Title: The Saturday King
The garage smells of hot rubber and ambition. George pulls his helmet over his curls, exhales slowly, and closes his eyes.
One lap.
Silver arrows don't forgive mistakes. But George isn't here to be forgiven. He's here to prove that a boy from King's Lynn can outdrive a seven-time world champion. At least on Saturday.
The steering wheel vibrates in his hands. Turn 1 – brake late, trust the rear. Turn 3 – kiss the kerb like it's a trophy. By Turn 9, his heartbeat is a metronome counting down to P2.
When he climbs out of the cockpit, Toto Wolff pats his shoulder. "Good job, George."
George just nods. He doesn't say: "Good isn't enough. I want the red flag, the pole position, the victory that tastes like champagne and revenge."
He saves that for his notebook. And for Sunday..
