Two fucking years.
“So all of it?” My voice dropped. “All those races. All those trophies. All those headlines. Were they ever real?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “You drove the wheels off that car every god damn weekend. You’re the best on the grid, Aleks. But this sport isn’t just about driving. It’s politics. Optics. Margins. We gave you a safety net, not a win button.”
“You lied to me.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I protected you.”
I lunged forward, slamming both palms down on his desk. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking spin this like you did me a favour.”
He didn’t flinch. “You think Hawthorn or Nova wouldn’t kill to have a system like this in place? They’re all bending the rules. We just bent them better.”
“I didn’t sign up for that.”
“Didn’t you?” His voice hardened. “You think you got here on skill alone? You think the sponsors would’ve stuck around if you had a bad year? You think Obsidian would still be top dog if we let chance dictate everything?”
I took a step back.
Not out of fear.
Out of sheer, blistering rage.
The door opened softly, drawing my gaze. Mac stepped into the room, silent, formidable.
“Aleks, let’s all take a minute.”
I glared at him. Now was not the time for calm reflection. Now was the time to draw battle lines. Unless…
“You knew.” I shook my head, disbelief rushing through my veins. I ran my hands through my hair. Mac didn’t refute it.
“Go on, tell me. What was your role in it?”
“I swapped the mappin’,” he said, his voice low, gruff.
I nodded, pressing my lips together. Somehow, unsurprised.
“Got it.” I stepped closer to Mac. This one hurt worse. This was the man who’d been in my ear since I joined F1. The man who knew when I was lying, when I was tired, when I was scared.
I shook my head slowly. “All those nights. All those talks. You telling me to trust the process.”
“I was tryin’ to keep you focused,” he said, voice roughening. “This sport eats drivers alive when they start pullin’ at threads they can’t control.”
“So you decided for me.”
“I decided to keep you winnin’.”
I stepped back, like I’d been struck.
“You let me doubt myself,” I said quietly. “You watched me tear myself apart after losses. You heard me ask if I was still good enough.”
Mac’s eyes finally dropped. “Aleks…”
“And all that time,” I continued, my voice shaking now. “You knew there was a system propping me up.”
Ross cut in, impatient. “This isn’t some grand betrayal. It’s how F1 works.”
I rounded on him. “You used me.”
