerc: maybe you having a bf was a bad idea, you are too distracted 😑
yourusername; lalalala can’t hear you
user23: boyfriend you say? 😏
user24: 2 months and shes been seen "hanging out" with max more then 10 times, AND she justs posted jimmy or sassy (i cant tell the difference) what are you tryna say yn?
user25: man i can’t believe charles actually got yn a boyfriend
user26: and it’s MAX. like his max.
user27: how do yall even know theyre dating?
user25: context clues babes
user28: this is the closest we’ll get to yn and max making it “official”
user29: i feel like if they go to the wedding together, that’ll be them making it “official”
user30: oh definitely
maxverstappen1: puzzles are hard
yourusername: they’re easy when you focus on
maxverstappen1: how can i focus when i when i have a gorgeous woman should as yourself near me?
landonorris: that was smooth man 👏
maxverstappen1: thank you, i’ve been practicing
user31: and people are still saying they aren’t together??
user32: people want them to post a story wirh the caption “this is us making it official” 💀 like babes this is the best we’re going to get
user33: i can’t believe the wedding of the century is in ONE WEEK??
user34: it feels like just yesterday when charles accidentally told the whole world he was engaged
liked by charles_leclerc, yourisistersuser, and 1,026,027 others!
yourusername: today, my sister married an idiot
view comments below!
user35: that wedding was so fucking gorgeous
user36: charles and yn planned the whole thing?? fuck f1 we need them as party planners
yourusername: planning this wedding was the most stressful thing in my fucking life. i never want to plan anything ever again
user37: well the wedding was beautiful so, worth it?
user38: i was expecting a much more emotional caption
user39: she got all her emotions out during her speech 😭
user40: OMG HER SPEECH WAS THE CUTEST THING. “charles you have changed mine and my sisters life for the better. you have introduced me to someone who makes me feel like i’m on cloud 9.” THE CAMERA PANS TO MAX??? “i know we joke and what not, but… i don’t know, just…thank you for making me feel like family.” TEARS ARE STREAMING DOWN MY FACE “i love you both so much,” I CRIED, CHARLES CRIED, EVERYONE CRIED
user41: we will never get that amount of emotion from yn ever again
user42: i will enjoy it while it last
yoursistersuser: i did indeed marry an idiot.
yourusername: it’s okay tho! we still like him
charles_leclerc: awwwww 🥰🥰
user43: charles just ignoring the idiot part
user44: it’s been a good day. yn and max made itt official, charles got married, and the wedding was gorgeous
user45: f1 twt has never been so peaceful
user46; RIGHT??? everyone’s just celebrating the marriage
maxverstappen1: will we have a big wedding?
yourusername: absolutely not. unless charles plans it by himself, we’re getting married in a courthouse
charles_leclerc: are you serious? you’ll let me plan your wedding?
yourusername: you proved yourself with this wedding so yes
charles_leclerc: AHHHHHH OMG OMG OMG I HAVE TO GET STARTED
user47: first it started with him trying to get her a bf, now he’s planning her wedding
user48: i feel like a proud mom watching her kids grow up 😢
. . .
notes; pls pls pls send me blurb or smau request!! i have 2 weeks left of vacation and i must make the most of it
summary: fans (and friends) are shocked when they find max is married and to who
a/n: I’m only a casual gamer so take it with a grain of salt
a/n 2: sorry it’s a really late - the weather hates me personally (it is actually September and doesn’t need to be 85* 😡) and it drained my creativity also I got hella sick so 🤷🏻♀️
a/n 3: I know I use the name Twitter when talking about that site. I’ll stop deadnaming it when musk rat does too
a/n 4: still not feeling 100% but I wanted to get this out for max’s bday!!
catpawsgaming
Welcome to the CatTree with the paw prints 🐾 ! I’m just a cat 🐈 mom Lady™ who loves the gaming but not the camera 📷. I’ve been playing games all my life and have been streaming for 3 years — as a hobby, not a full time job. I love my 2 cats, my handsome man, and you 🫵 all my lovely fans. You most definitely make all this worthwhile so mwah mwah 💋💋 (video)
catpawsgaming
liked by user, user, user, and 6,583,455 others
catpawsgaming: here we go! Baldur’s Gate 3 has been highly highly requested — so I bought it! …yesterday and forgot about it cause curse of capitalism I still have my day job 😭 but away we go!
