Page 127 of Close Contact
I leaned forward, gripping the mic tightly. “The red flags were active before I exited. The footage is clear.”
Another journalist pressed. “Do you think your personal feelings for Fraser influenced your actions?”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I kept my tone even. “I would’ve done the same for any driver. This isn’t about personal feelings—it’s about safety.”
Kimi jumped in, his voice cutting through the tension. “She tried to act and was silenced. This was almost a very differentoutcome, but could have been avoided entirely had Aurélie been heard. She did what any of us would hope for.”
Marco nodded, his calm demeanor adding weight to the sentiment. “Aurélie proved what this sport is supposed to be about: skill and humanity.”
The questions kept coming, but their edges dulled under the camaraderie surrounding me. We were a team, and today, we’d proven it.
The microphones inched closer, the reporters’ faces a blur of sharp angles and bright flashes.
I leaned into the mic, gripping it tightly. “Racing is dangerous. That’s not news to anyone here,” I began, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. “But today, we saw just how quickly things can go wrong. Callum’s crash wasn’t just an accident—it was the result of reckless behavior that has no place in this sport.”
“Would you have done anything different?” A reporter asked.
“You’re asking if I regret trying to reach someone who nearly died in front of me? I regret that I was held back, and I regret that’s even a question. What Idon’tregret is using my voice to call out the people who caused it. But sure, keep questioning the woman who tried instead of the men who nearly killed him. Next?”
The room murmured, pens scratching against notepads.
“Your emotional reaction at the scene—screaming and attempting to get past the medical staff—some are calling it unprofessional. How do you respond to that?”
“When I saw him trapped, unconscious, and limp in the cockpit, I lost it. Of course I did. He isn’t just a rival. He’s someone I lo–someone I care about. And they wouldn’t let me near him. I was screaming because I didn’t know if he was alive. If you think that makes me unprofessional, then maybe the real issue is how numb you’ve all become to watching us crashfor your entertainment. We’re still humans beneath these race suits.”
A reporter leaned forward, his expression skeptical. “Do you believe the FIA should have acted sooner?”
I met his gaze, unflinching. “I believe the FIA has a responsibility to prioritize driver safety over everything else.”
Kimi’s voice cut through the noise. “Aurélie isn’t just a great driver; she’s a decent human being. Something we could use more of in this sport.” Marco nodded in agreement. “This isn’t just about Callum. This is about ensuring none of us have to stand here again, explaining why safety was compromised.”
Marco shifted. “This sport is built on precision and respect. When that’s ignored, we all pay the price.”
I glanced between them, gratitude swelling in my chest. We’d made our point. Someone we cared about could have died today. Now it was up to the FIA to listen.
As the press conference wound down, some new emotion washed over me—not fear, but something closer to hope.
He fought for me today. Now the world knows what we’re capable of. Together? They won’t stand a chance.
The celebrationfrom the Luminis 1-2 lockout was in full swing in the hotel bar. Laughter and shouts filled the air, the kind of euphoria that followed a victory like ours. But the energy suffocated me, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin every second I spent here. I plastered a smile on my face long enough to slip away from the crowd, the roar of celebration fading as I made my way through the quiet corridors of the hotel.
My feet carried me before my brain could catch up. I needed to see him—to know he was okay. Callum’s face had been burned into my mind since the crash, a haunting image of his still body. Even now, my hands shook, the tremor betraying the storm I was barely keeping at bay. I wrung them together to appear somewhat calm, trying to tamper down the building anxiety.
Which seemed ironic given how many times he’d seen me fall apart and loved me through it all.
When I reached his door, it was ajar. The sight sent a jolt through me, and I hesitated, my knuckles hovering just shy of the wood.
“Callum?” I asked softly, pushing the door open. The room was dark, save for the faint glow from a lamp by the bed. But it was empty—neatly made, as if untouched. A suitcase sat on the floor, unzipped but packed.
“Aurélie?” Marco’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. I turned to find him a few feet away, concern clouding his usually easygoing expression.
“Hey,” I breathed. “I—I wanted to check on him. Is he…”
“They flew him home earlier tonight,” Marco said gently, stepping closer. “Doctor’s orders. He fought them on it, of course. Said he wanted to see you, but… he was hurting. More than he let on.”
My throat tightened. “I didn’t even know he’d left.”
Marco nodded. “He didn’t want to leave you behind. Said you’d already fought hard enough today. Told me to tell you… he’s proud of you.”
