Mac wasn’t here. I already knew that before I asked.
I wandered through the halls, saying nothing, until I was summoned with a sharp nod by one of the marshals. I followed her through to the conference wing, where they’d commandeered our main debriefing room.
Callum was already there. So were most of our engineers, race strategists, and support staff.
We all sat, silent, while three FIA officials stepped up to address us. One of them was the head of Scrutineering herself, Janine Beaumont. Her sleek grey suit the only flash of familiarity in the room.
She opened a folder and spoke.
“As of this morning, the FIA has concluded the first phase of its internal investigation into Obsidian Performance. Based on evidence provided and corroborated, several violations of the technical and sporting regulations have been identified.”
No one moved. You could have heard a fly cough.
“Further penalties and sanctions are still being determined. However, the team will be permitted to compete in the Bahrain Grand Prix next week, under the following conditions.”
She looked up. Her gaze found me for a second—cool, unreadable—then moved on.
“Firstly, Obsidian Performance is now under direct FIA observation. All telemetry, software modifications, and internal comms will be subject to real-time review.”
A few heads turned toward our lead systems engineer. His face had gone ghost-white.
“Secondly, Norton Ross has been relieved of his duties as Team Principal. He is under investigation for his role in the events leading up to and including the use of non-compliant systems during multiple race weekends.”
There was a small collective shift in posture—no surprise, no outrage. Just acceptance. We’d all seen it coming.
“In the interim, the Obsidian board has appointed Valerie Lin from Strategy to act as temporary Team Principal.”
A woman in a navy blouse stood near the side of the room and gave a curt nod. I’d seen her in meetings before, never heard her raise her voice. She looked pale but determined.
“Thirdly, all press and sponsor relations will be handled by Heidi Baxter.”
At that, Heidi stood. Calm. Polished. Her jaw tense, but her chin high.
“Your cooperation is not optional,” Janine continued. “Any obstruction of FIA oversight will result in immediate disqualification from the championship and potential license revocation. This is your chance to prove you can race clean.”
She closed the folder.
“Good luck.”
And just like that, the three of them left. No questions. No debate. Just cold execution.
We sat in silence for a few beats. Then Valerie stepped forward, flanked by Heidi.
Her voice was quiet, but firm. “I know this is a shock. But we’re not out. Not yet. We have a race to prep for. That’s what we’re going to do.”
Heidi took over, clutching a tablet.
“We’ve been fielding calls from every sponsor and media outlet in existence. Some are pulling out, including Laurent Échelon. Some are waiting to see what happens next. What happens next is you. We show up to Bahrain clean. We do the job. We race the right way. If we’re going to rebuild trust, it starts now.”
She let that hang in the air for a moment. I touched the watch around my wrist, a gift from the sponsor that I’d worn every day for six years.
“No drama. No bullshit.” Valerie continued. “We go out there and prove the team’s still worth believing in.”
She looked right at me when she said it. Not unkindly. Just… deliberately.
I nodded once.
I could do that.
