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CONFLICT OF INTEREST - MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N has spent her entire life trying to prove that she is more than her last name. She's brilliant, ambitious, and determined to succeed on her own merits. Then there’s Max Verstappen; difficult, demanding, and impossible to please. What begins as a constant battle of wills slowly turns into something far more sentimental, making him both her greatest challenge and the one person she can never quite ignore.

As careers take off, secrets come to light, and family expectations clash with personal ambitions, Y/N finds herself torn between the future she always planned for and the one she never saw coming.

WORD COUNT: 14K

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“Girls like you don’t study engineering.”

Those were the words my father said the moment I told him about the plans I had for my future.

You see, people like us didn’t work in factorys. We bought them, financed them, or inherited them. But we never got our hands dirty inside them.

My father held firmly to that philosophy, and it was even worse when it came to me—the only daughter and the youngest of his six children.

From the moment I opened my eyes to the world, he had already decided what my life was supposed to look like. It was an almost universal truth, an unwritten rule that seemed to be part of some secret handbook of the high society in which I was raised.

Girls like me organize galas, inherit fortunes, make sure they always look perfect, and marry wealthy, influential men.

Girls like me don’t go to university to study engineering, only to end up working in a world built by men and for men.

The problem, to my father's dismay, was that I had inherited my mother’s rebellious spirit and never took no for an answer once I had made up my mind.

That was how, after months of arguments, tears, and shouting matches, he finally gave me his blessing to study Industrial Engineering—which, in his opinion, was the least terrible of all my options.

University flew by in the blink of an eye. Although it was demanding, I managed to stand out thanks to both my intelligence and my discipline. I had the privilege of studying without financial pressure, and I made the most of every opportunity that came my way.

Just when my father thought I had finally gotten my little rebellion out of my system and would return home to settle into a life of leisure, I made another decision he absolutely hated: specializing in Sports Data Analytics.

And that is how I ended up landing an internship with the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team.

Yes, much to my family’s dismay, I had managed to throw myself headfirst into yet another world dominated by men.

“I don’t understand what a girl like you is doing working in a place like this.”

Louis’s words, one of the team’s senior interns, served as my official welcome.

“A girl like me?” I repeated, inviting him to elaborate on exactly what he meant.

“Yeah. You’re so young, so pretty…” He shrugged as though he were stating an obvious fact. “You belong on a runway or standing next to some billionaire.”

“Wow. I haven’t heard that much sexism packed into a single sentence in a long time.”

I frowned at him, and for the first time since he’d opened his mouth, he seemed to realize how his words sounded. A faint blush spread across his cheeks.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure you’re brilliant at what you do. I just meant that—”

“Don’t work so hard trying to explain yourself, Louis. Instead of questioning Y/N, get your ass up and help Alex back there.” Bono’s voice cut through whatever excuse Louis had been scrambling to come up with.

Judging by the immediate look of relief on his face, the interruption was exactly the lifeline he needed. Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of his chair and headed toward Alex’s workstation.

“Y/N, come with me. I’ll show you where you’ll be working and introduce you to the rest of the team.” Bono motioned for me to follow him.

The moment I stood up, my stomach twisted into knots.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he said as we made our way through the garage. “We work pretty well together around here. Besides, we warned everyone ahead of time that they were expected to treat you with respect. We don’t get many young ladies like you around here, and we were worried some of them might start acting like they're part of a pack of dogs.”

Bono let out a laugh, and I couldn’t help laughing quietly along with him.

As we walked, he pointed out different work areas and explained the things I needed to know to navigate life within the team.

When we finally reached the station where I’d be working, everyone greeted me warmly. There were smiles, handshakes, and friendly introductions.

Still, beneath every greeting, I sensed something else. Some looked at me with genuine curiosity. Others watched me with an interest that went far beyond professional courtesy—an interest they weren’t quite able to hide.

I felt like a rabbit that had wandered straight into a wolf’s den.

The next few weeks of settling in flew by. I was so busy with work that I barely had time to sit down and eat. The season had only recently come to an end, but the work never stopped. Mercedes wanted Kimi’s team operating at one hundred percent before the next season, and that meant long hours for everyone involved.

As exhausted as I was, I also felt a kind of happiness I couldn’t quite put into words. My dreams were finally becoming reality. And yes, my father’s money had undoubtedly made things easier for me, but I also had to give myself some credit and acknowledge the hard work and discipline that had brought me here.

The problem came later. Because, like everything else in life, it couldn’t be perfect forever. Eventually, all that happiness was replaced by something else entirely, sorrow.

Hermann was one of Mercedes’ longest-serving engineers and a complete jerk.

At least, that was my opinion. To everyone else on the team, he was simply an intense man who could be a little too persistent at times.

In my vocabulary, that translated to stalker.

He had been on vacation during my first month with the team, so he had no idea I even existed. But the moment he came back and saw me for the first time, his eyes lit up as if he’d found water in the middle of the desert.

From that point on, he seemed to have made getting a date with me the primary objective of his life.

“I noticed you like ice cream. Would you like to grab some after work?”

That was his first attempt.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m trying to cut back on sugar.”

“What about going bowling this Saturday?” That was his second attempt a few days later.

“My father is visiting all week, so I can’t. Sorry.”

“Would you like to go to the movies tomorrow? I heard you like science fiction, and there are a couple of films I’m sure you’d love.” That was the third.

“Thanks, Hermann, but I already have plans with some friends.”

Every single one of those excuses was a blatant lie. My father wouldn’t set foot in Brackley even if someone handed him half of the New York Stock Exchange. And the truth was, I hadn’t made a single friend there yet.

They were simply excuses to get him off my back. The problem was that Hermann either couldn’t understand them or understood them perfectly and had simply decided to ignore them.

For weeks, he kept trying.

Lunch invitations. Coffee invitations. Suggestions to go somewhere after work. He always found a new excuse to approach me and I always found a new way to turn him down.

Until one day, I ran out of patience.

I’d spent hours trying to solve an issue on my computer and was so frustrated that I felt like the slightest thing could set me off. Of course, that was exactly when Hermann showed up.

“Would you like to go—”

I didn’t let him finish.

“No, Hermann.”

The words came out sharper than I intended.

He blinked in surprise. For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed completely lost for words.

“Look, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I think you’re brilliant at what you do, and I’m sure your intentions are good, but I’m not interested in dating you. And I’m not interested in dating anyone who works here, either. I don’t want to mix my personal life with my job. I appreciate that you’ve been kind to me, but I need you to stop insisting.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I didn’t even bother to see how he reacted. I simply gathered my things, shut my laptop, and walked out of the room.

I knew that rejecting him wouldn’t simply make him back off. What I hadn’t expected was for him to launch a smear campaign worthy of a public relations agency.

A few days after our confrontation, I started hearing whispers around the factory floor. At first, they weren’t particularly scandalous. But rumors rarely stay small for long, and before I knew it, things began spiraling out of control.

One person would tell a story to someone else, who would add a few extra details before passing it on. Then that person would embellish it even further.

By the end of it, I had somehow become a social-climbing slut who had slept with half the board of directors to get a job at Mercedes.

Or at least, that was what I overheard one day before walking into the cafeteria. Two coworkers were sitting at a table, quietly discussing exactly that. The moment they noticed me, they fell silent.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing?” one of them asked with an awkward smile, clearly trying to gauge whether I had heard anything.

“I’m doing great, thanks.” I didn’t even bother smiling.

Under different circumstances, I would have asked him the same question in return. But I despise hypocrisy, and I wasn’t about to be pleasant to someone who was perfectly comfortable spreading that kind of garbage about me.

I walked over to the coffee machine and poured myself a cup. I needed the warmth to chase away the coldness I had been feeling from my coworkers lately.

“How are you, Y/N?” Bono walked into the room and greeted me, grabbing a cup for himself.

“I’m good. How about you?” I replied, offering him a small smile.

“Excellent. How have your last few weeks with the team been?” he asked before taking a sip of coffee.

“Good. Although I’ve discovered a few unexpected things.”

“Like what?” Bono frowned, intrigued.

“That Mercedes isn’t just good at building race cars. Apparently, they’re also very talented at creating entirely new lives for people.” I said it loudly enough for the two idiots sitting a few meters away to hear every word.