As always, if you didn’t manage to catch my livestream it’ll be on my page and I’ll be uploading it to my YouTube channel tomorrow! My YouTube will have the 3 usual versions (one unedited with my reactions, one with just the game play, and one with no sound at all but with closed captions)
Next stream date and game tbh announced but will probably be this Sunday with Animal Crossing (fingers crossed 🤞🤞 I finally get a good turnip price 😭😭 Daisy Mae hasn’t been kind to me lately…)
view all comments
user1: guuuurrrrrrrllll it’s about time you got bg3! We been waiting
↳ catpawsgaming: definitely worth the wait though! I had so much fun and it was so hard to stop for the night
↳ user2: for sure it was 🤣 your reactions to shadowheart and astarion were hilarious
↳ catpawsgaming: they clocked my type on point
user3: glad we convinced you to become a bard! You’ll rock it 💙
↳ catpawsgaming: ok but this the closest you will get me to actually performing so enjoy it while it lasts
↳ user3: not gonna sing along?
↳ catpawsgaming: 🤣🤣🤣 🫵 🤡
↳ catpawsgaming: absolutely not.
↳ catpawsgaming: also handsome just bust out laughing at the thought of me singing so…🙄🙄🙄 he’s lucky I love him
↳ handsome: I am very lucky liefje
↳ user3: ahhhh we were so close to her singing but also awwww cause handsome is here!!
handsome: liefje this was amazing
↳ catpawsgaming: thank you 🥰🥰
↳ catpawsgaming: but also you were laughing at me the entire night so…
↳ catpawsgaming: not sure how much I believe you
↳ handsome: well I didn’t say it was good…
↳ catpawsgaming: 🤨😒😔😢
↳ handsome: 🥰🥰🥰
user4: oh to have a man that will spend hours with you doing separate hobbies together…
↳ catpawsgaming: gotta admit it’s the dream
↳ handsome: you’re the dream liefje
↳ user4: ok there handsome, no need to get sappy here on MY comment thread
Private Messages
mv1updates
liked by user, user, user, and 2,833,736 others
mv1updates: Max was streaming today! Just a short one but highly entertaining. Jimmy (or Sassy? I’m honestly baffled and for the life of me can’t tell them apart 😢) caused a small disturbance in the middle of his stream then slept the rest away in Max’s lap 😍
view all comments
user5: that was sooooo adorable!! Love seeing more cat dad Max
↳ user6: same! And don’t feel bad admin - I can’t tell them apart either
user7: to be Jimmy…🥵
↳ user8: right? What I wouldn’t give to be sleeping away in his lap…
↳ user9: blessed be. His damn thighs man 😳
user10: ok but am I the only one that heard a female voice in the background?
↳ user11: I THOUGHT I WAS GOING INSANE?? Like there was definitely someone there
↳ user12: wait when?
↳ user10: when max turned the camera to show jimmy on top
Private Messages
catpawsgaming
liked by user, user, user, and 5,822,944 others
catpawsgaming: and Daisy Mae delivered this week! Sunday I got a price of 90 and today!! Selling price of turnips is 658 this evening!! Woohoo!
I've got my usual set up going to allow visitors to sell and I’ll be playing for about 4 or 5 hours so let’s make some cash today! I just ask you be respectful of my island.
As always, if you didn’t manage to catch my livestream it’ll be on my page and I’ll be uploading it to my YouTube channel tomorrow! My YouTube will have the 3 usual versions (one unedited with my reactions, one with just the game play, and one with no sound at all but with closed captions)
My week is looking pretty busy (a lot of traveling happening) so my next stream will probably be sometime next week and I’ll be playing Horizon: Zero Dawn! Its sequel will be coming out soon and I want to replay the first to refamiliarize myself with the game!
view all comments
user13: yeessssss! I’ve been holding out that someone would have some fantastic selling prices this week! New house upgrade here I come!
↳ user14: oh don’t I know it! It’s been a downward slump all week for me — the high was 105 😭😭
↳ user13: ouch 🤕
user15: did anyone else hear the cat meowing in the background!
