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Forbidden Fruit (MV x OC!)

Chapter 1

[doctorgirlsblog]

Forbidden Fruit (MV x OC!)

Note: helloo, new story now officialy in progress and my new official favourite since Dutch Lion vs. Merz Prinzessin! Let me know what you think, would appreciate it! 💙💙

Chapter 1: Hello, Sister

The clicks of champagne glasses could be heard everywhere, bright camera flashes mingling with the lavish golden decorations, murmuring the talk of the guests. Eleanor's radiant smile could be spotted from miles away, her arm intertwined with Max's. He looked at her and smiled. He couldn't believe the sweet woman before him was officialy his fiance now. Eleanor understood him, his life, supported his ambitions, and the most important thing of all, she loved him, just as much as he loved her.

The engagement party was in a full swing when a tap on a microphone could be heard and all noise stopped, everyone looking at the tall, elegant woman standing in the centre of the room, her blue, silk dress falling down around her, almost like water. She half-smiled, half-smirked at the newfound attention and raised her glass.

''I would like to propose a toast. To my ever-beautiful sister and her fiance. May you two lovebirds enjoy tonight. Cheers!''

Cheers could be heard all around the room, glasses clinking as she made her way over to the happy couple, people parting before her like the sea for a Moses.

Max looked at her as she approached. Valerie. Eleanor's younger sister and his soon to be sister-in-law. Her eyes glinted with hidden mischief as she moved towards them. Max always found her puzzling, less openly friendly than Eleanor, so he stayed away as much as he could without coming off as rude.

Valerie stopped just inches from them, her scent, something sharp and fruity, like distant rain and strawberries, filling Max's senses. ''Sister, you look stunning,'' she said, her voice low, unlike the Eleanor's chirpy one. She leaned in, pressing a brief, cool cheek against hers, her eyes, however, were already on Max. ''And Max,'' she added, straightening, her eyes locking with his, ''always the champion, even off the track.''

Max managed a tight smile. ''Valerie,'' he nodded stiffly.

''Oh my, my. Still all business, even on your engagement party?'' Valerie's smirk deepened, her eyes glinting dangerously. Her gaze dropped to his hand still resting on Eleanor's back, then flicked back up to meet his. Eleanor finally decided to break the awkward tension.

''Val, darling, thank you for coming.''

Valerie looked at her, smiling innocently. ''Of course, dearest sister. Wouldn't miss it for the world.'' She extended her hand to Max. ''Congratulations, Max. Welcome to the family.''

His hand closed around hers. Her grip was firm, her thumb brushing lightly over his, before she pulled her hand back.

''Now, if you'll excuse me,'' she purred, turning smoothly from them, ''I sense a very lonely gentleman sitting at the bar and I'm thirsty.'' She winked at them and pulled away, her hips swaying as she went, and for a split second, Max dared to look. He told himself it was nothing. Just Valerie being Valerie, playing her usual games. But a part of him, that small, hidden part, felt a strange pull, one he knew he should kill before it grows.

Fuck, he needed a drink too. Maybe couple of them.

Rest of the night passed in blur, conversation, gratulations and the soft music.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning after, the house felt peacefully quiet after the storm of the party. Max was already up and in the kitchen, sipping a strong coffee when Eleanor came in, her face bright as ever.

''Darling, guess what?'' she chirped, her eyes shining. ''Mom and I were talking, and with the wedding plans ramping up, it just makes perfect sense! Val is going to stay with us until the wedding!''

Max nearly choked on his coffee. ''What?'' He managed, the word coming out sharper than he intended.

Eleanor, oblivious to his sudden rigidity, hummed happily. ''Yes! I mean, she is my sister and my maid of honour and she is staying at the hotel.. She will be of big help to me here.''

Max stared at her, the mug cold in his hands. Valerie. Here. Until the wedding. He could already picture her, moving around the house. He pictured that damn blue dress.

The bell on the door broke him out of his trance and he gulped. Eleanor was already at the door, opening it, and the said she-devil smiled as they both looked at her. Dressed in simple sundress with a pair of big sunglasses perched on her nose, her red lips widened into big smile. ''Good morning, lovebirds! Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other now.''

Max felt a muscle tick in his jaw. The wedding was weeks and weeks away. Weeks of Valerie, under his roof. The devil wasn't whispering in the secret garden anymore; it was delivered straight to his door.

''Oh, Val, I'm so glad you're here! Come in, Max will take your bags.''

Max cleared his throat. ''Of course. Welcome, Valerie.'' He moved towards the two big suitcases, noticing how short her dress was. Valerie watched him, that smirk playing on her lips again. As he bent to grab the smaller case, she leaned towards Eleanor to hug her and her dress perched up. He looked away; she smiled.

''Such a gentleman, sister. You've certainly chosen well.''

Max stiffened, his grip tightening on the suitcase handle. He straightened up, meeting her gaze. ''It's no problem.''

Her hand landed on his arm, and she squeezed it gently. ''Thank you, Max. For letting me into your home. I promise, you won't even notice I'm here.''

Her fingers were cool against his skin. The innocent promise hung in the air, a lie so blatant it almost made him scoff. ''Oh, I'll notice'' he thought, his jaw tightening. ''Every damn second until you leave.'' Instead of saying anything he nodded, taking her bags upstairs and leaving the two sisters to chat.

He chose the room farthest from their own, just for a sake of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days blended with growing stack of floral samples and catering menus on the table in the living room. Eleanor still had to work until her vacation, dealing with last minute meetings and wedding planners, leaving Max in a house that suddenly felt both too large and suffocatingly small.

He'd try to fall back into his off-season routine: early morning workouts in the home gym, hours in the simulator, race analises. But even in the controlled environment of his home, he found his focus..fractured.

On Tuesday morning, Eleanor kissed him, promising to call later, and then the front door clicked shut. Max saw her car pull away. He was alone, or so he thought. He started making his usual post-gym protein shake when a voice, smooth as silk and laced with amusement, cut through the big kitchen.

''Still punishing yourself with those awful drinks, Max?''

He spun around. Of course she was home. Valerie leaned against the kitchen doorway, dressed in a loose silk robe that clung to her in all the right places. Her hair was still damp from a shower.

