"It wouldn't be a bad thing," EJ interjects, surprising me. His eyes have brightened, some of that characteristic enthusiasm returning. "I mean, I trust Mr. Belforte. He flew across the ocean on Christmas Day just to make sure I was okay. That says a lot, doesn't it?"
And, just like that, he’s attached to Silas. It’s slightly adorable, but his practicality makes sense—even if I have to find a way to relay this info to the board of directors. EJ needs someone he trusts right now, someone powerful enough to shield him from Dominic's manipulations. And despite my reservations, I can't deny that Silas Belforte has already demonstrated more genuine care for our young driver than his current manager ever has.
"We'll need to structure it carefully," I say, not quite agreeing but not refusing outright. "Set clear boundaries between your roles as investor and manager."
"Of course," Silas nods, a slight smile playing at his lips. He knows he's winning this argument. "Everything above board, transparent, and documented. As always."
As the three of us begin discussing specifics, I observe the dynamic forming between us. Belforte's protective instincts toward EJ. The young driver's growing comfort and trust. My own position navigating between them, balancing professional concerns with human needs.
This impromptu trip to Chicago has revealed dimensions to both men I hadn't fully appreciated before. EJ's vulnerability beneath his confident exterior. Belforte's capacity for genuine care behind his intimidating façade.
And perhaps something about myself as well—that despite the Christmas I've lost with William, despite Dominic's threats and manipulations, despite the exhaustion of international travel and crisis management, my faith in the team we're building is stronger than ever. Not just the racing team that competes on tracks around the world, but this smaller, more personal team, forming in a suburban living room on Christmas Day.
Dominic may have countless resources at his disposal, but he doesn't have this—the human connection that transforms business relationships into something stronger, more resilient. Something worth fighting for.
And fight we will. Through Christmas and New Years.
Chapter 15
Here for you
William
Two weeks later
"We're quite happy with our driver lineup at Vortex. These rumors about pursuing young Ethan Jordan seem to have originated from Colton Racing themselves—perhaps a desperate attempt to appear more relevant? We wish them well with their rebuilding efforts."
How can Dominic say that with a straight face? This snake should really find some hobbies, maybe understand that the holiday season is to be spent around his family, not wrecking the houses of almost everyone in upper management and drivers at Colton Racing. Talk about pitiful guys with big egos, and something they need to compensate for.
Fucking asshole.
I close the live press conference and put the smartphone inside my locker, closing the door.
The absolute gall of the man. Activating an exit clause worth fifteen million during the holidays, then pivoting to claim he was never interested? That Colton Racing invented the whole crisis for attention? It's a masterclass in manipulation. Thank god for Violet and Belforte for managing to stop that with legal action.
The man calculated it perfectly—Christmas Day, when the industry is quiet, when everyone was distracted. A noise can become a storm in seconds. Maximum damage with minimum effort. I've replayed that morning in my head a thousand times: Violet's face when she got the news, the way she tried to hide her anger and disappointment as she prepared to leave. Professional to the core, even as our holiday crumbled around us.
I hope there’s a special place in hell for Dominic.
And I haven’t seen Violet since. Three weeks of occasional messages just to check in and nothing more.
I scan the gallery on top of this simulator room, searching for a glimpse of those beautiful bouncy curls, the sharp lines of a tailored suit, the subtle way she holds herself—strength and grace in perfect balance.
I've missed her. More than makes sense after just three weeks apart.
Here, now, in the place we both call home, I hope we can find our way back to each other. I need to know if she feels the same.
EJ is in the engineering booth, hunched over a tablet displaying telemetry data from my morning session. His sandy hair is nowslicked back, a couple of long strands falling into his face, while his sides are trimmed shorter in a neat undercut. There are shadows under his eyes that weren't there before the end of last year. He doesn't notice me at first, too absorbed in the data, the same intense focus that makes him such a natural in the car now directed at green and red lines, tracking my brake points and throttle application through every turn.
"Planning to steal all my secrets already?" I ask, dropping into the chair opposite him.
He startles, looking up with wide eyes that quickly relax into recognition. "Will! I was just—" He pauses, gesturing at the tablet. "Your exit from Turn 3 in Barcelona is insane. I've been trying to figure out how you're carrying that much speed without losing the rear."
"Magic and talent," I say, then grin to show I'm joking. "That, and about fifty crashes in the sim before I figured it out. Thank god for the restart button, or this team would be bankrupt by now." I chuckle as I study his face, looking past the enthusiastic façade. "How are you holding up?"
EJ's smile falters for just a second before he rebuilds it. Not as bulletproof as Violet's professional mask, but he's learning.
"I'm good. Better. It was just... intense, you know? My phone blowing up on Christmas morning, my manager saying all this stuff about Vortex wanting me, then Violet and Silas showing up at my parents' house in Chicago like something out of a movie."
