Blake sighs and clicks his tongue in frustration. "I can understand the suspension, but the fine… That’s… excessive."
"That fucking asshole did something to William's car," I say once we're out of earshot. "But how can I prove it? They've probably destroyed any evidence by now."
"You can't accuse someone of sabotage without proof," Blake says, his voice gentle but firm. "Especially not now, when you've already been sanctioned."
"So he gets away with it?" I demand, stopping in my tracks. "He potentially tries to kill my driver and walks away clean while I'm banned from the paddock?"
"For now," Belforte says, his voice surprisingly calm. "But patience is a virtue, Violet. And revenge is a dish best served cold. Believe me, that guy will get his comeuppance."
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "I'm staying in Monaco," I decide. "I need to see William when he wakes up."
"I'll cancel your flight tickets," Blake says immediately. "No sense wasting the money."
"No." I shake my head. "Give them to EJ and Maya. Let them fly back to the UK in comfort—they deserve it." I glance at my watch. "The race will resume soon. They should focus on that first."
Blake nods, already pulling out his phone. "I'll let Maya know. She'll appreciate the upgrade." He steps away to make the call to change ticket details with the airline, leaving me alone with Belforte.
"Come," he says simply. "Let's get you somewhere quiet."
He guides me through back routes to avoid the media circus that's undoubtedly formed, bringing me to Colton Racing's motorhome and up to my private office. The familiar space mirrors a sanctuary after the chaos of the last hours. Belforte sits me on the small sofa facing my desk, then locates the First-Aid kit.
"This isn't right," I say as he kneels before me, gently taking the soaking bandages off and cleaning my split knuckles. "How could someone sabotage us like this? Is this the 70s again, when teams would tamper with each other's cars?"
Belforte works methodically, his massive, calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he applies antiseptic. "When someone is cornered, they do unpredictable, desperate things," he says. "This feels like obsession and panic, if it is indeed Dominic behind it."
"It's notif," I insist. "It'sdefinitelyhim."
He looks up, eyes serious. "Then we find proof. But carefully. Methodically. Not with fists."
"Says the man who kicked him in the stomach," I point out.
A smile flickers across his face. "That was... an emotional response. I'm not proud of it." His expression suggests otherwise.
"Violet, you should go back to the hotel," Belforte says firmly. "Take a shower. Rest. Then go to the hospital and be there when William wakes up." He wraps my knuckles in fresh bandages. "Let me handle the investigation."
"Your methods?" I ask cautiously. "With all due respect, Silas, but I don’t want anyone killed."
He laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm in the quiet room. "Says the woman who nearly beat Dominic to death with her bare hands. You’re the one who’s dangerous." He finishes with my bandages, sitting back on his heels. "I have connections. People who can look into things discreetly. Leave it to me. Blake will request that an investigation be open."
I nod, too exhausted to argue. "Thank you."
He stands, extending a hand to help me up. "We should get you a taxi. The race will restart soon, and the paddock will be crowded."
As we gather my things, a strange calm settles over me. Six races away from the paddock. Away from my team, my responsibilities. It should feel like punishment, like defeat. Instead, it feels like clarity. Time to focus on what matters most—William's recovery and exposing Dominic's crimes.
"He thinks he's won," I say as we head for the exit.
Belforte glances down at me, one eyebrow raised. "Has he?"
"No," I answer, determination hardening my voice. "He has no idea what's coming."
Chapter 35
Always together
Violet
The hospital corridor stretches before me, antiseptic and unforgiving under harsh fluorescent lights. My heels click against polished floors as I make my way to Room 312, each step heavy with exhaustion and purpose. The tight bandages on my knuckles are a reminder of my foolish loss of control. But that doesn't matter now. Nothing matters except the man behind that door. William. Alive.