''Just maintaining,'' Max grunted, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.He avoided looking directly at the way the silk drapped around her. The fact that she was somehow always dressed in blue, his color, made things even worse. Hell, she never wore things like that when Eleanor was home. Never.

She pushed off the doorframe, moving with grace he know got to learn. She stopped at the counter opposite him, picking up a stray cherry from fruit bowl. ''Of course. No rest for the wicked, hmm?'' She popped the cherry into her mouth, her eyes fixed on his as she slowly chewed.

Max felt his face warm up. ''It's my job.''

''And you do it well. Though, I wouldn't tell if you cheated you know. With you diet plan, that is.''

Max tightened the grip on his shaker bottle. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt thick.

''Well, some of us prefer discipline.'' he said, forcing the words out.

Valerie chuckled. ''Oh, Max. You haven't known me long enough to make such sweeping statements. Maybe, I love being disciplined.''

Max took his shake and made a beeline for his room. ''Suit yourself, I have sim session soon.''

''Of course you do. Don't let me distract you, love.''

He felt goosebumbs rise at the nickname, but he didn't turn back. He couldn't.

[doctorgirlsblog]

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 10: Just Say Something

Beatrice loved the job, but the stupid mandatory events that came with it? Oh heavens, no. So when she managed an amazing excuse to get out of yet another gala and go play some tennis in peace, she didn't exactly thought about seeing the one person she didn't want to see there.

She walked onto the indoor court, private session she booked ensuring her some rest from the drama. As she approched her court, her steps faltered.

Across the net, on what was apparently her court, was Max. He was mid-serve, his frame coiled, muscles flexing under a simple white shirt. Sweat glistened on his skin, his hair slightly damp. He looked..hot.

''You're not thinking about it, snap out of it!'' she thought, shaking her head.

He lowered his racket, breathing heavily, and then he looked up. His eyes, that startling blue she knew so well, locked onto hers.

The air went dead still, noises faded away. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Surprise flared in his eyes, quickly morphing into that familiar, guarded expression. His jaw tightened. He hadn't expected her either.

''Beatrice,'' he said, his voice flat, cutting through the silence like a snapped string.

Beatrice gripped her racket bag strap tighter, her knuckles white. She felt a familiar fury and something else, something dangerous and unwelcome, coil in her stomach. ''Max,'' she countered, her voice equally devoid of warmth, carefully controlled. She let her gaze sweep over the empty courts around them, then back to him. ''It seems my reservation was misinterpreted. I'll just find another court.'' She started to turn, ready to walk away, to escape the electric tension that threatened to overwhelm her.

''No need,'' he said, his voice stopping her. He walked to the net, picking up a stray ball. He looked at her, his eyes simmering. ''Unless you're afraid to play.'' He spun the ball slowly in his fingers. ''Or have you forgotten how?''

''Game on,'' Beatrice said, her voice low, smirk plastered on her face. She wasn't one to back down, especially not from Max. Not anymore.

She bent over, her mini skirt not doing a good job at hiding her lacey panties underneath, and pulled her racket out of the bag. Max swallowed hard behind her.

The rally began. It wasn't a friendly game. Every shot was agressive, attempts to overpower the other exchanging.

''Still got that killer instinct, I see,'' Max grunted, wiping sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. His chest heaved slightly.

Beatrice didn't even breathe hard. She retrived a ball, spinning it in her hand before serving again. ''It's called talent, Max. Something you seem to lack off.'' Her serve was strong, forcing him wide.

He cursed under his breath, scrambling for the return. She was pushing him, forcing him to surrender, making him work for it, just as she had been forced to work for everything after he'd nearly broken her.

This wasn't just tennis match. It was their past, their anger, their unresolved mess, played out on a court.

A fierce forehand from Max sent her sprinting to the corner. Her skirt flared with the sudden movement, and for a split second, his eyes lingered.

''Out!'' Beatrice yelled, her voice sharp, though she knew it was a close shot.

Max slammed his racket against the court. ''No, it wasn't. It was in.'' His voice was low, edged with challenge. He walked to the line, pointing with his racket. ''Clear as the day.''

Beatrice walked towards him, her eyes blazing, the game suddenly forgotten. ''Don't you dare accuse me of cheating, Max. Not now, not ever.''

He met her gaze, fire meeting ice. ''And don't you dare pretend you're innocent, Beatrice. We both know how you love to play.''

They stood at the net, rackets forgotten, barely a foot separating them. Their chests heaved from the exertion, the sweat on their skin suddenly very apparent. His eyes dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second, then back to her furious green gaze.

His head dipped, his breath warm on her face, smelling of mint. She tensed, but didn't pull away.

Then, his mouth crashed down on hers.

It wasn't gentle, no. It was raw, it was hungry. Her hands tangled in his damp hair, pulling him closer, their bodies only separated by the thin net. He bit down, a sharp nip, and she gasped, a low moan escaping her throat as she pulled harder.

Then, just as quickly as it ignited, it shattered.

Beatrice tore herself away, shoving him back with surprising force, her chest heaving. Her eyes were wide, glittering with a mix of shock, self-loathing, and renewed rage. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, as if trying to erase the contact, the taste of him.

''Don't you ever pressume again, that you have right to do it,'' she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. ''That was a mistake. A moment of weakness. You disgust me, Max Verstappen.''

Max stared at her, his own face contorted.

His lips were still tingling from the kiss, the taste of her still on the tongue. Her words hit him like a physical blow, igniting a fresh wave of anger. ''Disgust you?!'' he snarled. ''You're the one who ruined everything! You're a user, Beatrice! You'll chew up anyone who gets too close, won't you? Christian, Charles...me. You just need to control. You broke us!''

''You walked away!'' she screamed back, the composure finally cracking. ''You left me to pick up the pieces! Don't you dare try to put that on me!''

''And what were you doing? Huh? Plotting! Manipulating! You were never in it for anything but power, were you?''

''You reduced me to nothing more than a burden, a whore, and now you think a few weeks of silence and a forced game of tennis earns you a free pass? Get out of my sight.''

''Want someone to blame, Bea? Look in the mirror.'' He grabbed his racket and his bag and stormed off, making her groan in anger.