Bono nearly choked on his coffee before bursting into laughter.

“And you haven’t seen anything yet.”

As it turned out, he was right.

I hadn’t yet discovered just how far people were willing to take their rumors. Over the following months, I decided to channel the Slavic genes of my ancestors and freeze my heart solid.

The gossip never stopped. But it never affected my performance, either. If anything, it made me even more disciplined. No one could question whether I belonged there, I had earned my place.

It wasn’t until my internship ended that I finally allowed myself to step out of the emotional bunker my mind had built when everything started.

Then I fell apart.

I cried over everything and nothing. I questioned whether I truly wanted to continue down this path. Whether I genuinely deserved to be there. Whether I was taking opportunities away from people who deserved them more than I did.

For several weeks, I seriously considered staying home and doing absolutely nothing. I moved back into my father’s house, where I was welcomed with all the ceremony reserved for visiting royalty.

His baby girl had come home and from his perspective, she was there to stay. The problem was that I wasn’t completely happy there anymore and that confused my father.

“I don’t understand why you’re so unhappy,” he told me one afternoon. “You have everything you could possibly need here, and you don’t have to tolerate being mistreated by anyone.” He was trying his best to pull me out of my lethargy.

But it wasn’t enough. I had already experienced the freedom that came with independence. I’d tasted what it felt like to build something for myself and work in a field I genuinely loved. Giving that up was making me miserable.

“I know,” I said. “But I don’t want one bad experience to take away my dream of doing more with my career. Besides, I liked working there. The only bad part was my coworkers.”

My father let out a long, pained sigh. Slowly resigning himself to the fact that it was apparently impossible to keep me inside his overprotective bubble forever.

“Fine. At least let me do something to help.” For the first time, he finally relented.

“Like what?” I asked suspiciously.

“I’m going to make a few phone calls and see if I can help you get back to work.”

“Dad…” The warning was immediate.

“Yes, yes.” He raised both hands in surrender. “I know. You don’t want me interfering. You want to earn everything on your own merit. But come on, I’m your father. Let me help you with this.” His eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement.

And because I was every bit as weak for him as he was for me, I eventually gave in.

For the next two hours, he locked himself inside his office. All I could hear were muffled conversations in French. Then he finally emerged.

“Done.”

“What?” I searched his face for some clue as to what he had just done.

“You have a position with another team.”

“What?” I repeated, completely stunned.

Looking back, I don’t know why I was surprised. My father owned shares in a ridiculous number of companies that sponsored teams across the paddock. Pulling strings like this should have been the least surprising thing in the world.

“Yes,” he said casually. “I spoke to an acquaintance.”

He didn’t seem remotely impressed by his own accomplishment.

“As soon as you’re ready, you’ll be starting at Red Bull.”

(…)

The first time Max Verstappen spoke to me, I thought he was an asshole. When he wanted to criticize someone, he didn’t even bother pretending to be polite about it. He went straight for the throat.

“Being new doesn’t exempt you from being called out for your mistakes. You’d think a little girl like you, educated at Stanford, would be smart enough to realize what she’s doing is wrong.” His face was set in a hard expression as he looked over the report in front of him.

How the hell did he know where I had studied? I hadn’t the faintest idea.

“Those were the instructions I was given—” I didn’t even get to finish before he cut me off.

“No, those are the instructions Esteban follows. That doesn’t automatically make them correct.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.” I crossed my arms.

I knew arguing with one of the people who was effectively my boss wasn’t the smartest decision. Normally, I would have tried to de-escalate the situation. But there was something about him that made it impossible. It was as if his face was personally inviting me to punch him.

“Of course it makes sense. You just don’t understand it, which is why you keep doing everything wrong.” The stack of papers in his hand hit the table separating us with a sharp slap.

My mouth fell open in outrage. What a miserable bastard.

“What’s going on here?” A voice carrying a faint French accent interrupted the argument.

I turned around and found myself face-to-face with none other than Laurent Mekies.

“Max, it’s the young lady’s first week here. Don’t be so hard on her.” Mekies was defending me or at least trying to.

“You told me she already had experience with this,” Max replied. “But right now she looks like she only found out what performance metrics are yesterday.” Max dropped heavily into his chair and rubbed a hand over his face in frustration.

I stayed silent. Because I knew that if I opened my mouth, something would come out that I would almost certainly regret.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Y/N.”

My attention shifted back to Mekies.

“You have your father’s eyes.” As he spoke, he gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze and smiled in recognition.

To anyone else, it would have sounded like a simple compliment. For people in my world, mentioning my father was another way of saying: I know who you are.

The realization made me swallow hard. It suddenly became painfully obvious who my father had called in to secure me this job.

“Thank you,” was all I managed to say.

Mekies gave my shoulder a friendly pat before turning back toward Max.

“I’ll move her over to work with Isack. That way you won’t have to deal with her inexperience.”

“No.” The answer came instantly. “I want her to stay.”

Both Mekies and I stared at him.

“It’s less painful dealing with her than with whoever they’ll send to replace her.”

I looked at him in complete disbelief. Less than five minutes ago he’d practically called me incompetent. Now he didn’t want me moved to the other side of the garage.

“Good.” Mekies clapped his hands once. “In that case, try to get along. We don’t have much time before the new season starts, and we can’t afford mistakes. Y/N, make yourself at home. Max, be nice to her.”

Max responded with a dismissive wave of his hand that made Mekies laugh as he walked out of the room.

“Well…” I tried, mostly to fill the awkward silence.

“Do it again.” Max slid the papers across the table toward me. “I need it to be perfect. There can’t be any mistakes.”

I let out a quiet sigh, picked up the report, and headed for the door. It was already obvious that Max was going to be a nightmare to deal with and if I wanted to keep this job, I’d have to work twice as hard as everyone else.

The challenge didn’t scare me. I had been raised by five brothers and a father who were sharks in tailored suits.

A little lion wasn’t going to shake me.

The following weeks were brutal. Actually, brutal was putting it mildly, they were downright exhausting.

Max was never satisfied with anything, and he had developed a particular habit of pointing out every single one of my mistakes in front of the rest of the team.

He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t patient. He was so much harsher with me than with anyone else, so much that several members of the team had openly commented on it. Apparently, I was the only person he treated that way.

Unfortunately, his constant criticism seemed to give certain people permission to unload their own frustrations on me as well. Most notably, a bitch named Marianne.

Marianne was pushing forty and, for reasons known only to herself, seemed deeply unhappy about my sudden addition to the team.

“Are you sure you studied at Stanford? I went there too, and you don’t really seem like the kind of girl who would.” Her gaze swept over me from head to toe.

If her goal was to embarrass me, she failed miserably. I had grown up surrounded by men who were the human equivalent of sharks. But I had also been raised around women who could rival vipers and hyenas. Her little attempt at asserting superiority wasn’t going to work on me.

“Really? That’s interesting.” I smiled sweetly. “I think the student profile changed quite a bit after you graduated. But then again, that was a very, very long time ago, so I can understand why you might not be aware of that.”

The look on her face was priceless. For a moment, several emotions flashed across it in rapid succession. In the end, she simply offered me a smile that was just as fake as mine before walking off toward another area of the factory.

“Don’t pay too much attention to her. She got divorced recently because her husband cheated on her, and ever since then she’s been a little weird whenever she sees someone younger than her being just as successful.”

A female voice interrupted my moment of satisfaction. I turned to find a woman approaching me.

“My name’s Carla. I’m a mechanical engineer, but I work on Isack’s side of the garage, which is probably why we haven’t met yet.” We shook hands.

“Y/N.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” There was amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’ve heard you’re driving Verstappen completely insane.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a long sigh.

“And he’s driving me insane too.”

Carla laughed.

“That's a good thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Max has two settings. He’s either ignoring you completely or acting like you’ve personally offended him by existing.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“That sounds about right.”

“The good news is that if he’s constantly criticizing you, it means he’s paying attention.”

“The good news?” I repeated incredulously.

“Trust me. If Max genuinely thought you were useless, he wouldn’t waste his breath on you.”

I stared at her.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Not really.” Carla grinned. “But it is true.”

