My Formula 1 System

Luca carried himself with a rare cordiality after the Monaco Grand Prix, something no one had seen since the catastrophic disaster that damaged him last year.

It was the first time Luca had stepped out to mingle and celebrate with the fans this season. There was a swell of excitement and disbelief when many realized it.

Coming face-to-face with Luca Rennick had become a rarity for many Trampos fans and people in general. His public appearances and fan engagement were far scarcer this season than they had been last.

Last season, Luca was the embodiment of openness and warmth, never hesitating to vault over the barriers and throw himself into the waiting, enthusiastic arms of the crowd.

He would linger for nearly half an hour with every group of children he met, crouching down to their level and telling them, with unshakable sincerity, that dreams could, in fact, come true.

He blurred the line between driver and supporter, climbing over railings to shake hands, pose for photos, and share inside jokes with complete strangers.

The weather never held him back. Whether it was a scorching hot day or a downpour, Luca felt he had a devotion to every single fan that came his way.

Things were strikingly different now. Since the start of this season, his post-race routine rarely extended beyond the podium and the debrief room. Because of this scarcity, every fan encounter grew in immense value, as people didn't know when next they would get the chance.

There in Stellar, the rarity of his presence caused a frenzy; word spread like wildfire through the crowd, and soon he was engulfed in a swarming wave of supporters, and some, even rival fans, who still wanted a piece.

The rush was so intense that security had to step in, forming a protective bubble around him just to keep the scene from spiraling into chaos.

As Luca worked the crowd—signing caps, toys, shirts, taking photos, bumping fists—security subtly guided him toward the VIP fan zone, a safer yet still vibrant space where he could engage without the crush of bodies.

There, he crossed paths with Adrian and his young brother by his side. The two of them had left their lavish suite to meet Luca. When Luca recognized them, his face brightened even more, like he'd just seen family.

"Oh! Adrian....?"

Luca strode forward, chuckling until he reached Adrian, wrapped his arms tightly around his lanky frame, and hugged him so hard the wind was driven from his lungs.

"Aww, man. You just rumpled my fit now."

Adrian grumbled, but Luca ignored his friend's protest about always looking perfect. He glanced down at Henry, and without a thought, scooped the little boy up effortlessly.

Henry was six and very heavy, so Adrian was quite surprised Luca was able to carry and spin him so lightly.

"And here's my little troublemaker!"

Luca proclaimed as he planted the boy back on his feet. Henry giggled, feeling dizzy for the first three seconds. There was a sparkle in his eyes as Luca crouched slightly to say something interesting.

"I swapped helmets with Jimmy today. I think you should wear it and take pictures."

"Mother's not a major backer of Trampos. Are you sure we'd be let near the pit lane?"

Adrian asked, because he understood how things worked, and these things could be denied if not properly authenticated. But Luca assured him he could make things work through paddock entry instead of pit lane entry, but after requesting exclusive access first.

"So your mother's around?"

Luca asked Adrian as they walked to their destination while Henry took the lead, soaring through the towering adults like an eagle.

"Yes. She just wanted to leave, so she had us come down to try and meet you. I know she definitely can't come down, but I feel like she's avoiding you in some way…"

Luca laughed shortly, shaking his head in a vague response. Adrian definitely wasn't wrong.

As Luca promised, they got exclusive access to the paddock, granting them a brief window to meet Trampos Racing from the inside. In that short time, Luca placed Jimmy Damgaard's helmet on Henry's head. It swallowed his neck and was just as wide as his shoulders, yet it was still a charming, cute visage—worth every photo taken.

"Is he Luca's child?"

Somewhere nearby, Luca overheard a crew member quietly ask another if the boy was his. Perhaps they took the child's brown hair as some trait linked to him. Luca turned with a laugh, saying no, and that laughter infected everyone else.

From there, he introduced Adrian as the brother, and both as the sons of one of Trampos' newest sponsors.

Apart from Henry having uncanny features with him, Luca could see another reason why they'd think Henry was his son. In the British Grand Prix, he had shown a fine girl, and now here he was with a little boy—it wasn't hard to imagine the whispers. Even Adrian, who happened to overhear, understood the assumption.

"What about Isabella? I thought you said she's in the country. Why didn't she attend the race?"

Luca looked genuinely surprised, turning his head toward Adrian, who had just spoken.

"Isabella didn't watch this race?"

"Not from the suite, at least. And on a street track like this… well, it's highly unlikely she'd be sitting anywhere else."

Luca's first thoughts didn't drift toward questions about why Isabella hadn't attended his race. He didn't have an entitled mentality. What he first thought of were the possibilities that something might have happened—illness, a sudden problem, an accident, or even some kind of danger.

Those concerns came to him far more readily than the notion that she might have chosen not to attend.

Only later, and much more slowly, did the thought creep in that perhaps her absence was deliberate. Even then, the strongest feeling in him wasn't offense, but simple hope that she was alright first.

Afterwards, Adrian and Henry took their leave, but not before Luca quietly asked Adrian if he knew where his mother would be lounging and indulging herself during this celebratory week.

Adrian admitted he wasn't entirely sure of her personal plans, though he promised to send Luca a message if he managed to find out. Luca nodded in agreement, accepting the arrangement.

The rest was a night like no other for Trampos, a blur of celebration that threaded through the packing and unloading, with cheers and laughter following them every step of the way. They celebrated along the journey, growing ardent with each toast and then gradually weary as the hours slipped by.

By the time the clock neared 11 p.m., everyone was heading toward their hotel rooms. Luca, having booked a different hotel from the team's designated facility, parted ways and made his way alone, arriving at his hotel as the retained F1 Monaco Grand Prix winner.

"It was a wonderful race, Luca. You raced wonderfully well—every move was perfect. You deserved this win."

Manuela praised Luca with admiration as they made their way through the softly lit corridor toward the private suite.

"Thanks."

Luca could only respond since he was exhausted. He suddenly remembered something, and he knew Manuela was the one who could answer most efficiently. He glanced at her.

"Is Isabella alright? Did she attend the race, or is she up there?"

After the question, Luca noticed the shift in his assistant's mood, as if she didn't want to speak of it, her hesitation a clear sign.

Manuela played with her fingernails, slowing her words.

"About that... She... Left."

"Left? Left to where?"

"She left the country."

Ding!

Luca wanted to doubt Manuela's words, but he kept his face unreadable. When the elevator dinged open, he calmly stepped into the suite. The first place he went was his private bedroom.

Apart from the things already in the room, there was no sign of his gorgeous girlfriend or any of her belongings. To be sure, Luca pulled back the curtains and checked the closet. After all, he and Isabella often played little games like that. Still, the result was the same.

After realizing this, Luca walked to the center of the room and let out a deep sigh. He finally felt the weight of a strenuous race day fall on him, making his arms feel numb and his legs as heavy as anvils.

Luca rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the heaviness in his mind.

He didn't have the mental space to entertain Isabella at all. In fact, the young man's concern here was the careless and unprepared booking of flights.

Smelling of champagne and sweat, Luca decided the only thing worth looking forward to now was a hot bath.

"I won't be needing any dinner—it's already too late."

Luca said to Manuela before he headed into the closet to remove his shirt. It was half past eleven now, and a dinner would do more harm than good.

"Of course, Luca. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."

Luca nodded, and after several seconds, he stepped out of the closet shirtless. He wanted to remove his special necklace from his neck, but he stopped in the middle of his actions when he noticed Manuela hadn't left yet.

She was still standing by the door.