My Formula 1 System

After stopping at a cozy café for some quick pastries and coffee, Sara drove Luca and Sophia through the beautiful streets of Paris, the city's charm perfectly displayed at every turn.

They soon arrived at the hotel, where Luca reunited with Mallow and his mother, exchanging warm greetings and catching up briefly before settling in.

Mrs. Rennick quickly ordered Luca to lift his shirt so she could assess his ribs herself. Since August, she hadn't rested and still believed Luca wasn't fully healed until her own hands confirmed it.

Luca assured his mother he was fine and spoke with her about his progress, both on the track and in his personal life.

Proud of her son, Mrs. Rennick grabbed his cheek and lowered his head for a kiss on the forehead.

Luca left his mother to relax and gathered with Mallow to discuss the race.

As expected, Mallow's praise for Luca was off the charts, showering him with laudits. He kept going on about how Luca had dominated the race, calling his moves "legendary" and his timing "supernatural."

The two of them strolled through the hotel's rooftop garden, a serene, open space adorned with flourishing greenery and a soft breeze that carried the scent of the freshly bloomed flowers.

The view of Paris from the garden was breathtaking, with the Eiffel Tower in the distance. A few other guests shared the rooftop with them, admiring the scenery.

Mallow informed Luca that Sara had spent the whole night answering congratulatory calls, including those forwarded to her line from Luca's voicemail while he slept his long sleep.

"She handled it all pretty well," Mallow said casually.

Luca nodded. "She always does."

Mallow began listing the names of the callers.

Some were familiar to Luca, some he'd only heard of, and others were complete strangers. As Mallow went on, Luca found himself reflecting on how rapidly his fame in Formula racing was growing. Either way, he was humbled by the recognition and congratulatory messages.

One name in particular caught Luca off guard, and Mallow was well aware. He continued narrating the whole situation, explaining that the person had called him as well with something else in mind.

Mr. Vance.

Luca could hardly believe he might hear that name again after the British Grand Prix. He began to wonder why Mr. Vance was contacting Mallow about him.

"What did he say?" Luca asked, coming to a stop mid-stroll.

Mallow let out a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips. "To be honest, I didn't even believe him at first, but he sounded genuine," Mallow said. "He asked me to tell you he wants to agent for you."

Luca raised an eyebrow. "Agent... for me?"

Mallow nodded, still processing the unexpected call. "Yeah. He said the Federation's removing him from his position as Operations Manager at Stadhaven because of the upcoming restructuring, and now... he's looking for something new."

"Why doesn't he just find another job?" Luca asked, his mind flashing back to the Stadhaven Circuit and Mr. Vance's office.

Mallow chuckled lightly. "It's not that simple, son. People don't just walk away from something they've done for years. Sometimes, they try to find a way to stay in the same world, just... in a different capacity. That's life, isn't it?"

"When did you turn into a philosopher?" Luca said with a scoff and a smile, leaning onto the rooftop railing. He casually waved at a group of young girls standing nearby, all of them clearly staring at him as Trampos' driver and yesterday's race winner. "So, you're saying I should let him become one of my agents?"

Mallow spread his arms. "It's up to you, son. But I won't lie, things are piling up fast on my end. I could use the help."

"Haha. When did you become overworked? You don't look stressed at all," Luca remarked.

"Me? Not stressed?!" Mallow shot back, feigning shock. "Luca, you have no idea. I'm constantly monitoring updates, chasing information, fielding calls from teams, sponsors, and media outlets. Then there's managing your schedule—"

"My schedule?"

"Yes! Keeping you on track with PR commitments, ensuring your endorsements are in check, and handling every little thing that pops up at the last minute. I have to anticipate problems before they happen, and let me tell you, that's no small task when you're involved."

Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, I'm that difficult now?"

Mallow laughed. "Your job is to drive, isn't it? I bet you don't even know how much you have in any of your accounts."

"..."

"Or how much you made just yesterday," Mallow continued. "You earned someone's fortune out there, and I make sure you get every single dime of it."

Luca couldn't help but smile.

The biggest congratulations, naturally, came from his biggest sponsor—Mrs. Hawthorne. Following close behind was Fijee Energy Beverages Ltd., both of whom had been essential to his journey so far.