She didn't bother changing. She stalked out of the club, ignoring the staff apologising to her about court reservation problem. She went straight home, poured herself a drink. The image of Max, his mouth on hers, kept replaying in her mind. He had initiated it. He had broken the distance. And for a second, she let him. She wanted it. She slammed the glass down. No. This could not happen again. Taking out her phone she dialed a number. She needed a distraction and she needed it now.

Meanwhile, Max drove like a man possessed. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The fight, her words, and that damn kiss replaying on a loop. He pulled into his garage, slamming the car door shut. He hated her. He hated her manipulation, her ambition, the way she'd dismissed him. But God, he still wanted her. It was a poison in his veins, a hard truth. ''Fuck it,'' he said, turning around and unlocking his car again. It couldn't end like this. He didn't have a plan, not really. Just an overwhelming urge to face her again, to push until something shattered, perhaps then, it won't hurt.

He pulled up to her building, taking a deep breath, he strode to the entrance and climbed up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. He knocked hard on her door, letting out a hard breath as he waited. The door swung open, revealing not Beatrice, but Charles Leclerc. He stood there, bare-chested, a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water still on his chest. His dark hair was wet, indicating he'd just stepped out of the shower. His eyes, wide with shock, locked onto Max's.

For a long, agonizing moment, neither man moved, air thick with tension.

''Max?'' Charles finally stammered, his voice laced with disbelief.

''Is the food here alre-'' a voice from inside stopped short. Beatrice appeared, clutching her silk robe tighter as she saw him. ''What are you doing here?''

Max scoffed. ''Really? You kiss me then go and fuck him?''

Charles's face went white, then a furious red. ''Max, what the hell are you talking about?''

Beatrice took a step forward, her eyes blazing. ''How dare you. Get out of my apartment.''

''Oh, I dare,'' Max snarled, taking another step inside, forcing Charles to move. ''So it's true, then? You already got him on a leash, just like you wanted. Do you like it, Bea? Rubbing it in my face? Did he do it better than I ever could, huh? Is that why he's still here?''

Charles's hand clenched into a fist.

''That's enough mate.''

''Is it, mate? I know exactly what she is. And you, Charles, you're just another blind fool falling for her little game. Just like I did. Just like Christian did. She uses people until they break, then she moves on to the next. Problem is, when you fall in love, you don't care if she's using you. You just want to stay close.'' For a moment, Charles's expression betrayed him and Max smiled knowingly. ''You love her, don't you?''

Beatrice's hand trembled as she pointed to the door. ''Get. Out. Get out of my apartment, get out of my life, you arrogant, self-righteous bastard!''

Charles turned around, facing both of them. ''Actually, I think I will leave. I can't stay here.''

''Charles don't be ridiculous. This is an absurd misunderstanding.''

Charles didn't even look at her. His gaze was fixed on Max, a mixture of shame and anger in his eyes. ''No, it's not,'' he said quietly, his voice strained. ''He's...not wrong. Not about everything. I can't do this anymore, Beatrice.''

He turned, grabbing his clothes and putting them on quickly. And just like that, with no word uttered, he was gone.

Beatrice stood frozen, staring at the now closed door. Charles just walked away. Because of Max.

Max, however, was still there. He stepped closer, closing the distance Charles had created between them. ''See? You did this, Beatrice. You always do. It's starting to get lonely at the top for you.''

And with that said, Max was gone too.

Taglist: @r0nnsblog @kinzy-shelby

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Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 9: It'a A New Dawn

BREAKING NEWS: Horner resigns, Beatrice Pierce Named New Red Bull Racing CEO

IMMEDIATE RELEASE

MILTON KEYNES, UK - In a stunning development that sent shockwaves through the Formula 1 world, Red Bull Racing announced today the immediate resignation of its long-serving CEO and Team Principal, Christian Horner. The decision, effective immediately, comes alongside the naming of Beatrice Pierce as the new CEO of Red Bull Technology and Red Bull Racing.

Pierce, formerly known for her significant financial backing of the team and her high-profile relationship with ex-Red Bull driver Max Verstappen post his accident, steps into a role of immense responsibility. This marks a radical shift in leadership, raising immediate questions about the team's future direction, strategic partnerships and internal dynamics.

''We thank Christian for his invaluable contributions over many years,'' read a terse statement from Red Bull, providing no further details on the sudden departure.

Is the new era coming?

The news spread like wildfire, phones buzzed, news channels flashed and socials exploded. Beatrice however, sat in what was now her office, Christian's old seat already replaced. The large, polished desk was bare, save for her laptop and a single, steaming cup of coffee. The chaos outside her walls was precisely the one she had orchestrated.

She hadn't just secured a strategist role for Max; she'd positioned him directly under her thumb, in a team now entirely under her command.

A soft knock interuppted her thoughts. It was Charles. He entered, a triumphant, almost predatory gleam in his green eyes, a mirror to her own.

''Hello, boss. May I come in?'' he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice as he closed the door behind him. ''You never fail to amaze me, Beatrice.''

''I try my best of course, Charles,'' slow, lazy smile spreading on her lips.

Charles stepped further into the room, taking a good look at the office. ''You moved faster than I thought. Horner barely had time to clear his desk.'' He chuckled. ''So, the first piece has fallen. What's next on your agenda, now that you're sitting on the throne?''

Beatrice's smile sharpened. ''It's just a seat, Charles. The real power is in what you do from it.'' She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. ''Max is back. As a strategist. I had Christian offer him the role, to keep him close. In my sight.''

''And that's where I come in, I pressume?''

''Precisely,'' Beatrice purred. ''He thinks he's getting a second chance, a way back into the inner circle. What he doesn't realise is that he's walking straight into the spider's web. And you, Charles, are going to be the spider that catches him.''

She held his gaze as he stepped around the table, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. ''What's the plan, boss?''

''Slowly, Charles. Very, very slowly. We'll start with subtle misdirections, whispers in the right ears. We'll sow seeds of doubt, create friction. Make his strategies seem..less than efective. Place it to his jealousy of you. And you, my champion, will be the one to expose every flaw, every misstep, every single error. I want him to lose everything he has left.''