At first, I didn’t take Carla’s words too seriously. Mostly because they made absolutely no sense to me.

How could you treat someone like crap if you genuinely believed they were useful? The logic simply didn’t compute.

The weeks leading up to the start of the season were demanding, but at least Max had eased up on his strange dictator routine. That, in turn, allowed me to relax a little and do my job without feeling like I was being evaluated every second of the day. That lasted right up until a week before the season opener.

“Get your paperwork ready. You’re coming to Australia with us.”

The announcement came out of nowhere.

“What?” It was the only response my brain could produce.

“Are you deaf now? You heard me. Human Resources will send you a list of everything you need before we leave.”

He gave me one final glance before walking away.

Just like that. I sat there in a daze for several minutes.

According to my contract, my position was supposed to be based permanently in Milton Keynes. I wasn’t meant to travel with the team.

So the first chance I got, I asked Mekies about the sudden change.

“I know it’s not what was originally agreed,” he admitted. “But it’s a decision based on operational needs.”

And just like that, I found myself embarking on a journey of more than twenty-four hours to Australia.

Truthfully, I was thrilled. Everything felt new. I’d attended a Grand Prix before as a spectator. The environment wasn’t unfamiliar, but it was my first time experiencing it from the inside.

My excitement lasted exactly until the race started.

With fifteen laps remaining, the data began showing an unusual pattern. At first, I assumed it was a system error, so I checked everything again. Then I checked it a third time.

The rear brake temperatures were climbing faster than expected, and the tire degradation wasn’t matching any of the pre-race simulations.

My stomach tightened.

“Can you take a look at this?” I turned my monitor toward one of the strategy engineers.

He barely glanced away from his screen.

“What is it now?”

“The numbers don’t make sense. There’s almost a twelve-percent deviation from the projected models.”

His eyes lingered on the graph for less than three seconds.

“It’s noise.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“No?”

I shook my head immediately.

“Y/N, relax. I’m telling you it’s fine.”

I wanted to insist. I really did, but he’d already gone back to ignoring me.

I looked around for support. Nobody seemed concerned, so Ibreturned to my workstation and tried convincing myself that maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was seeing problems where none existed.

Five laps later, the pattern got worse.

“Hey.” I caught his attention again.

“What now?”

“It’s increasing.”

This time, he didn’t even look at the screen.

“Drop it.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of my desk.

“We should report it.”

“And tell them what exactly?”

“That something isn’t performing the way it should.”

“Based on the gut feeling of a rookie?”

The muted laughter of two nearby engineers made me lower my eyes.

I didn’t bring it up again. And exactly as I’d feared—Three laps later, Max’s car began losing performance. One lap after that, he was forced to retire.

Silence fell over the garage.

The kind of silence that only happens when everyone realizes something has gone catastrophically wrong.

When the car finally returned to the pit lane, Max climbed out of the cockpit with his helmet still on.

He looked absolutely furious.

“What the hell happened?”

Nobody answered.

“Did nobody see this coming?”

His gaze swept across the garage, then landed directly on me.

“What the fuck do I pay you for if you’re not going to watch the damn data?” The shout was so loud the entire garage froze.

“I did see it.” The words came out before I could stop them. “And I reported it.”

“Well, obviously not well enough.” Max ripped off his helmet in one sharp motion.

“I warned them twice.”

The entire garage fell silent.

“I showed them the data. I explained that the temperatures were outside the expected range. I told them the simulations weren’t matching reality.”

“I don’t believe a damn word of that.” The accusation hit like a slap.

Months of frustration surged up my throat.

“Of course you don’t.” My voice shook. “That’s exactly the problem. You think I’m an idiot, and you’ve made sure everyone else thinks so too.”

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

“You treat me like I’m incompetent every chance you get, and because of that nobody takes me seriously when I actually have something important to say.”

The silence somehow became even heavier. Max simply stared at me, his jaw clenched tight, trying—and failing—to hide his anger.

I’d had enough. Without another word, I turned around and walked out of the garage.

Fifteen minutes later, I was crying alone in a small hospitality room. I’d cried so hard that my eyes felt swollen and my nose was completely blocked. Every time I thought I was finally calming down, another sob escaped me.

My shirt was damp from wiping away tears and my hair clung messily to my face. I looked pathetic.

But my appearance was the last thing on my mind. The ache in my chest occupied every corner of my thoughts.

Was this really worth it? Was it worth letting people trample over my dignity just to keep this job? For the first time, I wasn’t sure of the answer.

Maybe my father had been right all along. Maybe I hadn’t been made for this world and it was time to stop pretending to be some ambitious career woman and return to the life that had always been waiting for me back home.

A soft knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. Immediately, I forced myself to stop crying and wiped my face with the sleeve of my already soaked sweater.

“Come in.” I didn’t bother looking up, my gaze remained fixed on the floor.

My long dark hair acted like a curtain, hiding my swollen face from whoever had just entered the room.

I heard footsteps. A few seconds later, someone sat down beside me.

“Gianpiero confirmed what happened.” The slightly raspy voice made me tense immediately. Max.

Of all the people in the garage, he was the last person I expected to come looking for me. I remained silent, waiting for him to say whatever he had come here to say.

“I know I can be an asshole sometimes.”

A dry laugh almost escaped me at the understatement.

“It’s how I’ve learned to survive in this environment. If you’re not tough, people walk all over you. But…” He paused. “I have to admit I was wrong for taking it out on you.”

I remained in silence, again.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

My silence answered for me. Max let out an incredulous breath through his nose.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to act like such an idiot.”

I turned toward him so abruptly that my hair fell away from my face, exposing the full extent of the damage. The red eyes, swollen cheeks and blotchy skin from crying.

For a split second, genuine surprise crossed his face. As if he hadn’t expected to find me looking quite so devastated.

“I accept your apology.” My voice was flat. “Now leave me alone.”

A full minute passed and he didn’t move.

“Y/N…” His voice was quieter this time. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

I stared at the opposite wall.

“You always seem so strong. So intimidating. Sometimes I forget I need to be more careful with the way I speak to you.”

That finally got my attention. I looked at him.

“Just because I act like a heartless bitch doesn’t mean I am one.” The firmness in my voice made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s just how I protect myself when people treat me badly.”

For the first time since entering the room, Max seemed genuinely uncomfortable. Maybe even a little guilty.

“Maybe I went too far today.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

A small laugh escaped me. Not because it was funny. Because it was absurd. We both knew that the moment this situation faded into the background, Max Verstappen would go right back to being Max Verstappen.

“It’s fine, Max.” I shook my head. “I already told you I accept your apology. You don’t need to keep talking about it.”

He released a long sigh and leaned back in his chair. The expression on his face looked suspiciously familiar. It was the same frustration I felt every time I tried having a conversation with him.

“Fine.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Wash your face and let’s go.”

I frowned.

“Go where?”

“Back to the garage.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Laurent is probably looking for me so he can hang me by my balls for yelling at you.”

The image caught me completely off guard. A genuine laugh escaped me and to my surprise, Max laughed too. For a moment, the tension between us eased. Just a little.

I followed his advice, cleaned myself up as best I could, and eventually walked back toward the garage with him. As we made our way through the paddock, I found myself hoping that after everything that had happened, things might finally get a little better between us.

(…)

To my surprise, my prayers were answered and just as I’d hoped, things started improving.

Max was noticeably more careful about how he spoke to me in public, although in private he remained just as demanding as ever. His justification was that he was doing it for my own good.

He didn’t want the rest of the team seeing me as someone fragile. He wanted them to see me as someone valuable. Someone the team actually needed. At first, I assumed it was just another excuse to justify his usual behavior. But when things started visibly improving with the rest of the team, I had no choice but to admit he had a point.

Apparently, seeing me cry had managed to crack his stone heart just a little. These days he was even… nice.

Which I didn’t mind. Unfortunately, Marianne did because her attacks became noticeably more frequent.

“That’s a lovely watch.” Marianne grabbed my wrist a little too firmly to inspect it before letting go just as abruptly. “It’s awfully luxurious for a fake, although, I highly doubt your salary here is enough to afford something like that.”

A few people nearby exchanged uncomfortable glances. Everyone understood exactly what she was implying and knew how inappropriate it was.

