Fred catches Max giving Charles 'Riding lessons' and being the innocent person he is thinks it has something related to cars, only to get traumatized when he witnesses the real riding

Fred didn’t knock.

He never did, really—not when it came to his drivers. And especially not when it was Charles, because as far as Fred was concerned, the boy had the judgment of a saint and the patience of a monk.

So imagine his surprise when he swung the hotel door open and found Charles shirtless, flushed, with Max Verstappen standing suspiciously close—also flushed. Hair mussed. Breathing heavy.

Fred blinked. Max straightened up, clearly panicking.

“We were—uh—riding lesson. Yes. I’m giving him… riding lessons,” Max blurted, his Dutch accent somehow thicker with nerves. “I was just explaining... throttle control.”