''Consider it done. And what you promised to me..''

''Oh, Charles. I assure you, by the time it's over, you'll have everything you could possibly desire.''

Forceful knocking snapped them away from each other. Charles pulled away, straightened up, stepping back from the desk just as the door swung open.

It was Max. He stood in the doorway, his jaw tight, eyes cold and narrowed as they swept over Beatrice, then Charles. ''I was told you're the new CEO. So here I am. What do you want?''

Beatrice smiled at him creepily. ''Welcome, Max. See you had no problem walking inside on your own. Charles was just leaving. We were discussing some initial thoughts on the car setup for pre-season testing.''

Charles just gave Max a brief, almost dismissive nod. ''I'll leave you to it, boss. Looking forward to our next breefing.''

Max watched Charles leave, his jaw working, before turning his hostile gaze back to her. He sat across the table, forearm leaning on his knees. ''What the fuck are you playing at now, Beatrice?''

Her smile didn't falter. ''Playing, Max? I'm not playing. I'm doing my job. And you, just like all the others who work for me, will leave your personal grudges at home. Given your new position, you'll be reporting directly to Pierre Dubois for all day-to-day strategic directives. My time, as you can imagine, is now incredibly valuable. I have a company to run, team to manage. And frankly, I'm done playing your little housewife. So if you don't have any important questions, you're free to leave.''

He stood up, leaning over the table, trying to stay calm.

''Housewife? Wife doesn't leave a man in a wheelchair and go out to party with other men. I thought, what we had, was real. I pushed myself behind every limit I knew and had, to walk again. To be the man you deserve, again. To stop being a burden. Again. But you just don't think it's enough, do you? You always want more. Now him? Leclerc? Is he your new shiny toy, new fuck buddy? Huh? Someone you're going to fix, to make better?''

''A burden?'' she scoffed, not being able to hide the tremor in her voice. ''You called yourself a burden Max, not I. You suffocated yourself in it, in that chair, in that defeat. While I was out there, fighting your battles, you were spiraling into self-pity, pushing me away. I didn't leave a man in a wheelchair, Max. I left a man who accused me of being a whore and cheating on him, man trying to choke me. I left because there was nothing left for me to fix, nor to save. And I don't waste my time on lost causes.''

Her eyes, blazing now, swept over him. ''As for Charles? Yes, he's ambitious. He's relentless. He knows how to take what he wants. And unlike you, Max, he doesn't need to be fixed. He needs to be unleashed. And I intend to do just that.''

She took a deep breath as she leaned back in her chair. ''Our past, Max, is exactly that. Past. And it means nothing now. You are an employee. I tried, I gave you 5 years of my life, again. You crushed it in your hands. So, we're back to bussiness I guess.''

''You think I'll work for you? I said yes to Christian, not to a cold-hearted bitch. Good luck on finding yourself a new puppet, because I'm leaving.''

He stood up, not waiting for her reply and strode out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to rattle the glass.

As he walked out, she silently gave him right about one thing: it was personal.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Max kept true to his word and left that day. Short statement was made, citing ''personal reasons'' and ''mutual agreement''. No one dared to bring him up in conversation with Beatrice. Charles, meanwhile, found himself increasingly sidelined. Beatrice dissmissed him not once, but three times in one week, denying him the direct conversations they'd once shared. Charles knew he was played.

There was no kingdom waiting for him, not from Beatrice Pierce. He was just another puppet in her show, one that wasn't needed anymore the moment Max left, refusing to play her game. It was always about her and Max, after all.

Charles realised his mistake tragically too late. His exit clause, so carefully negotiated, couldn't be activated. No way to escape. He was bound to Red Bull, bound to Beatrice. And worst of it all?

He'd fallen in love with her.

Taglist: @r0nnsblog @kinzy-shelby

[doctorgirlsblog]

Hello loves, i'm back! My vacation was a tad bit too long, but i'm back since yesterday and happy to write again! Two new updates coming this week 💙💙💙

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 8: Sweet Cold Revenge

Note: let's welcome Charles Leclerc, bcs i need drama

She didn't step out of her bedroom until the late afternoon. When she did finally come downstairs, she found him sitting by the counter, gaze fixed on the door. She went past him, opened a bottle of water, and drank from it before she turned around to face him.

''Get out of here, Max.'' she said, her voice flat. Not a shout, not a plea, just a calm, cutting command.

Max scoffed as he stood up. ''You think I'd stay after what you did?'' He stepped closer to her, slamming his hand on the counter, watching her flinch. ''I wanted to walk again, for you. I wanted to get up, for you. So I did. I wanted it to be my apology for all the weeks of ignorance I deserved from you for doing what I did. And I wanted to make things right. But you just couldn't help it, could you? You got a chance for your fucking revenge after all these years, and you did it without blinking. So, congratulations, Beatrice. And good-fucking-bye.''

''Revenge?'' she echoed, and he stopped in his steps, his back turned to her. ''You think this is revenge, Max? You think I planned to carry you, to watch you fall apart in, to lose myself entirely, just so I could have a one-night stand and then throw it in your face? Is that what you think I've done?? This isn't revenge, Max. This is what's left. Of me. Of us.''

She took a step closer, his back still turned to her.

''You want to accuse me? Go on. But what about you? You were a coward back then, you surely still are. Must have made your father proud.''

Max flinched, the words striking home.

He didn't turn around. He couldn't. So he let out a breath and walked out the door, not wincing when he heard the glass shatter against the floor.

She stared at the closed door, the door through which Max had just walked, seemingly for good. She let out a bitter laugh, fingers pulling on her hair.

''You want me to be a bitch, Max?'' she whispered to the empty air, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. ''I''ll show you a bitch.''

Her hand, which had trembled earlier, took her phone out quickly. Max had thrown everything in her face, accused her of being a manipulative whore looking for revenge. After everything she had done for him, he had given her a role to play. And she would play it perfectly. Her thumb hovered over Christian's contact. She was still their sponsor, staying true to her word even though the circumstances had changed. The difference was, she knew who was in Max's former seat at the moment and what a blow to his ego that was. And Beatrice couldn't wait to meet Charles Leclerc in person.

The phone rang twice before Christian's voice came through the line.