I simply smiled. Then said nothing. I’d discovered that silence was my most effective weapon against Marianne. Nothing frustrated her more than refusing to engage.

“Y/N.”

Both Marianne and I turned at the sound of Max’s voice.

“Come with me.”

I accepted the lifeline immediately. Without another word, I left Marianne standing there and followed Max down the corridor toward one of the quieter hospitality rooms.

The moment the door closed behind us, he turned toward me.

“Why do you let that idiot talk to you like that?” His irritation was immediate.

“Because I don’t want any more problems with anyone here.” I shrugged before taking a seat. “I just want to do my job and stay out of everyone’s drama.”

Max sat beside me, looking annoyed enough to punch a wall.

“I’m going to deal with it.”

“Max—”

“I can’t stand the way she behaves around you.”

“Max, it’s not worth it.” I crossed my arms. “And since when do you care so much about what happens to me?”

“Is empathy suddenly a crime?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “A few weeks ago you were yelling in my face about what an asshole I was, and now that I actually show concern, that’s wrong too?”

“I’m not saying it’s wrong.” I hesitated. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s not you.”

For a second, something unreadable crossed his face, then he looked away.

After that day, there were plenty of similar moments and I don’t mean Marianne continuing to be the world’s most irritating human being.

I mean Max. Max being considerate, being thoughtful. Sometimes, I could have sworn he was even…affectionate. The thought sounded ridiculous and yet it was true.

He brought me water when he noticed I’d been sitting at my desk for too long. If someone interrupted me during a meeting, he’d make them stop talking so I could finish my point. He paid special attention whenever I presented new findings.

It was like an entirely different version of Max had emerged. A version nobody had warned me about and while part of me was happy about it, another part was deeply suspicious.

Because mixed in with all those small acts of kindness were other things. The lingering glances, the shy smiles, his hand resting on my shoulder for a second longer than necessary, the way his eyes always seemed to find me in a crowded room.

I tried not to think too much about it, because every time I did, my heart sped up. Max was ridiculously attractive, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I loved my job, I loved the life I was building here.

And I knew myself well enough to admit one terrifying truth: If Max took even one more step toward me, I was going to fall for him like a complete idiot.

My fears became reality during the Canadian Grand Prix weekend.

A few of the engineers were gathered in the coffee area, getting ready for the Sprint Qualifying.

“Ready to head over?” Carla asked.

“Yeah, you can go ahead. I’m just going to the restroom and I’ll catch up.”

Carla nodded and left with the others.

I went to take care of my business, and when I returned to the coffee area, the only person there was Max.

“I thought you’d already be in the garage getting ready,” I said as I walked over to grab a glass of water.

“I should be.” He lifted the coffee cup in his hand. “But I came to get some caffeine first.”

I was about to say something else when my hip slammed into the sharp corner of a table. A pained hiss escaped my lips immediately.

“You okay?” Max didn’t wait for an answer before stepping closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The lingering pain was still obvious in my voice as I pressed a hand against the sore spot.

“Let me see.”

Before I could protest, Max placed his hand lightly over my hip and rubbed the area in small circles.

My heart immediately skipped a beat. Not only because of the warmth of his hand, but because of how close he suddenly was. Apparently, Max noticed it too.

Without stopping the gentle motion, his eyes lifted to meet mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

“It looks like that hurt,” he murmured.

“Yeah…” It was the only word I managed to get out.

I realized I was holding my breath. So was he. The tension between us was so thick it felt tangible. My gaze drifted down for the briefest second toward his lips and that seemed to be all the encouragement Max needed.

He closed the distance between us and kissed me. For a moment, surprise froze me in place. Then Max’s hand slid slightly higher along my side, and whatever resistance I might have had disappeared completely.

I kissed him back. My eyes fluttered shut as the world around us seemed to fade into the background. The kiss deepened naturally, neither of us willing to be the first to pull away.

Eventually, reality intervened when voices echoed down the hallway. Someone was approaching. We broke apart so quickly it was almost comical.

A member of the marketing team walked into the room and froze for half a second, clearly not expecting anyone to be there. After a brief moment of confusion, he continued toward the coffee station as if nothing had happened.

I pressed a hand against my mouth, still trying to process what had just occurred. Slowly, I turned to look at Max. He looked just as stunned as I felt.

“I should go.” My voice came out rougher than usual.

Without waiting for a response, I turned and practically fled from the room.

(…)

The following days turned into a silent competition over who could ignore the other more effectively. We barely spoke and whenever a conversation drifted away from strictly professional matters, my face would turn red while Max suddenly forgot how to form complete sentences. It was ridiculous.

Montreal ended with a victory for Max, and almost immediately afterward the team packed up and headed to Monaco.

Most people considered Monaco one of the least exciting races on the calendar. I couldn’t have disagreed more. Not because of the racing, for me, it was personal.

My father never missed the Monaco Grand Prix. For him, it was an opportunity to keep an eye on his F1 investments while spending time with his billionaire friends. For me, it was a chance to see him.

My schedule with the team had been so packed that we hadn’t had the opportunity to meet in person for months. We spoke almost every day, but eventually phone calls stop being enough. Sometimes you just need a hug.

The opportunity came on Thursday evening. We met at an expensive restaurant overlooking the harbor.

Not particularly discreet. Although during Monaco week, discretion practically ceased to exist.

“So,” my father said as he set down his wine glass, “how’s the team treating you? I spoke to Laurent a few days ago. He congratulated me on having such a brilliant daughter.”

His eyes lit up with pride, a broad smile spread across his face.

“Good, Dad. The workload is intense, but I’ve been happy.” I smiled back, feeling a familiar pang of nostalgia.

Moments like this reminded me of when I was younger. Back when he’d celebrate every achievement as if I’d personally solved world hunger.

We’d had our disagreements over the years. Plenty of them, but at the end of the day, we were still each other’s safe place.

“It pains me to admit it,” he continued, “but seeing everything you’ve accomplished on your own makes me incredibly proud.”

The compliment settled uneasily in my chest. I didn’t let it show.

Yes, I had worked hard to stay here, I’d earned my place. But pretending my father’s influence hadn’t helped open doors would have been laughably dishonest.

When dinner ended, he drove me back to the hotel where I was staying. We said our goodbyes in the lobby.

The following days passed in a blur and before I knew it, Sunday had arrived.

I was searching for something to eat in the hospitality area when a familiar voice called my name.

“Y/N.”

A hand settled lightly on my shoulder.

“Kimi!” The excitement in my voice surprised even me.

He laughed and pulled me into a hug, which I immediately returned.

Kimi was one of the few genuinely good things I’d taken away from my time at Mercedes. Seeing him always made me happy.

“How have you been?” he asked. “How’s Red Bull treating you?” His curious brown eyes studied me carefully.

“Pretty well, what about you? Looks like this season’s been treating you a lot better than the last one.” I squeezed his shoulder lightly.

A shy smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah. Although I think I’d be doing even better if you were still on my side of the garage.”

I laughed.

“So that’s why you miss me.”

“Exactly.”

We talked for a few more minutes before saying goodbye with kisses on both cheeks.

“See you soon, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Kimi” I waved as he disappeared into the sea of people moving through the paddock.

A smile lingered on my face.

“Looks like Mercedes misses you.” The deep voice behind me nearly made me jump.

I turned.

Max. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there.

“What?”

“Your old teammate.” He shrugged. “He seemed pretty happy to see you.”

I frowned slightly.

“Kimi has always been nice to me.”

“Must be nice.” There was something strange in his tone. Something I couldn’t quite identify.

“Did you need something?”

“No.”

Then why was he still standing there?

Max glanced toward the direction Kimi had disappeared.

“Do you two talk a lot?” The question caught me off guard.

“Sometimes.”

“Mhm.” There it was again. That tone.

“Is something wrong?” I asked carefully.

“No.” Definitely. Something was wrong.

“Well…” I hesitated. “He was one of the few people who actually helped me when I first arrived at Mercedes.”

Max’s jaw tightened.

“Right.”

“Right what?”

“Nothing.”

My confusion only grew.

“Max.”

“What?”

“You’re being weird.” I crossed my arms.

