Chapter 55

Isabella's POV

I cannot shake the feeling that my boss is attracted to me. He is always the epitome of professionalism at work, so I know that even if he harbored any feelings, he would never act on them. Or maybe, I’m just delusional.

Today, we were watching the game from the hotel restaurant instead of the paddock. The atmosphere in the restaurant was markedly different from last week—quieter, more subdued. Everyone sat in hushed anticipation, waiting for the race to start.

The live camera cut to the scene of the cars driving to the starting point one by one. My eyes found Levi at the control console opposite the pit. He wore red headphones and a dark shirt that emphasized his broad, straight back. The wind, stronger than usual, played with his thin shirt, outlining his form.

He looked so beautiful, so refined that it tugged at my chest. Having him, I knew, would heal my heart in more ways than I could imagine.

The race began, abruptly pulling me out of my reverie.


The first driver was still Verstappen of the Red Bull team, followed closely by Alonso, with Hamilton tenaciously holding onto third. But in the restaurant, the patrons’ eyes were glued to the screens, eagerly anticipating the performance of Kevin and Seth—our drivers.

I made the sign of the cross and whispered a small prayer for them. If they failed this race, it would mean we had to seriously start investigating who the saboteur and traitor within our ranks might be.

The first few laps proceeded without incident, but at the beginning of the sixth lap, Kevin reported to the team engineer that raindrops had begun to appear on the track.

Racing has never been a solitary endeavor. It is the culmination of the entire team's efforts, where the manager's decisions often seal the race's fate. Now, all the teams faced a critical decision: should they pit to change to rain tires, betting on heavy rain soon, or keep the dry tires, wagering that the rain would hold off?

Soon, some teams began pitting their cars to switch to rain tires. The live camera cut to Levi, who remained silent and undecided, and the commentator's voice echoed through the restaurant: "Ferrari's Manager Roman Levi is still hesitating whether to pit the car. This may be the first time he has encountered such a difficult situation."


I glanced at the screen, watching Levi at the control console. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, and the lines of his face were etched with concentration. His dark hair, slightly tousled by the wind, contrasted sharply with the bright red of his headphones. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, and I could almost feel the weight of his responsibility. His eyes, usually so calm and collected, darted between the monitors, processing data and analyzing every possibility. His jaw was set in a hard line, the only outward sign of the inner turmoil I knew he was experiencing. The ambient noise of the control room buzzed around him, but Levi remained the still center in a storm of chaos, his mind undoubtedly racing with calculations and strategies.

I wanted to relieve him of his troubles. But no one could make a decision for Levi at this moment. As the manager of the team, he bore the weight of far more than the car modifications and the drivers' statuses. He had to be present at every race throughout the year, issuing final instructions based on a myriad of unpredictable conditions. Moreover, he had to shoulder the full brunt of any consequences arising from these decisions.

Levi was the embodiment of responsibility, standing tall and resolute. If the team achieved glory, the drivers would bask in the podium's limelight. But if the team failed, it was Levi who had to face the storm. At this critical juncture, he needed to decide whether to have the drivers pit for rain tires like the other teams.

Watching him, I felt a pang of fear. It seemed as if he didn’t grasp the gravity of his immediate decision. What do I do?

The meteorological engineer quickly relayed the weather conditions to Levi, the entire team hanging on his every word via the live broadcast. The air was thick with tension.

“I wouldn’t want to be in the control console right now. I can feel the tension,” Mark muttered beside me. He sat next to me while Franco was across from us.

“Levi seems to be handling it well…”

His words trailed off as two seconds later, Levi finally instructed the engineers: "Stay the same. Push."

The tension at the control console skyrocketed. Levi had just instructed that they do not change to rain tires like the rest of the teams.

Mark grabbed my hands, squeezing them tightly. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed.

“Did he just say that?” Franco added, incredulous. “What was he thinking?”

I barely noticed how tightly Mark was gripping my hands, as if anchoring us all in the face of the mounting pressure. Especially me.

All eyes were glued to the enormous TV screen, breaths held in anxious anticipation. The commentator’s voice cut through the silence, "It's raining on the track."

My heart plummeted. Levi's decision appeared to be disastrously wrong. The cars hadn't changed to rain tires and would lose all grip in the heavy downpour. My mind raced with horrific images—if they lost control, Kevin and Seth could die.


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