''Beatrice? To what do I owe the pleasure? Everything alright?''

''Everything's just peachy, Christian,'' she replied in her usual sweet PR voice. ''In fact, it's better than peachy. I've been thinking about the upcoming season, and I would love to be more present again.''

There was a slight pause on Christian's end. ''Always, Beatrice. We would be happy to have you actively back.''

''Excellent,'' she purred. ''So, about the new driver. Charles.''

''Oh, yes, Leclerc. Our new gain. Poor lad was tired of Ferrari letting him down, and we saw our chance.''

''Yes. Well, I think it's time I personally became more involved with the new lineup. Starting with a visit to the factory next week. I want to meet Charles. Get a feel for his dynamic with the team. Perhaps discuss some new marketing strategies directly with him.''

''Of course, Beatrice,'' Christian said, sounding a little bit surprised at the sudden interest. ''I'll arrange everything. He'll be delighted. When would be a good time for you?''

''Whenever works for him,'' she said, a light smirk on her face. ''Tell him I'm flexible.''

She hung up before he could reply. The game had changed and Beatrice was ready to play. This time, for all costs.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

She arrived at the factory, her heels clicking along the empty halls, her pencil skirt hugging her curves perfectly. Christian met her in his office, smiling charmingly. ''Beatrice, it's good to see you again. Charles is just finishing up a sim session. I''ll send for him.''

''No need, Christian,'' she purred, leaning in and kissing a man on the cheek. ''I'll go to him. I want to see him in his element.''

''Yes, of course. Follow me.''

As they approached the simulation room, Beatrice could hear the low thrum of the machinery. Christian opened the door, and there he was: Charles Leclerc. He looked younger than she expected, even if he was same age as Max, impossibly lean, with an intense focus on his face as he navigated a virtual Monaco circuit. His dark curly hair was slightly dishevelled, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was as soft as it looked.

Christian cleared his throat. ''Charles, a moment. Beatrice is here to meet you.''

Charles straightened in the sim, pulling off his headset. His eyes, a startling shade of green, pierced into hers. Beatrice offered him a slow, captivating smile. ''Charles,'' she purred, extending a hand that she didn't expect he would take in his and kiss it gently, all while still looking into her eyes. ''Pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you.''

His smile widened, yet he still didn't let go of her hand. ''Pleasure is all mine, Beatrice.''

She felt the subtle shift in his grip. He was charismatic as hell and probably a big trouble. Christian cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the moment.

Beatrice turned to him, smiling. ''Well, Christian,'' she said, her voice bright, ''I think this is going to be a very exciting season, wouldn't you agree?''

He nodded politely before excusing himself, leaving the two to meet each other better.

''So, tell me, Charles..when can I get to know you better?''

He smirked, his hand finally letting go of hers as he leaned in closer. ''Tonight, a dinner perhaps? Away from all the prying eyes.''

''It's a date.''

Not a business meeting, not a casual chat, but a date. Charles's smirk lingered, a challenge in his green eyes matching one in hers. He knew this wasn't just about a major sponsor getting to know a new driver. He wasn't dump. He saw the headlines of her in that hospital where Max was. Woman before him was full of secrets.

''Perfect,'' he said. ''I'll send you the details.''

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

A sleek, black designer dress hugged her frame without being overtly revealing, paired with a jewerly from Charles's favourite Monaco brand. She did her homework indeed.

Charles had chosen a discreet, yet very elegant restaurant tucked away in a quiet part of the city. When she arrived, he was already sitting at the table, looking even more striking in a white button-up and suit pants, one button on his shirt undone, showing the jewerly underneath. He rose as she approached, eyes sweeping over her form.

''Beatrice,'' he greeted her with a kiss on her cheek, pulling out her chair. His smile was easy, charming as he kept observing her.

They spoke about the team, the upcoming season, his expectations. Beatrice listened, adding comments about sponsorship here and there.

Then, subtly, she shifted the conversation. ''It must be..exhilarating, to be in that car,'' she mused, leaning slightly forward, her voice dropping down. ''To have that kind of control, that raw power at your fingertips..to put it into submission.''

His eyes darkened. ''It is,'' he shifted slightly. ''But I'm good at what I do.'' He was a driver, used to navigating dangerous curves. She, he realised, was just another one. And he was ready to take it.

Beatrice held his gaze. ''Oh, I don't doubt that for a second, Charles. But what about when the car fights back? When the team makes a mistake? When the world seems to conspire against you, even when you're doing everything right?''

''That's when you have to be even better. That's when you learn to adapt. To fight dirty, if you have to. To use everything at your disposal.''

A slow smile spread across her lips. ''Exactly. And do you know, Charles, I find myself in a similar position. Sometimes, the only way to truly win is to ensure that those who underestimated you...regret it deeply.'' Her eyes dropped to his hand, then back up to his face, in silent invitation.

Charles realised this wasn't just about racing. It was something far more personal.

''So,'' he said, leaning back slightly, a dangerous glint in his eye. ''What exactly do you have in mind, Beatrice?''

''Now we're talking.''

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the same time, Max was beaming with happiness after his phone call with Christian, who offered him a job on the team again, as a racing strategist. What he didn't know was how confused Christian himself was about it when he got a request from Beatrice, to do just that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beatrice leaned across the table, her cleevage on full display. ''Imagine, Charles, a season where your talent isn't just supported, but worshipped. Where every ressource, every decision, car update, is molded to you. I can make that happen, Charles. I have the resources, the influence..and the will.''

''And what would you want in return, Beatrice?''

Beatrice smiled. ''Your loyalty, Charles. And your trust.'' Her hand moved across the table, her fingers tracing a slow path across his wrist. ''And perhaps..a little bit of your time. I get awfully lonely in this business.''

''Good for you then, that I'm very good at paying my debts. And that I know about your little problem, called Verstappen.''

Her smile widened. ''Of course you do. He took everything, and gave nothing in return. I gave him a position on the team, again. I want to see him crumble.''

''You're something else. Get up,'' he said, smashing a couple of euro bills onto the table before pulling her hand. She arched an eyebrow at him in silent question.

''I do love a challenge, but before you make me a king, we have another bussiness to tend to.''