“Weird?”

“Yes.”

A humorless smile tugged at his lips.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize personality analysis had become part of your job description.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Forget it.” I turned and started walking toward the garage.

“Are you seeing him later?”

I stopped.

“What?”

“Kimi.”

I turned around.

“No.”

“Oh.” That tone again. The answer seemed to please him far more than it should have.

“I genuinely don’t understand why you’re so interested.”

For the first time, he appeared to realize what he was doing. His expression hardened immediately.

“I’m not.”

“Then stop asking.”

For several seconds neither of us spoke. Finally, Max let out a short, dry laugh.

“Fair enough.” Then he simply walked away.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, completely baffled. Because that had not been a normal conversation. Not even close.

Later that afternoon, Max won the race. He drove like a man trying to prove a point. For a circuit like Monaco, he took far more risks than necessary, which nearly gave me a heart attack.

When he finally returned to the garage after all the podium ceremonies and media obligations, his eyes immediately found mine.

And then he smiled. One of those strange, unreadable smiles that seemed to contain information nobody else had access to.

Max had been acting differently ever since that kiss.

And honestly? I had absolutely no idea what to do with that. So I went back to the strategy that had worked so well before our conversation about Kimi.

I ignored him.

Because I was nowhere near emotionally stable enough to start dissecting whatever the hell was going on inside Max Verstappen’s head.

(…)

The next day, we made a technical stop in Milton Keynes before traveling to Barcelona.

There were a few adjustments that needed to be made to the car, and they had to be done at the factory. We were working against the clock if we wanted everything ready before Spain.

Which meant, according to Laurent, that we would all be working straight through. By nine o’clock that night, I was still buried in the mountain of work I’d been assigned.

Carla had abandoned me almost thirty minutes earlier, leaving me alone with a cup of coffee and what felt like a million lines of data that were slowly starting to resemble ancient hieroglyphics.

I finally tore my eyes away from the screen and rubbed them with both hands, trying to chase away the exhaustion.

“Do you want something to eat?”

I yelped immediately.

Max was leaning against the doorway, watching me.

“Wow,” he laughed. “I didn’t realize I was that terrifying.”

“Don’t laugh. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to calm my racing heartbeat.

“Sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s fine.” I let out a sigh. “And no, I’m not hungry. But thanks.”

I assumed he would leave after that. Instead, he walked into the room and sat down in one of the chairs across from me. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… strange.

At that hour, the factory lights had been dimmed, and the usual noise had long since disappeared.

“What?” I finally asked when I realized he was still staring.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been looking at me for five minutes.” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

“It hasn’t been five minutes.”

“Four, then.”

A smile tugged at his lips. It was almost unfair how different he looked when he smiled. Younger, less intimidating and somehow far more dangerous.

“You’re tired.”

“So are you.”

“Not as tired as you.”

I glanced back at my monitor.

“I have work to do.”

“I know.”

“Then let me finish it.”

The smile on his face widened slightly, and for some reason that felt strangely satisfying.

Over the last few months, our conversations had changed. For the better, I thought. We still argued. We still disagreed on almost everything, but it no longer felt like fighting. It felt like something else.

“You should get some rest.” His eyes drifted toward the empty coffee cup sitting beside my computer. “How many coffees have you had today?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged.

The look he gave me made me roll my eyes.

“Four or five. I stopped counting.”

Max shook his head.

“You’re impossible.”

I laughed, the irony was rich coming from him.

Max laughed too.

Then, slowly, the smiles faded and the room grew quiet again. My heart began beating a little too fast.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The question came out softer than I’d intended.

Max rested an arm on the table.

“Like what?”

“You know exactly how.”

For several seconds he didn’t answer.

“Because I like you.”

My breath caught. There was nothing elaborate about the confession. No grand declaration, just a simple truth. Very much like him.

“Max…”

“What?”

“I think maybe I should leave.” The words came out barely above a whisper.

“Probably.”

But neither of us moved.

“I still have work to finish.” The excuse sounded weak even to my own ears.

“I know.”

“And so do you.”

“Yeah.”

Yet somehow we remained exactly where we were. Neither stepping closer nor walking away. As if we were both waiting for the other person to make a decision.

Eventually, I was the one who stood and in the same instant, so did he.

A mistake. Because the distance between us disappeared entirely.

My heart slammed against my ribs and judging by the way Max was looking at me, I suspected his wasn’t doing much better.

“This is a bad idea.” I wasn’t sure whether I was trying to convince him or myself.

“Probably.” He nodded.

“A very bad idea.”

“Terrible.”

Yet neither of us sounded particularly concerned about that fact.

When his hand found my cheek, the touch was careful. Tentative. Like he was giving me every opportunity to pull away. To stop him. To say no. But I was already far too deep for that and I did none of those things.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice had dropped to a murmur.

I swallowed. But the words never came, because the truth was that I didn’t want him to stop and judging by the look in his eyes, Max already knew that.

His thumb brushed lightly along my jaw. Barely a touch. A question rather than a demand.

“That’s what I thought.”

And this time, when he leaned in, I was the one who closed the distance between us.

Our lips met with a softness that contradicted the urgency I felt in my chest, as if we both feared that one abrupt movement might shatter the moment.

When Max deepened the kiss in a slow, deliberate way, any reservations I might have had vanished.

He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me effortlessly. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his hips as he walked, guiding us until my back met the wall. The cold of it seeped through my shirt, drawing a gasp from my lips. Max took advantage of that instant to claim more of me.

“Max…” I whispered when his lips moved to my jaw, biting so gently that I felt the shiver all the way to my fingertips.

“Yes?” His warm breath brushed against my neck, his hands squeezing my thighs with a possessiveness that set me on fire.

I didn’t answer with words. I leaned my head back, offering him my throat, and he understood perfectly. His teeth grazed my collarbone while his hands slipped beneath my shirt, finding my bare skin. The moment his thumbs brushed the underside of my breasts, I held my breath.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he murmured against my sternum.

“You’re not,” I gasped, arching against him, searching for more contact, more friction, more of everything he could give me.

Max pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, and I saw my own need reflected in his, darkened with desire. Without breaking eye contact, he slid a hand between us, finding the button of my jeans. The question was there, in his expression, in the tension of the muscles holding themselves back.

I nodded, and the sound of the zipper being pulled down seemed deafening in the silent room. His fingers slipped inside my pants, finding me already wet, and the groan that escaped his throat was the most erotic sound I had ever heard.

“God, you’re so ready for me,” he growled against my ear.

My head fell back softly against the wall while he held me with one hand and unraveled me with the other. Every movement os his hand against my clit was accompanied by kisses along my neck, bites on my shoulder, and dirty whispers about how long he had dreamed of this—of me, of this moment.

“Max, please…” I begged, not knowing exactly what I was asking for, only knowing that I needed more, everything, now.

“What do you need?” His voice was a purr.

“You,” I gasped.

He didn’t need any further invitation.

He carried me in his arms and walked toward the small leather sofa in the corner, lowering me onto the cushions with surprising gentleness. He pulled off his sweater in one quick motion, revealing a sculpted torso that my eager hands immediately explored, feeling the taut muscles beneath my touch.

When he leaned over me, settling between my legs, I felt the heat of his cock pressing against me through the fabric of our clothes. The anticipation made me tremble; every nerve ending in my body was on fire.

“Last chance to say no,” he sighed, though his body was already aligned with mine, ready.

In response, I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled him closer, guiding him toward me. The contact of his skin against mine drew a groan from both of us.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I confessed, looking directly at him.

When he moved forward and fully penetrated me, I knew I had been waiting for this, longing for this, since the moment his eyes first met mine.

We moved together, desperate, without rhythm or grace, driven only by pure, raw need. His hands gripped my hips, my breasts, my hair, as if he couldn’t decide which part of me he wanted most. I devoured him just as fiercely—scratching his back, biting his shoulder, feeling the sweat on his forehead against mine.

“So perfect,” he growled. “So mine.”

And when pleasure finally exploded inside me, sweeping everything away, his name was on my lips.

In the stillness that followed, our hearts beating in sync, he whispered against my hair: “I’m fucking crazy about you.”

