The rumor didn’t start in the paddock this time, it started in the VIP lounge. You were invited by a luxury brand sponsoring the team, and someone snapped a blurry photo of you standing near a display case, right as Charles walked past behind you. That single coincidence turned into a headline within twenty minutes “Supermodel Spotted in Ferrari VIP Area. Linked to Leclerc?”

By the time you finally entered the paddock, Charles had already seen the article. He found you leaning against a railing, trying to stay out of the chaos. “You know” he began with an incredulous laugh “I spent half my meeting explaining that I didn’t invite you here.” He shook his head, clearly amused despite himself. “One blurry photo and suddenly they think I’m hiding a supermodel on the side.”

You tried to apologize, but he gently waved it off. “It’s not on you” he said softly. “They’ll spin anything into a story. And honestly, they chose the most dramatic option possible.” He glanced around at the photographers watching from a distance. “I’m literally here with my girlfriend today, and somehow they’re convinced you’re the secret romance.”

Before he stepped back toward his team, Charles lowered his voice just enough for you to hear. “Next time, stand a bit farther away from any reflective surfaces” he joked. “Or they’ll have us running off to Monaco together by tomorrow.” His smile was warm, reassuring, no tension, just the strange reality of fame and timing.