They barely reached the door of his hotel room when he slammed her against it, grinding against her back with an already growing erection. She moaned at the harsh treatment, and he somehow managed to unlock the door before he pushed her down onto the bed, watching her with wide, blown eyes as he unbottoned his shirt.

Beatrice landed on the soft mattress with a gasp, her eyes never leaving his. The crisp, white shirt fell open, revealing a sculpted chest, muscles strained. The chain from earlier glinted against his collarbone.

He straddled her, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her head, his breath warm on her skin. ''You said you get lonely,'' he murmured against her neck, and she let out a moan. ''I aim to fix that tonight.''

She arched into him, silently begging for more, but then his hand snaked around her throat, slamming her back into the mattress, not enough to hurt, but hard enough to bruise.

''You won't even remember the fucking Verstappen when I'm done with you.''

Taglist: @r0nnsblog @kinzy-shelby

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 7: Long Road Ahead

Note: sorry guys, they just become toxic all over again. I love red flags 😈

Coming back to Miami after four years felt surreal. They had managed to slip through the airport, avoiding the press, and were now inside Beatrice's apartment building, unseen. Max had been quiet ever since they left the hospital, answering shortly to her questions. She hadn't pressed him, thinking nothing of it. After all, who could blame him? Who would be in a mood for chatter, being wheeled around in a wheelchair, not being able to do anything without someone's help? Beatrice decided to focuse on him instead, on the Max she knew beneath the frustration. A person, not an invalid.

In the elevator's large mirror, she kept looking at his reflection. His head stayed bowed, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, light years away from hers. The doors finally slid open, revealing her spacious living room bathed in warm glow of Miami sunshine. Everything was exactly as she had left it - tidy, well-maintained, and she had Chloe to thank for it. She kept checking in, overlooking the place for the last years because Beatrice decided long ago that it was Max who needed tending, not her house miles away from him.

Max looked around silently, observing the place and slowly taking in every detail. Then, so she almost missed it, he murmured something. ''It's beautiful.''

Beatrice's heart softened at his quiet observation. It was the most he'd said since they left the hospital, a small crack in the thick silence. ''Thank you,'' she replied softly, her voice gentle. ''It's home. That's what's important.''

She wheeled him further into the room, towards the large windows overlooking the vibrant city underneath them.

''Do you want to sit here by the window?'' she asked, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. ''You can see the ocean from here on a clear day. Also, I will rearange the furniture so that the table and sofa are near the window, so you're more comfortable. I already notified my housekeeping; they'll come tomorrow and make some more changes upstairs too. I want you to feel at home here, Max.''

He nodded slowly, his gaxe still distant, but he didn't resist it. ''I'll make us some coffee,'' she said, moving towards the kitchen area. ''Or tea? Whatever you prefer.''

''Coffee,'' he murmured, his voice still low.

As she waited for the coffee machine to start, Beatrice glanced back at him. He hadn't moved a muscle. She knew this wouldn't be easy. He wasn't just adjusting to a new way of life; he was returning to a life he had left behind, a life that had continued without him for four long years.

She took two warm mugs, rich aroma filling the air, and brought them over to him. She sat on the arm of a nearby chair, close but not crowding him, picking her own mug and taking a sip.

''How are you feeling, love?''

It seemed that the magic word snapped him back into reality. His eyes finally landed on hers, and he opened his mouth, but instead of words, a chocked sob broke out. It was enough for her to abandon her coffee and stand up abruptly, landing in front of him, crouching down and taking hold of his hands. ''Hey..'' she squeezed them gently, swiping her thumbs over them. ''No more shame, no more self-pity. You're the strongest person I know. You will get through this. And I'll be damned if I ever let you do it alone, even for a minute.''

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days settled into a new rhythm, with Beatrice going back to her job, still deciding to spent mayor of time in a home office, always with one ear on standby in case Max needed something.

Then there was the physio. Three times a week, a stoic but kind therapist Elena would arrive, being nothing but supportive and understanding for Max's condition. Max was pushing himself to the limit every time, giving his best and more, but seeing no direct progress made him angry. It started subtly, a muttered curse here and there, when he couldn't grasp a water bottle, a dropped pen he couldn't reach, a sigh of exasperation when Beatrice tried to help him adjust in his chair. Then the snaps came. A sharp, ''I can do it!'' when she offered a hand, a disimissive wave when she suggested an alternative. He was starting to drown in self-pity.

Beatrice absorbed it all. She saw the rage, the self-loathing, the despair that kept flickering in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. But she held firm to her promise. She didn't scold, didn't argue. Instead, she gave him space, softly reassuring him. ''Okay Max. I'm here if you need me.'' Then she would busy herself with her work again. If he sulked, she'd leave him a cup of coffee beside and not say anything about it. Later, when she would see the empty mug, she would smile.

One afternoon, after a particulary hard session, she found him with phone in his hand, his knuckles white from gripping it too hard, as he watched the latest Formula One race.

''I'm useless, Bea,'' he murmured, his voice hoarse. ''Just a burden.''

Beatrice knelt beside his wheelchair, taking his phone from his hand and shutting it down. ''You are not a burden, Max. You're trying. You're fighting, every single day. It takes more strength to do that, as it does to race.''

''It's not the same, Bea. This..this isn't racing. It's not even living.''

Beatrice didn't flinch.

''No, it's not the same,'' she started gently, her voice calm and steady. ''I watched you fight for your life, for every breath. You battled your way back from the brink of death when doctors saidd you might never wake up. That's not just existing, Max. That's living. That's a fight most people wouldn't even attempt.''

couple days later

When she stepped inside the penthouse, papers scattered from her hands, falling all over the floor. Pieces of glass from the smashed coffee table were everywhere, mixed with drops of blood. And beside them, Max, on the floor, gaze cold and locked forward, not sparing her a glance.

She stepped further in, still in shock, her heels helping her avoid glass pieces shattered around.

''Max? What happened here? Are you hurt?''

His head turned towards her, and he let out a sinister laugh.

''I wish I was. Maybe it would all be over then. Look at this! Look at me!''

She stepped closer, her hands shaking, noticing the big piece of glass he held in his trembling hands, fear clutching at her throat. ''Baby, please put that down. You'll hurt yourself.'' This was more than just a bad day. This was a breaking point.