(…)

The next day, I wasn’t woken up by my alarm, but by an uncomfortable feeling under my skin that I immediately recognized as anxiety.

The moment I opened my eyes, my heart started racing. I had done the stupidest thing of my life, and my body was reacting accordingly.

With my heart lodged somewhere in my throat, I showered and got ready. We had a few final sessions that morning, and later in the afternoon we’d be leaving for Barcelona.

When I arrived at the factory, the atmosphere felt strange. My coworkers were looking at me more closely than usual, and some of them were even whispering. Whenever my eyes accidentally met someone else’s, they immediately looked away with a certain awkwardness.

My anxiety only got worse.

All kinds of theories started running through my head, the strongest one being that everyone had somehow found out about what Max and I had done in one of the offices the night before.

I was already planning my escape from RedBull when Carla’s voice brought me back to earth.

“Why didn’t you tell me your dad owns half of Formula One?” Her voice was full of astonishment.

“What?” That was the only thing that came out of my mouth. “How do you know that?”

My ridiculous theories immediately collapsed as soon as I connected the dots and realized that this was probably why everyone had been acting so strange around me.

They had found out who my father was.

“So it’s true?” Carla’s eyes widened like she had just made the discovery of the century.

“No—I mean… why would you say that?” I tried to steer the conversation in another direction, but I’d already made the mistake of practically admitting it.

“Look.”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened a video that had clearly been taken from TikTok.

The title read: Billionaires in Monaco.

The first two clips showed CEOs of companies I didn’t recognize. In the third one, my father and I were leaving the restaurant where we’d had dinner together.

Across the screen was a caption: Nikolai Sheremet and his daughter, Y/N Sheremet. Executive Chairman and CEO of Sheremet Industries. Net worth: $40 billion.

It was unbelievably tacky. So tacky that my stomach turned. I hadn’t even known there were people who made videos like this.

“I…” The words wouldn’t come.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but Marianne’s untimely appearance silenced me.

“Well, well.” Her smile was painfully condescending. “You really kept that little secret hidden. Now we all understand how you managed to get here.”

She folded her arms.

“It was obvious someone like you couldn’t have done it based on intelligence alone.”

I was not in the mood.

“I’m really not interested in your childish games, Marianne.” My voice came out sharper than intended. “Grow up already. It’s not my fault your life is miserable. Fix your own problems and get yourself a life.”

I turned around without waiting to see her reaction. The only thing I heard was Carla’s laughter.

A few minutes later, I was locked inside a bathroom stall, trying to calm my racing pulse. Between this situation and whatever was happening with Max, I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust.

When I finally managed to calm down, I stepped out of the stall, washed my hands, and looked up.

My eyes met Max’s through the mirror.

I practically jumped.

Spinning around, I stared at him.

“What the hell are you doing in here? This is the women’s bathroom.”

My whisper came out somewhere between panic and outrage.

Max simply shrugged.

“No one’s around this area.” He looked entirely unbothered. “Relax. You’re way too tense.”

I dragged a hand across my face, trying to steady my nerves.

“If it’s of any consolation, I already knew about your father.”

“What?” My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms and leaned against one of the closed stall doors. “I knew from the very beginning. Laurent told me.”

I stared at him.

“That's why I made your life difficult when you first arrived.”

My mouth fell open.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t just another rich daddy’s girl who came here to play with race cars.”

For a moment I forgot how to blink.

“What?” I repeated, this time with even more disbelief.

“But then you proved me wrong.” He shrugged casually.“So…”

“What?” I repeated again.

“Is that all you’re going to say?” Max asked. “Did you forget every other word in the English language?”

The mix of sarcasm and concern in his voice only made me more irritated.

“You treated me like the dirt on the bottom of your shoe…” I stared at him in disbelief. “For that reason?”

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad.” He immediately defended himself. “And besides, I already apologized for that and you accepted my apology, so let’s not go back to it.”

He made a dismissive motion with his hand.

“Oh my God.”

I turned toward the mirror.

“I think I’m actually losing my mind.” I looked at my reflection, trying to quiet the anxiety that was roaring even louder inside me.

Max pushed himself away from the stall door and walked over. Before I could react, he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Hey.” His voice softened. “Everyone will forget about this in a week.”

His arms tightened slightly around my waist.

“Don’t worry about it.” He rested his chin near my shoulder. “You’re brilliant. Everyone knows you deserve to be here.”

Carefully, I stepped out of his embrace. The look on his face immediately told me he had interpreted it as rejection.

“What?” he asked, frowning.

I cleared my throat.

“I don’t think…” My voice faltered. “I don’t think we should keep doing this anymore. If someone finds out—”

“No one is going to find out.” He cut me off before I could finish. “At least not for now. We’re being discreet.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want things to become more complicated than they already are.” My words came out sounding almost like a plea.

“They won’t.” His hands found my waist again. “Trust me.”

His lips brushed lightly against my neck.

“I promise everything is going to be fine.”

And just like Max promised, things did get better.

Our relationship—if I can even call whatever we had a relationship—flourished over the following months.

We spent almost all our time together. We went out for dinner, took long walks, and even during the short breaks I was given by the team, I would stay with him in Monaco.

Things improved with the team as well. As the weeks passed, the news that I happened to be related to a billionaire became old news, and everyone gradually returned to the same dynamic we had before.

I could say everything was almost perfect.

Almost.

We were about to begin qualifying in Interlagos when I started suspecting that something wasn’t right.

At first, I blamed stress. The workdays were long, the travel schedule relentless, and the pressure at this stage of the season was enormous.

All of that seemed like a far more reasonable explanation than anything else.

Then came the exhaustion. A different kind of exhaustion. As if my body was operating at half capacity.

Then came the nausea. Small at first, mild enough to ignore. Until one morning I found myself locked inside one of the paddock bathrooms, trying not to throw up.

“Are you okay?” Carla’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” I lied. “It was just breakfast.”

I lied again the next day.

And the day after that.

Until I could no longer ignore the truth. My period was more than two weeks late. The number repeated itself over and over in my head during the flight back to London.

It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. But a part of me already knew it could.

That’s why, instead of going straight to Milton Keynes, I ended up sitting in the waiting room of a private clinic in Kensington.

Doctor Whitmore had known my family since before I was born. He had been our family’s physician in England for years.

When he entered the consultation room, he greeted me with a warm smile.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here.”

“I wish this visit was social.”

Apparently, my face reflected every ounce of the devastation I was feeling, because his smile faded slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

I took a deep breath.

“I need you to run some tests.”

Two hours later, I was sitting across from him again.

My legs wouldn’t stop bouncing. Neither would my hands.

The doctor studied the results for several long seconds before looking up. And before he even said a word, I knew. The expression on his face left no room for doubt.

“Y/N…”

I felt my stomach drop.

“You’re pregnant.”

The world went completely silent. I couldn’t hear anything, not even my own breathing, just those two words.

You’re pregnant.

A fear so intense it stole the air from my lungs began rising inside me.

My career, my father, RedBull.

Max.

Everything started collapsing inside my head at the same time.

“How far along am I?” My voice sounded strange. Distant.

“Approximately eight weeks.”

Eight weeks. Eight weeks meant there was no mistake, no misunderstanding. It was completely real.

I lowered my gaze to my hands, which wouldn’t stop trembling.

“Oh my God…”

The doctor leaned forward slightly.

“You don’t have to make any decisions today.”

But I barely heard him. Because my mind was already several steps ahead, thinking about my father finding out, thinking about my job RedBull, about what this would mean for everything I had worked for.

And most importantly, thinking about Max.

Because for the first time since I’d met him, I had absolutely no idea how he was going to react. And that was what scared me the most.

Over the following weeks, I never managed to find the perfect moment to tell Max the news. Everything in the garage was so chaotic that it felt like we were living inside a pressure cooker.

Max was leading the championship, but there were still two races left and nothing had been decided yet.

Stress became the perfect excuse. Especially once the pregnancy symptoms became harder to hide. If Max noticed I was lying, he never let me know.

But sooner or later, every secret comes out and eventually, I reached the point where I couldn’t keep mine any longer.

We were alone in a small room in the paddock after the Qatar race. Max had finished P3 and wasn’t particularly happy about it.

