Page 2 of Red Flagged
Callum’s hand brushed my lower back, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.
“What you’re describing,” Alain said slowly, “is more than negligence. It borders on coordinated endangerment on multiple drivers’ parts. But a recording isn’t enough. We’ll need hotel security footage—confirmation that you were there, that they were there, that you went to the FIA. Audit logs from the stewards’ meeting. All race reviews must be recorded. If there’s proof they dismissed a legitimate safety concern… that’s our wedge.”
I nodded. “And then we go after them?”
“Not exactly. We open a targeted investigation. Stewards, marshals, officials from Montreal. We cite violations of failing to ensure safety and sporting integrity." He cleared his throat. "And clauses regarding gender-based discrimination.”
“You think we can prove that?”
“With your statement, the recording, and any corroborating footage? Yes. Especially when paired with Callum’s crash and the fact that your warning was ignored. Male drivers have had lesser concerns taken seriously. We build a case around systematic negligence.”
My pulse quickened. “Systematic negligence,” I repeated under my breath, the words tasting both vindicating and terrifying.
“And that’s just the start,” Alain continued. I could hear papers shifting, the scratch of his pen. “Let’s break this down. First, negligence: you reported a credible safety threat, the stewards ignored it, and the result was a near-fatal impact of another driver. That alone could sink them.”
He didn’t pause before the next strike. “Second, we have gender-based discrimination. The pattern is clear—when your male colleagues complain, the FIA investigates and theGPDA gets involved. When you complain, you’re dismissed as emotional. We’ll build a comparative record. It will hold.”
A tremor went through me, half fury, half relief. Callum’s hand pressed firmer against my back.
“Third, duty of care. The FIA is legally bound to protect its drivers. By ignoring sabotage, by failing to act on your evidence, they breached that duty. If anything, they enabled danger.”
Callum flexed his free hand, and I knew he was seconds from saying something violent.
“Fourth—retaliation. The FIA didn’t just ignore you. They let the media mock you publicly when they called you emotional. They spun your complaints as dramatics by dismissing you more than once. That’s a hostile environment claim, Aurélie. A damning one.”
The words sank in like stones, heavy and hard.
“And then there’s Morel.” Alain’s tone dropped, deliberate and cutting. “His actions extend beyond the FIA. We have assault—the groping, the physical intimidation, potential marks left behind—and if you truly have footage, that is indisputable. Pair it with any on-record proof of sabotage, and we have conspiracy to endanger. Possibly even attempted manslaughter ontwocounts, if a prosecutor were feeling bold.”
My stomach tumbled. Callum muttered something vicious under his breath, his arm tightening like he could hold the rage in his body and mine at once.
“So you’re saying…” I swallowed hard. “This isn’t just one case.”
“No,” Alain said, his tone almost sinister. “It’s five. Negligence. Discrimination. Breach of duty. Retaliation. Assault. Each one damning on its own. Together?” He paused, and it felt heavy and certain. “Together, Aurélie, this isn’t a lawsuit. It’s an indictment. Of Morel, of the stewards, of the system that protects them.”
Lightning cracked outside, close enough to rattle the glass. It felt ominous, but Callum didn’t flinch. He leaned forward, voice low, unshakable. “Then we bring the whole system down.”
Callum leaned in. “You’re not doing this by yourself,” he said softly. “Whatever you need, I’m with you.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Alain chuckled and switched to English. “Then we have a narrative. Instead of litigation, we demand reform. An independent audit, stewarding changes, perhaps mandatory gender representation on panels. A driver advocate for medical concerns, appointed by the GPDA. Transparency reports.”
I leaned back into Callum's arm, the full weight of it settling around me. “So this isn’t revenge.”
“This is revolution,” Alain said. “You’ll threaten legal action. But you’ll offer them a better option: real, structural change. If they refuse… then we sue.”
Callum’s thumb skimmed the edge of my shoulder. “I’ll talk to my team. They’ll release the internal report and the telemetry of the impact. Also the medical reports.”
“And Callum, if you'll speak publicly in support?—”
“He will,” I cut in, smiling up at him. A gust of wind blew through the open door and tousled his hair, lifting it off his temples where it was starting to curl at the ends. He looked like walking sex, and I suddenly couldn't wait for this call to be over.
“You know the media will spin your relationship," Alain warned. "They’ll call Callum biased and say this is personal.”
“Itispersonal,” I said defensively. “But that doesn’t make it untrue. I brought this to the FIA before we were public about anything.”
“Exactly,” Alain agreed. “If you’re both open about it—about why you’re fighting, and what you’re fightingfor—they’ll have no choice but to listen. A safety and equity campaign, spearheaded by one of the sport’s few female drivers in history and a fan-favorite male champion?” His tone shifted, warm and resolute. “Then what we have, Aurélie… is not just a case or justice. It’s a movement. And it will be impossible to ignore.”
“And if they try to bury it?” I whispered.