''Max, please,'' she pleaded again, taking another cautious step, her gaze fixed on the sharp glass. ''Just give it to me. Let me help you.''

He scoffed, a bitter, broken sound coming out. ''Can you make my legs work? Can you put me back in my damn car? Can you make me Max again?!'' His voice rose, tinged with anger. ''You can't fix this! No one can!'' His fingers wrapped tighter around the glass, and the fresh drops of blood fell on the floor.

''Look at me! Look at what I am. A pathetic cripple. A burden. You don't know what it feels like to have nothing!''

Beatrice finally snapped. Her voice, still trembling, was laced with fury.

"You're right. I don't know how it is. I can't know. But I know how it is sitting in a hospital room, watching the person you loved for most of your life fading away. I know how it is celebrating birthdays by crying over you, how it is sacrificing every aspect of my own life to be there just in case you open your eyes. I know how it is trying to distract you from the fact that your legs don't function. I know how it is to break myself every single day, so you could at least smile."

Her voice cracked on the last word, but her eyes kept burning with rage.

"So yes, Max, I don't understand. I won't understand why you keep throwing yourself under bus just to whine how it hurts afterwards. I've been nothing but supportive of you, I've tried and tried and tried, and this is how you want to thank me? By killing yourself?! Good. Then go on. Because you're right. You're not the Max I know."

Her words seemed to snap Max out of whatever trance he was in, but as he finally looked at her, her eyes were cold, all emotions drained from her face. She silently stood up and positioned his wheelchair up again, before helping him sit in it. She didn't utter a word, leaving for her room as soon as he was settled.

Max didn't see her again that day. She never came out of the room and when the sun finally set down, he took an elevator to the second floor, coming to a halt in front of her door, knocking softly. She opened the door after a short silence, looking at him, already dressed in her pajamas. Her eyes were still cold. ''Need help to get in bed?''

Max stuttered. ''I...no. I wanted to..talk?''

She leaned on the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest. ''About?''

''About what I did. I apologise.''

''Good.''

Wait, that was it? She won't say anything else? He opened his mouth again but she stopped him. ''Good night Max.''

The doors closed and he let out a sigh. He managed to fuck up. Again.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Beatrice kept her routine for the next couple of weeks. She would greet him, help him when she saw he needed it, but otherwise she didn't talk much. At least, not to him. She was constantly on her phone, either with Chloe or her management team, and when she wasn't, she was always occupied with either a tablet on her hand or laptop sitting on a coffee table. Max knew he deserved it. He had pushed her to her breaking point, and she likely did not know what to do with him anymore, yet she still didn't say anything cruel or refuse to help him. But her silence poked him more than words ever could. It seemed like..she had given up. Max needed to do something, but he didn't know if he was even able to do anything anymore. He couldn't let her fade away, not now when he finally..

He heard her heels clicking against the stairs and when he turned around, his breath hitched. A mini, silk red dress hugged every curve of her body, her long legs even more accented with black heels. Her hair bounced around her freely as she came down. Max gulped.

''I'm going out, don't wait up. We have a corporate event. If you need something, Silvie is here until 11pm.'' Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the vibrant, confident woman before him. She didn't meet his gaze, instead reaching for a small clutch on the hall table.

Max stared after her as she walked to the door, his throat tight. This wasn't the Beatrice who used to fuss over him before leaving, who'd give him a quick kiss, a warm smile. The front door clicked shut with a soft finality, leaving Max alone with the lingering scent of her perfume.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beatrice was over and done with all the bullshit and emotional drainage, so when Chloe kept bringing drinks and giving advice about ''letting loose'', she actually listened. She got drunk, she danced with some nameless guy until she got bored, but she felt good. In some weird way.

''B, I'm telling you, I was all team Max but the guy keeps using you in every way possible. Toxic as fuck. Bae, you're almost thirty. You've been giving your everything to him for 15 years. Go find some dude, kiss him, fuck it out of your system and then send Max fucking Verstappen home to his family. You deserve happiness.''

The elevator dinged, and she stumbled out, the expensive red silk dress feeling foreign on her body, her heels clicking too loudly in the silence. Then she saw him. Max, sitting on the sofa, motionless in the dim living room, starring directly at her.

The lingering scent of a stranger's cologne, mixed with the sweet smell of champagne, filled the air. She felt a fleeting pang of guilt, but it was quickly shaken away. She was allowed to live her life.

''Max,'' she slurred, her voice thick, a cunning smile on her lips. ''Still up? Thought I told you..not to wait.'' Her head swam, and she giggled. She swayed, a bit too much, and caught herself on the doorframe, kicking her heels off in the process. ''Don't look at me like that. You..don't get to look at me like that anymore.''

She stumbled over to him, swaying slightly before she sank down onto the sofa next to him, her long legs now dangling over his lap. She streched out lazily, like a cat, her bare arm brushing his side, before she giggled again.

''You know..'' she murmured huskily. ''I wonder if...your friend down there still works..even if other parts don't.'' Her eyes dropped pointedly, lingering on his lap, a question anything but innocent. Max froze. He could smell the other man, but he could also smell her. Her scent, always so damn familiar. His jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't.

Beatrice leaned closer, her lips just inches from his ear. ''Cat got your tongue, Max?'' she whispered, purring lowly. Her fingers, cool and light, brushed against his thigh, knowing that he regained some feel back there. He could feel her breath on his neck, the warmth of his body against his. He took a shaky breath. ''Get off me, Bea.'' he said, his voice strained, barely a whisper. But drunk Beatrice was a menace Beatrice so she decided to push his buttons even more. ''Not like you could fuck me, even if you wanted to.''

What she surely didn't expect at all, was a sudden shift of his oh-so-capable body, as he wrapped his arms around her, standing up suddenly and flipping her on her stomach, his legs caging her in. She sobered up instantly. ''Your legs..''

Max snickered. ''I wanted it to be a surprise. To show you how much I tried these past weeks, for you. How much I gave, to get back to my old self, for you. And then you leave, dressed like a little attention whore and come back home reeking of some cheap bastard's cologne. Such a little attention bitch, aren't you?''