“Max…” I whispered, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah?” He turned to look at me, waiting for me to continue.

My heart immediately started racing. My palms became damp. It was now or never.

“I need to tell you something…”

His full attention shifted to me.

“Just say it, baby.”

“I…” My voice faltered. “I’m pregnant, Max.”

I lifted my gaze from my trembling hands to look at him. And as expected, there wasn’t even a trace of happiness on his face.

“What?” His expression was pure shock.

I didn’t know what to say when tears started filling my eyes.

Max closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. A frustrated one.

“Weren’t you taking the shots?” His brow furrowed, and his face grew progressively redder with every passing second.

“Yes. I was. I don’t know what happened.”

Max dragged both hands down his face.

“Just what I needed…” He stood up abruptly and began pacing around the room. “God damn it.”

My stomach twisted painfully.

“What are we supposed to do?” he asked. “What are you planning to do?”

“Well…” My voice was barely audible. “I don’t know. Keep it, I guess.”

Apparently, that wasn’t the answer he wanted. A dry laugh escaped him. One completely devoid of humor.

“Of course.” He ran a hand harshly through his hair. “Y/N, I don’t have time for this right now.”

Each word landed like a blow.

“I have to win a fucking championship next week.” He shook his head. “This is the last thing I need to be thinking about right now.”

And just like that, he walked out of the room. Leaving behind nothing but silence and rejection.

All I could do was press a hand over my mouth, trying to keep my sobs from being heard.

The following week, I tried to ignore everything as much as possible. It wasn’t particularly difficult. Because Max seemed to be trying to do exactly the same thing.

There were moments when I could feel his eyes on me. But the second I looked back, he would look away. It was like he was refusing to accept the reality his life—our lives—would soon become.

As expected, Abu Dhabi kept all of us emotionally stretched to our limits. At times, it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the garage.

Max was battling one of the McLarens for the lead. With only one lap remaining, he finally managed to build enough of a gap to cross the finish line first.

Making him the World Champion once again.

Everyone celebrated. Including me.

The entire team rushed toward the parc fermé to welcome him back, but I stayed behind. The truth was, I wasn’t sure he’d be happy to see me anymore.

With tears threatening to spill over, I headed toward a quieter area of the paddock. I walked slowly, trying not to think about what would happen next.

It felt like the life I had worked so hard to build was slipping through my fingers and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Y/N.”

At the sound of my name, I turned around.

“Hello…” I was about to ask who he was.

But as he got closer, I recognized him immediately: My father’s head of security.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised.

“Your father needs you to come home immediately.” His voice was serious, so was his expression.

Fear settled into my chest instantly. My mind immediately jumped to every possible scenario that would justify such urgency.

“What?”

“I came here to get you.” His hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket. “And I can’t leave without you.”

“I don’t understand.” I frowned. “At least let me tell the others.”

He simply shook his head.

“Everyone is celebrating.” His tone left little room for argument. “We need to leave immediately. There’s a jet waiting for us.”

The finality in his voice made it clear that this wasn’t a request. And in the end, the only thing I could do was obey.

(…)

On the way home, I managed to send Laurent a message explaining the situation. I couldn’t do much else because my phone died.

How convenient.

Several hours later, I arrived home. I rushed inside, scanning everything around me, trying to figure out what was going on.

When I reached the main sitting room, my father and two of my brothers, Artyom and Ilya, were waiting for me.

My father was completely still, his expression unreadable. The moment his eyes met mine, I knew. The thing that was wrong was me.

“What’s going on? Why are we all here?” My voice cracked slightly.

The fear that had accompanied me throughout the journey had transformed into pure panic.

“Do you have something you’d like to tell us, Y/N?” Artyom, the eldest of us all, spoke first.

I hesitated.

“No… I don’t think so.”

My heart was pounding.

If this was what I thought it was—No, I pushed the thought away immediately. There was no way.

“Yesterday's evening, I received an email regarding a payment from our healthcare provider,” my father began.

God, let lightning strike me and turn me to ash right now.

I already knew where this conversation was headed, and it was impossible not to start trembling.

“I didn’t know you’d been ill a month ago.” My father’s eyes were red. All I could see in them was restrained fury. “Since you didn’t tell me about it, I decided to review your medical records and the tests you had done.”

Tears immediately started streaming down my face. Not a single sound came out of my mouth.

“And to my surprise, I discovered that my little girl…” My father paused, struggling to compose himself. “The little girl I trusted enough to let leave and start…” He stopped again, taking a moment to steady himself. “…start a new life.” His jaw tightened. “Is pregnant.”

I couldn’t hold it together any longer. The sobs burst out of me. I lowered my gaze to my hands, unable to keep looking at him.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

The tears kept falling. It felt like a dam had broken inside me and there was no way to stop the flood.

“The baby is his, isn’t it?” This time, it was Ilya who spoke.

I immediately looked up and found my brother staring back at me with barely contained rage.

“What?” I whispered.

My father let out a humorless laugh.

“You’ve always been naïve, Y/N.” He rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, and for the first time I realized he’d been drinking. “You can hide it behind that temper you inherited from your mother, but you’ll always be vulnerable in that regard.”

His eyes hardened.

“Did you really think I was going to let you move away from here and not keep you on my radar?”

My stomach dropped.

“We’ve always known what was going on between you and him, Y/N,” Artyom added.

Silence settled over the room.

I was still trying to process everything I’d just learned. Meanwhile, my brothers seemed to be waiting for my father’s reaction.

Finally, he spoke.

“Go to your room, Y/N.” His voice was exhausted. “We’ll talk again when that—”

He stopped himself before finishing the sentence.

“—when that man gets here.”

My eyes widened. I wanted to ask what he meant.

No.

I thought I already knew exactly what he meant. I just needed someone to confirm it.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring myself to ask. So I simply turned around and walked to my room.

The first thing I did was plug my phone in to charge.

The moment it turned on, notifications started flooding in. Messages. Missed calls.

The only ones I cared about were Max’s.

So I opened our chat and started reading.

MAX: Where are you? I’ve looked all over the paddock and it’s like you vanished. I know you’re still upset, but I want to celebrate with you.

MAX: You’re worrying me. I’ve asked around and nobody has seen you.

MAX: Laurent told me you had an emergency. Are you okay? Text me as soon as you can.

MAX: I know what’s going on now. We’ll see each other soon.

And that was where the messages stopped.

That last text confirmed what I had already suspected. Max was coming here to talk to my family. My anxiety immediately worsened, and the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

What the hell had we gotten ourselves into?

I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep, but eventually exhaustion won, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

The next morning, I woke up and got dressed. I didn’t go downstairs for breakfast. I didn’t greet anyone. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

Two hours later, Artyom came upstairs and asked me to come down. One look at his face told me the person I had been expecting had arrived.

My heart was racing. I laced my fingers together to hide how badly my hands were trembling. When I entered the room, I found more than just my family waiting for me.

Laurent was there.

Max’s manager.

Jos Verstappen.

And Max.

Everyone was already seated, so I quietly took a seat beside my father.

“Now that Y/N is here, I think we can begin,” Artyom said as he sat down next to Ilya.

“I’m going to be direct,” my father began. “As you’re all aware, my daughter, Y/N, is expecting a child with young Mr. Verstappen here present, and I believe we all understand that the situation is far from ideal.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“So, in order to resolve this matter in a way that benefits all parties involved…” He paused. “Max must marry my daughter.”

He delivered the statement like it was the most logical solution in the world.

My jaw dropped.

“You can’t force us to agree to something like that.” Jos Verstappen’s deep voice broke the silence.

My father didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, as if he had anticipated the objection.

“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Verstappen.” His tone remained calm. “Which is why I’ve decided that if Max refuses my condition, I will take my daughter and her child far away from all of you. You will never see them, nor hear from them again.”

The room went still.

“Dad…” I protested softly.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs.

“You can’t do that,” Max shot back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of his pale face.

We both knew he could do that, and much worse.

“Please don’t interrupt me. I’m not finished.” My father continued like nobody had spoken. “And because I understand that, for some of you, that outcome might actually be convenient…” His gaze shifted toward Laurent.

