“No, Klaus. Listen to me, and listen very fucking carefully.” His voice was low, dangerous, dripping with venom. “You think this is bad press? Try another investigation. Try interviews. Try a full fucking audit.”
Silence.
My blood ran cold.
Ross kept going. “I don’t care how it looked. I don’t care who thought it was tidy. Twenty sign-offs in twenty-four races? Do you know how that reads in black and white? The FIA can’t bury this.”
A pause. A hissed breath.
“Find out who leaked it. That’s your job now. Find the rat. Because I will not take the fall for this, do you understand me? You were the one putting your initials on those forms. You were the one giving us the edge. If someone has to burn for this, it’s not going to be me.”
My hands clenched at my sides.
The edge.
Giving us the edge.
You were the one…
He’d known. All this time. Known and let it happen. Encouraged it. Hid it.
I reached for the door handle just as Ross’s voice rose again.
“If she comes near you, shut it down. No contact. And if Volkov starts asking questions—well. Just remember who kept him in the spotlight.”
There was a final crack as the phone slammed down.
I didn’t knock.
I pushed the door open so hard it hit the wall with a satisfying thud.
Ross looked up from his desk. He was alone—no assistant, no handlers, just the man in the chair who thought he controlled the game.
“Aleks,” he said smoothly, like I was expected. “Busy morning, huh?”
“Don’t,” I growled. I stepped into the office and let the door fall shut behind me. “Don’t fucking smile at me like nothing’s happened.”
He leaned back, folded his hands. “You’ve read it, then.”
“Oh, I read it. And I listened, too. Nice call with Klaus. Really eye-opening.”
His expression twitched for half a second—just long enough to confirm everything.
“It’s true then,” I said. “You’ve been manipulating the software in my car. Over and over. And your friend Klaus has been signing off on it.”
“Aleks—”
“Don’t.” My voice snapped through the air. “How long?”
He hesitated.
“How long, Ross?”
He exhaled through his nose, measured and cold. “A while. Since before your second title.”
I stared at him.
Two years.
