Page 62 of Formula Chance

Tuesday morning though? I was the first to arrive today and I haven’t left my desk in almost three hours. Many took the day off to rest and relax, but staying at home and twiddling my thumbs seemed wasteful.

The aftermath of Melbourne’s race has been haunting me. Nash’s P3 finish was absolutely a cause for celebration, and nothing has made me as happy in a very long time as seeing him up there getting his due. But the pall of Matthieu’s disastrous result overshadows everything, and it’s all I can think about. My risky call to put Matthieu on soft tires and attempt an undercut backfired spectacularly. He fell out of the top ten, and his post-race tirade in the garage is still fresh in my mind. I flush hot just thinking about the humiliation.

A sharp knock on my door jolts me from my thoughts and Hendrik strides in, his expression as sharp as a blade.

“Hendrik… how can I help you?” I ask, standing from my desk.

He casually sits down in one of my guest chairs and motions for me to take my seat again, which I do.

“I want you to know, I’ve met with Luca this morning,” he says, his tone cold and clipped. “I’ve recommended your dismissal.”

My stomach drops, but I force myself to sit up straighter. “You what?”

“You heard me and surely this can’t be a shock. Your strategy cost us valuable points. And let’s not pretend your relationship with Nash isn’t affecting your judgment. Everyone can see it and it’s inappropriate.”

The accusation lands like a punch, but I refuse to flinch. “My relationship with Nash had nothing to do with the call I made for Matthieu. It was a calculated risk, and I made it based on the data.”

Hendrik scoffs. “Calculated risk? You gambled, and it failed. And now the entire team pays the price. You’re not fit for this role.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, a mix of anger and humiliation. “I made a mistake,” I admit, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But mistakes happen in this sport. Matthieu’s made them too. Or should I remind you of the race in Jeddah? Did you recommend he be replaced because of that?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond to the jab. Instead, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You don’t belong here, Toliver. There’s no room in this sport for you. Now, I have no idea what Luca’s going to do, but should he not heed my recommendation, do not think things are going to get easier for you. I’ll make it my mission to drum you out of this sport entirely. You won’t even be able to get a job selling hot dogs at a karting race for kids.”

My jaw drops in shock over what seems to be hatred of me. I can’t help but ask, “Is it because I’m a woman that you dislike me so much?”

Hendrik stands from the chair with a smirk of superiority. “I’d answer that, but I don’t want HR breathing down my neck for discrimination.”

He winks, creepy as hell, before walking out of my office without a backward glance. My hands clench into fists, but the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen. The worst part is, he might be right. Maybe I just don’t belong at this level.

I know I need to go see Luca, but before I can even rise from my chair, my phone pings with a text from the man himself.Can you come see me in my office at your convenience?

Fear causes a surge of panic to nearly swallow me. Sure, I was going to Luca’s office to see him of my own volition but somehow being summoned seems so ominous. I text him back with shaking hands.On my way.

The walk to Luca’s office feels like a march to the gallows. When I step inside, he’s seated behind his desk, his expression unreadable. He gestures for me to sit, and I comply, folding my hands in my lap to keep them from trembling.

“Hendrik spoke to me,” he begins, his usually melodious Italian accent strained. “He’s raised some serious concerns about your decision-making and your relationship with Nash. He seems to believe you can’t command the respect of Matthieu and that you’re at odds with the rest of the strategy team.”

“That is not true,” I say. “But I am at odds with Hendrik and Matthieu. While I understand his concerns, my relationship with Nash hasn’t influenced my strategy. The call I made for Matthieu was based on the data. It was a risk, yes, but one I believed could pay off.”

“And yet it didn’t,” Luca says gently but firmly. “Matthieu’s result was a significant blow to the team. Hendrik’s argument is that a more conservative strategy would have guaranteed points.”

“That’s hindsight,” I counter, my voice steady, despite the storm inside me. “Every strategy has an element of risk. If the undercut had worked, we’d be having a very different conversation.”

Luca studies me for a long moment, his hands steepled under his chin. “I believe in your talent, Bex. But the dynamic within the team is becoming… tense. Hendrik and Matthieu are questioning your leadership, and that’s a problem I can’t ignore.”

The words cut deeper than I expect, especially since he’s seemed so supportive of me. I nod slowly, processing the weight of what he’s saying. “So, what happens now?”

“I want you to stay,” he says with a sad smile. “But when we first talked to Nash about coming on the team, he divulged to me and Brienne about your past relationship. Brienne and I were both immediately ready to cut you loose because the driver is more important than the strategist. Of course, Nash didn’t want you to lose your job, but Brienne’s direction was clear… if you caused problems with Nash, you were to be cut. I have to believe she’d say the same about any issues you’d have with Matthieu. So, I’m in a quandary right now.”

“Luca,” I say, my voice surprisingly strong. “I’ve done my job well, I’ve done nothing but treat Matthieu with the utmost respect, and I’ve given my all to him and this team. My strategy was risky, but it was done with Matthieu’s best interests at heart. I just can’t get him to see that.”

“And therein lies the problem,” Luca says softly. “If you can’t work collaboratively with the drivers, we’ve got a real problem. I’m open to suggestions.”

A million thoughts echo in my mind. I replay every brick wall I’ve come up against, every harsh word from Matthieu, Hendrik’s disdain, and the rampant misogyny, knowing damn well their lack of faith in me is only because I don’t have a dick between my legs. I think of the countless hours I’ve put in, the fact I haven’t been able to sleep in two days because I’ve been analyzing my data, and no one even appreciates it. And just minutes ago, Hendrik threatened to ruin me. I feel like every decision I make will be scrutinized through a lens of doubt, and the idea of continuing in this environment all of a sudden feels unbearable.

For only the second time in my life, I consider quitting something. The first time was quitting my relationship with Nash, and it was an utter mistake. But right now… it seems unfathomable how I can continue such a steep upward climb, especially when I keep getting forcibly knocked down.

“I don’t think I can do this job,” I admit quietly. “Not like this.”

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