He was going to get his 8th.
The second the new suspension turned out to be great, Lewis stormed to Vasseur’s office.
.
He didn’t even knock. “Hey.”
Startled, Fred looked up. “Huh? Yes Lewis? What can I-“
He slammed his contract on the desk, his finger pointing to one small and subtle clause hidden.
The same one his agent used for every team he raced for.
that little piece of text, gave him every power he needed.
The driver to be priotized. He watched Fred’s face pale.
of course it did. That would mean Lewis over Charles.
ferrari didn’t spend a hundred million to not listen to their driver did they?
..
an hour after, and he had gotten his way.
leaving with a big grin, and better of all?
waving. to a smiling Charles watching the onboards with hope.
The hope in Charles's eyes made Lewis's stomach twist, but he pushed it down. This was business. This was racing.
"Good session?" Lewis asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Charles looked up from the monitor, his smile big. "Insane. The car feels completely different. We might actually have a shot this year."
Lewis nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "That's what we want to hear." Right. ‘We’.
"You know what the best part is?" Charles continued, his voice had enthusiasm.
Lewis zoned out through half of the ramble.
..
Australia. The opener for 2026.
Charles qualified p5, Lewis p2.
..
Leclerc was immediately making up positions, p3 on the 18th lap.
“Swap me! I’m faster.” He asked. Usually Lewis himself would ask for the swap, he already had done in earlier races.
.
Not anymore.
"No," came Vasseur's voice through the radio, crisp and final. "Lewis, you are to maintain position.”
Charles's voice crackled through the team radio moments later. "What? But I'm clearly faster—"
"Charles, hold position. We're managing the race."
Lewis felt the familiar rush of getting what he wanted.
Lap after lap, Charles stayed there. Patient.
The checkered flag saw Lewis in second, Charles in third. A Ferrari one-two would have been possible, but Lewis made sure it went his way instead.
.
Charles said nothing.
Next race,
China.
Lewis watched Charles during the conferences.
Nothing had changed much. He still seemed excited.
How naive.
"P1 and P3 in qualifying. Good work," Fred nodded. "We have a real opportunity."
Lewis caught the subtle emphasis on 'we.'
The race began clean. Lewis held his pole position while Charles fought past Oscar.
"Lewis, Charles is faster," came the radio message. "Consider letting him through if he gains.”
Consider. Not an order. Lewis smiled behind his visor.
"Copy," he replied. .
“What is he doing?!” Came the Italian through the radio. Even the commentators were confused.
Charles was 0.370 behind. Yet they still didn’t ask for a swap?
Bryan said they did. Huh.
.
Charles went for a overtake-
Then Lewis-
Purposely touched his rear wheel.
..enough to look accidental.
Charles regained control, but dropping three positions.
"Lewis, what happened?" Fred's voice had controlled anger.
"Racing incident.” Lewis replied smoothly. Perfect. It looked like Charles had misjudged.
The race ended with Lewis taking the win, Charles limping home in sixth after the incident ruined his tires.
"Incredible drive today, Lewis. How does it feel to get your first win with Ferrari?"
Lewis smiled. "Amazing.”
it kept going on.
Other drivers, like Max caught on quick. Snarky quips about “one driver compromises” in his interviews.
Whatever. Let Let them think what they want. Lewis was leading the championship, at the age of 40. 6 races in.
Over 24 points to second. .
One day, after testing he was wrapping things up in-
He stopped.
.
Soft sobs.
Lewis froze. The sound came from one of the debriefing rooms.
Charles sat alone, head in his hands, shoulders trembling. The screens around him with data from both cars—his and Lewis's. Side by side.
.
He was about to leave when-
Oh. Oh fuck-
His chest dropped. This reminded him of..
..Nico.
.
Every resolve for that 8th shattered. Because he vowed he’d never be like that again.