Carlos wasn’t snooping. He was organizing. That’s how he found the fanfiction written by one of the engineers. About him and Max. And it was… detailed. So Carlos, being Carlos, decided to do what any rational adult male F1 driver would do: meticulously recreate every scene.

…

Carlos wasn’t snooping.
He was reorganizing the telemetry room. A little. Light tidying. The engineer whose desk he was hovering around—Jamie or Jamie-something—had left in a rush for coffee, and his iPad was blinking with battery warnings. Carlos, responsible citizen of Williams and team leader, tapped it to turn it off.

And saw his name.

Then Max’s.

Then a string of words so chaotic, Carlos had to sit down.