“I will also be withdrawing all of my sponsorships from RedBull.”

Laurent immediately protested.

Then everything descended into chaos. Everyone was talking at once. Everyone had something to say. Everyone objected to my father’s proposal.

“I accept.” Max’s voice cut through the room like the crack of a whip.

The conversations died instantly.

“But Max—” Jos tried to reason with him before Max interrupted.

“No.” His voice was firm. “I understand that I have a responsibility toward Y/N and our child.”

He glanced briefly in my direction.

“And if this is the way you believe that responsibility should be fulfilled, then I’ll do it.”

Not once did he hesitate. The determination on his face made it clear that he meant every word.

Yet his answer brought me no comfort. I had practically fallen into the exact situation I had spent years trying to escape when I walked away from the cushioned life my father had built around me.

And now I sat there, watching everyone negotiate over me like I was an object.

Like I had no voice in any of it.

Unfortunately, that didn’t change over the following weeks.

The wedding was small. My father had wanted something much bigger, much more extravagant, but for once in his life, he did things my way.

Just close family, a few people from the team, and a couple of friends. Nothing more.

I only remember fragments of that day.

The dress. The weight of everyone’s gaze. The sound of a glass accidentally shattering during the reception. The judge’s voice. The flowers. The beautiful ring Max had given me. His hands wrapped around mine. But everything else was just a blur.

It was as if I had been watching the ceremony from outside my own body. As if the bride had been someone else.

Every time someone congratulated me, I smiled automatically. Every time someone took a picture of us, I did exactly what was expected of me. And every time I looked at Max, I felt an unbearable ache in my chest. Because it was obvious to me that he didn’t want to be there.

No one dreams of getting married because their father-in-law backed them into a corner.

By the time we finally arrived at the apartment in Monaco, I was exhausted. All I wanted was to take off the dress and hide under the covers for a week.

I heard the door close behind us.

I avoided looking at Max as I started taking off my earrings.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” His voice made me tense.

“I’m not ignoring you,” I tried to defend myself.

“You’ve been doing it for weeks.”

I set one of the earrings down on the vanity.

“I’ve been busy with the wedding and the pregnancy.”

“That’s a lie.”

I looked up at the mirror. Max was still standing near the entrance, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He looked just as exhausted as I felt.

“What do you want me to say?” I threw my hands up in frustration.

“The truth.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“That’s ironic.” I pushed some hair away from my face.

“Why?” he asked like he genuinely didn’t understand.

I finally turned to face him.

“Because neither of us has been telling the truth since all of this started.”

I watched his jaw tighten.

“And what exactly is the truth according to you?”

A knot formed in my throat.

“That you didn’t want this.”

“What?”

“You didn’t want to get married.” The words came out faster than I intended. “I don’t blame you, Max. I wouldn’t have wanted it either.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” His expression showed genuine confusion.

“My father gave you an ultimatum.”

“Y/N—”

“He forced you.”

“He didn’t force me.” He shook his head as soon as I finished speaking.

“Yes, he did.” My voice cracked. “He backed you into a corner and took away every other option.”

The silence that followed was brutal. For a moment, I thought he would simply agree. Admit the obvious. Instead, something changed in his expression.

Max looked genuinely angry.

“Is that what you think?” His tone was sharper than I expected.

“Isn’t it true?” I challenged him with my gaze.

“No.” The answer came so quickly it left me frozen.“No.” He repeated it more firmly. “What your father did was try to force me.”

“And it worked.”

“No.” The word echoed through the room. “No one forces me to do something I don’t want to do.”

I stared at him without understanding.

“Max…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” His frustration was palpable.“I’ve raced injured because I wanted to. I’ve ignored team orders because I wanted to. I’ve spent my entire life doing exactly what I want.”

His chest rose and fell heavily.

“So why the hell would your father be the exception?”

My heart started beating faster.

“Because he threatened to—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your father’s money.” The bluntness of his words made me blink. “You think I said yes because I cared about the sponsors?”

“Then why?” The question came out barely above a whisper.

The anger faded slightly from his face.

“Because it was you.”

The air left my lungs.

“Max…”

“You think I wanted it to happen like this?” He shook his head. “No. Do you think I wanted your father involved? No. Do you think I wanted you to feel trapped? No.”

He took a step toward me.

“But if the question is whether I wanted to be with you…” His eyes met mine. And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t see resignation. I didn’t see obligation. I didn’t see regret. “The answer is yes.”

My vision blurred.

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

The smile that appeared on his lips was small. Sad.

“Because you were so busy convincing yourself that I didn’t want you that you never stopped to ask me.”

This time, my tears didn’t come from fear or sadness. They came from relief. Because for months, I had carried the certainty that all of this had been a mistake. And now I was discovering that I had been wrong.

(…)

I never imagined happiness could be so quiet. For years, I had searched for it in big things. Degrees, promotions, recognition. In the approval of people who were probably never going to give it to me and in the end, I found it on an ordinary Tuesday at three in the morning.

Sitting on the floor of the nursery. A blanket draped over my shoulders and a baby girl asleep in my arms.

The soft glow of a lamp barely illuminated the room. Everything was silent except for our daughter’s steady breathing.

“Up again?”

I looked up. Max was leaning against the doorway, barefoot, his hair messy, still half asleep.

“She woke up a few minutes ago.”

“You could’ve called me.”

“You were sleeping.”

“And you weren’t?”

“I’m fine.”

Max laughed.

“You’ve been saying that for three months.” He walked over and dropped down beside us on the rug.

He watched our daughter for a few moments. The way his eyes softened every time he looked at her still surprised me. Because no one else got to see that version of him. Only us.

“She looks like you,” he said softly.

“Poor kid.”

“Very funny.”

I rested my head against his shoulder and we simply sat there, enjoying the silence. Until my eyes drifted back to the laptop sitting open on top of the dresser.

Max followed my gaze.

“You’re still thinking about it.” It wasn’t a question.

“A little.”

“A lot.”

I sighed. Maybe he was right.

“I miss working.” The confession came with an immediate wave of guilt. Because I loved our daughter, I loved her more than I ever thought possible. But I also missed engineering, I missed solving problems, the data, the challenges, I missed feeling like I was building something.

“You shouldn’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The guilty one.”

“I’m not feeling guilty.”

“You’re terrible at lying.”

Damn it.

“I just…” I looked down at the sleeping baby. “I thought once I became a mother it would stop mattering.”

“Work?”

I nodded.

“And it didn’t.”

Max stayed quiet for a few moments.

“Good.”

I looked at him in confusion.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s good about that?”

“That you still have dreams.”

The answer caught me completely off guard.

“Max…”

“What?”

“We have a daughter now.”

“I know.”

“And a family.”

“I know that too.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

He reached over and adjusted one of the blankets covering the baby.

“Because none of those things mean you have to stop being who you are.”

A lump formed on my throat.

“I can’t go back to the team.” We both knew it was true.

The rules, the internal policies, the conflicts of interest. All of it made it impossible for us to work together again.

“Then don’t go back.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Do something better.”

I let out a small laugh.

“Sure. As if it were that easy.”

“For you, it probably is.”

“Max.” I warned.

“I’m serious.” He turned to look at me. “You spent years trying to prove you deserved a place in someone else’s company.”

I nodded slowly.

“And?”

“Why are you still thinking so small?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

“You could consult for teams, start your own company, develop technology. You could hire engineers better than everyone we met at Mercedes and Red Bull combined.” A smile appeared on his lips. “God knows you’ve got the money to do it.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“That was weirdly romantic.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know.” And that was exactly what surprised me.

Because he really believed it. He always had. Even when I didn’t.

“You think I can do it.”

“No.” His answer made me frown.

“No?”

“I know you can.”

The tears came before I could stop them. Max immediately rolled his eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because you just said something nice.”

“I didn’t say anything nice.”

“You literally just did it again.”

“Oh my God.” His expression of resignation only made me laugh harder.

Our daughter, as if she had decided to join the conversation, let out a tiny protest in her sleep.

We both looked down at her at the same time. Then we looked at each other and smiled. Because for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel like my life had become smaller.

It had expanded.

I had a daughter, a family and I still had a future.

One much bigger than anything I had ever dared to imagine.

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