Luca's smile was infectious, making Mallow grin as he slung an arm around him. "Don't worry, champ. You're going places. The higher you climb, the heavier the weight—mentally and physically, if you know what I mean. And you'll definitely need a bigger team. Who knows? Maybe even five agents someday."

"Five agents? Really?" Luca asked, raising a skeptical brow.

"Of course!" Mallow exclaimed with a smirk. "With me as the head, naturally."

Luca chuckled, nodding as he glanced out at the beautiful city skyline. "I'll think about it," he replied.

Mallow then reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek red envelope.

Luca immediately recognized that distinct shade of red—it was Trampos' signature crimson.

"This is an invitation to tomorrow's dinner night. Came in a bit late, but I guess you earned it late too," Mallow said with a grin, handing Luca the letter.

Curious, Luca took the envelope, broke the seal, and unfolded the letter inside.
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Oh, I know this, he thought.

Luca had heard about these dinner nights before. Organized by motorsport hospitality groups—exclusive circles of wealthy individuals, sponsors, and influential figures who had significant stakes in the sport—these gatherings were like a secret society of sorts.

They often came together after the season's final Grand Prix to network, celebrate, and solidify partnerships. It was more than just a fancy dinner; it was where deals were made, alliances were forged, and futures were decided.

Despite expecting the event to happen, Luca had never anticipated receiving an invitation himself.

However, as Luca continued reading the letter, a particular detail caught his attention, offering some clarity on why he might have been invited.

A driver's retirement.

Luca's mind raced as he realized how much he'd been caught up in his own whirlwind of events—the weeks of rib recovery, the relentless preparation, and finally the victory at the French Grand Prix. It hit him then that he had completely forgotten about something announced months earlier.

Back in early September, around the 5th or 6th, Marco Rossi had officially declared his retirement from Formula racing.

After an entire year of speculation from fans and pundits about why Jackson Racing had stopped putting Marco behind the wheel, both the team and Marco had publicly confirmed that he was stepping away from the sport for good.

"Well, that's one elite driver out of the competition," Luca murmured to himself.

Luca didn't grow up knowing any of these drivers in this generation, so he really didn't feel bad. But even at that, watching how skilled Marco was while behind the wheel was a spectacle and it would be sad to see such expertise sign away.

Luca wondered what could have prompted Marco Rossi's retirement. At 33, Marco was past his prime but certainly not too old in Luca's eyes. It wasn't uncommon for drivers to continue racing at a high level for a few more years.

Was it contractual issues? Family responsibilities? Or had Marco simply decided it was time to step away and move on?

As Luca thought about it, it dawned on him that this must be the reason behind his invitation—and likely that of other drivers—to the dinner night.

So, it wasn't just an end-of-season celebration; it was also a farewell party for Marco Rossi. The Federation, ever efficient, must have decided to combine the events to avoid overloading schedules.

Luca sniffled at the thought, folding the letter as he leaned back.

Imagine being in the same hall with men and women who could buy Trampos outright if they wanted, he mused.

"Won't you attend? You look lost," Mallow asked, snapping Luca out of his thoughts.

"I will," Luca replied, glancing down at the invitation again. "It even says an invitee can bring two family members or friends."

"Woowwwwwww? It said THAT?" Mallow asked, his voice exaggeratedly high. "So, who are you bringing?"

Luca burst out laughing. "Definitely not you! Ha! I'm taking Sophia and Sara."

Mallow gave an overly dramatic frown. "I feel betrayed."

"Well," Luca began with a smirk, "Sophia might meet the child of an influential person who attends her school and could end up making some connections. And Sara, AS MY PA, would need to work closely with me during the event. Plus, who knows? Maybe she'll find the love she's secretly searching for but won't admit."

Mallow crossed his arms, mock pouting. "And here I thought we were closer than that."

Luca paused.

He just remembered to attend such an occasion he was obliged to be dressed in a Hawthorne branded attire. That meant a well-polished suit from Casa de Costura Reyes.

Luca had no attire yet. He'd never visited them for tailoring.

And he believed he should. After all, Casa Reyes had a huge branch here in Paris just like Lavelle did.