↳ user16: yes! Catpaws has got a couple of cats — they’re almost never on stream (they don’t like staying in one place for long) but catpaws got them right before they started streaming!
↳ catpawsgaming: 2 of them! They’re my babies! 🐈🐈
↳ user15: awwwww 😍😍
user17: can I say something? Is this a safe place?
↳ user18: it is not but say it anyway
↳ user17: it totally looks like she’s got a wedding ring on in the beginning of this stream
↳ user18: nurse! She’s out again
↳ user19: no no no let her cook. I totally thought the same. It was literally just a glimpse but I swear that she had a ring on
↳ user17: thank you! I knew I wasn’t crazy
↳ user19: but! That does mean our catpaws is married!!!!!
↳ user17: 😱
↳ user18: 😱
↳ user19: 😱
↳ catpawsgaming: 😉
↳ handsome: 💙
↳ user17: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?
catpawsupdates
liked by user, user, user, and 3,126,918 others
catpawsupdates: we’ve had a couple of requests lately asking about catpawsgaming and her cats! These are the first and last photo we’ve gotten — she’s incredibly secretive about them so we don’t know if this is the same cat in both photos or if she has 2 bengals (peep also handsome in the first photo. Catpaws was laughing when she posted that photo cause she’s usually the passenger princess)
view all comments
user20: I LOVE THEM
↳ user21: same! Insert that meme. “I’ve only had them for a day but if anything happened to them I kill everyone else then myself”
↳ user22: extreme but agreeable.
user23: that’s sassy - I’d bet money on it
↳ user24: sassy? What? Who?
↳ user23: sassy verstappen! F1 world champion max verstappen’s cat
↳ user24: ummm? This is a page for a small time gamer catpawsgaming
↳ user23: listen. Torture couldn’t get me to admit how long I’ve spent staring at pictures and videos of jimmy and sassy. But that is absolutely sassy!
↳ user17: I’m connecting the dots as I type
↳ user18: you’re not connecting shit
↳ user17: CONNECTING THE DOTS AS I TYPE
Private Messages
Twitter
Private Messages
catpawsgaming
liked by user, user, user, and 3,712,222 others
catpawsgaming: tonight’s stream is gonna be a little late — I’m currently being held hostage by the cutest kidnapper ever
view all comments
user24: awwww
user25: your right. You simply can’t move!
↳ catpawsgaming: completely pinned down!
↳ user25: I don’t think anyone is gonna have a problem with your steam being late tonight
↳ user26: I’ve spoken to the council and we don’t! In fact we all vote for a stream of literally just the cat
↳ catpawsgaming:…you know that is an idea
↳ user26: omg. OMG. OH MY GOD!!
user23: THATS JIMMY!! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE
↳ user27: ok grandma. Let’s get you back to bed
handsome: so that’s where the little troublemaker is
↳ user28: omg hi handsome! Where’ve you been?
↳ catpawsgaming: ok I love all my fans but plz stop flirting with my man
↳ user28: can I flirt with you instead?
↳ catpawsgaming: 😳
↳ handsome: no
Private Messages
Twitter
user29: ITS MAX VERSTAPPEN AND CATPAWSGAMING!!!! I TOLD YOU ALL
↳ user30: ok but are we really gonna take a gossip page as the truth?
user31: OH MY GOD THAT CRAZY FAN WAS RIGHT?!?
↳ catpawsgamingfan: I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOOOOUUUUU
view all comments
maxverstappen1
liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 8,345,765 others
tagged: yourusername
maxverstappen1: liefje I know this is not how we wanted to share our love with the world but a light in the darkness is now I get to talk about how much I love you and how you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. These past 5 years have been a dream come true — and it’s been a dream I never knew I had. Seeing you that first time, you took my breath away. Forget the trophies and the victories, the world championships and titles I’ve won — becoming your husband has topped every single one of them. I can’t imagine my life without you anymore and I wouldn’t ever want to
comments have been restricted on this post
yourusername: oh my handsome man…you are the light of my life, the moon in my night, the stars in the sky, the best husband ever and the most loving cat dad I could have ever wanted to spend my life with. Thank you thank you thank you for picking me and staying with me and fighting for me and with me 💋💋