The air in the room thickened. Max, still standing over Beatrice, pinning her with the sudden, terrifying strength, was a Max she hadn't seen in years. Her mind raced, the alcohol-induced haze dissipating like smoke. His words, dripping with venom and raw fury, sobered her up.

She lay stunned, her face pressed into the sofa cushions, the silk dress twisted around her, dangerously high. ''Max, what..how long?'' she managed to gasp, her voice muffled, fear and a desperate confusion lacing her tone. Max leaned closer, his voice a low growl. ''Long enough. Long enough to see you smiling on your phone. Long enough to watch you walk out that door almost every night, leaving me here, in the mess, while you went off to find...'' His grip on her sides tightened. ''You said I wasn't the Max you knew. Well, who the hell are you, Beatrice? The woman who gave up on me? The woman who'd rather get drunk and pretend I don't exist?''

''You hid this from me.'' Beatrice finally choked out with a trembling voice.

He pulled back, giving her space to turn around.

''I wanted to tell you. Then you went out and fucked someone else like none of this mattered.''

She looked after his retreating form, watched him walk away like it was routine, and she let out a chocked sob. "Fuckk!!!!!!"

Taglist: @r0nnsblog @kinzy-shelby

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 6: Seal The Deal

Note: @kinzy-shelby you requested to heal u next chap, so i did 🤍

Max didn't cry. Never, no. Not when his father yelled at him when he was just a kid in a kart, not when he scraped his knees raw, not when he was left behind. Max didn't cry when Lily was born. Max was strong. For himself, for his family, for the expectations.

Max didn't cry when he found out his legs didn't function anymore. Or that they might never again.

But as kept looking at the photos in his hospital room, each one carefully described on the back with a date and the event it captured, something in Max broke. Four years of his life, four years of his daughter's life without him, four years of his career - all gone.

So he cried. He cried for all the lost years, for all the things he never dared to cry for. He cried for hours, until there were no more tears left to shed.

The last photo he held was almost ruined, edges crushed with years of longing and hidden pain. The one he managed to push away, again. The one he buried in himself, for the love of his father that never came in the end, for his career that was now over and done.

He didn't know that she had spent every single day of those four damn years beside him. Not until his mother told him, not until he broke down in her arms like a little boy all over again. Max was alone. Max was no longer adressed as a 4 - time world champion, no. He was a ghost of his own once celebrated career. No one wrote about it anymore, no one cared for that long. Life went on without him.

Max wanted to see Lily, desperately. But he didn't know how. So when the little girl walked into his room, hand in hand with Beatrice, a sob, raw and broken, tore out of his throat. Lily jumped onto his bed, her tiny arms wrapping around his shaky form. "Daddy is awake!" she yelled, giggling, and Beatrice couldn't help but smile softly at her joy.

Max held her close, not letting go, afraid that if he did, she would dissappear again from him and this new life he woke up to.

After what seemed like an eternity, his gaze finally landed on the figure still standing beside the door, leaning against the wall.

"Beatrice."

She nodded at him gently, still not moving.

"I'll leave you alone. I just brought Lily to see you."

"No! Don't go, please." He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "I didn't mean it... I'm an idiot."

"You are." She smiled.

"You stayed."

"I did." She smiled again.

"Why?"

"Let's talk afterwards, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Lily finally left with her aunt, Beatrice stepped inside again, opting for the chair right beside his bed. Max kept looking at her, nervously playing with the edge of the blanket, not saying anything.

''So,'' she started, her eyes softly taking in his form, ''I guess I-''

''I'm sorry, Beatrice. For everything.'' His voice was thick with emotion. ''For hurting you, for making you feel unworthy and used when you were everything I ever wished for. I'm sorry for lying to you, for saying all those bad things. I'm sorry for leaving when you needed me the most. I'm sorry for pushing you away, again, even though you were the only one who stayed all these years. My career is done, I might never walk again, and I want you to know that I fucking love you, Bea. I never ever stopped loving you. And I'm yours. If you'll have me.''

Silence took over the room. He knew that it was a lot, but he had a feeling that if he didn't let it all out right now, he might become a stupid coward once again and push her away. Again. His hand somehow found hers in the meantime, squeezing it gently, eyes searching her wide ones.

''I..,'' she began slowly, clearing her throat. ''All I ever wanted from you, Max, was you. Not your fame, not your money, not the spotlight that followed you. I wanted you. All your good sides, all your bad sides, the messy, complicated whole of you. And then you broke up with me. Without uttering a single damn word. I was still a kid. So yes, I decided to do the same to you. Yes, I spent years building my career, fueled by the revenge and your downfall. Yes, Max, I wanted you to hurt like I did. God, I wanted you to burn.'' She let out a shallow laugh. ''But what I didn't count on, was burning myself in the process. When I walked away from you that day in the cafe, I didn't believe a single word that came out of your mouth. Then...then I found out about the...incident. And I needed to see you, just to..I needed to make sure you were alive. That's how much influence you had, still have over me.'' She let out a shaky breath.

Max opened his mouth ready to apologise again, but she stopped him with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

''No, Max. You need to hear this. You need to know. They told me you might never wake up again. And even if you did, there would be... consequences.'' Her gaze fell down to his legs, wrapped under the blanket. ''Yet the only thing that I heard, was that you might die believing that I hated you. I wished I did. God, this would be so much easier if I did. I wouldn't have spent the last four years, praying to a God I wasn't even sure I believed in, every single day that you would open those eyes again. So you could know, so I could finally tell you, that..that I don't hate you at all. That I never did. That I never will.'' She finally looked up and into his eyes, blue oceans swimming in unshed tears.

''I only hate how much I wish I didn't love you, Max'' she confessed, her voice barely a whisper, raw with a pain that mirrored his own. ''Because my life would be so much easier if I didn't.''

''I don't deserve you.'' he murmured softly, almost whispering, his gaze fixed on their intertwined hands.

''Deserve..'' she repeated softly, a sad smile touching her lips. ''Neither of us deserved the way things turned out, Max. All these years..they took their toll on both of us. Nothing else mattered the moment I thought you hadn't survived it.''

''Why, Bea?'' he asked, his voice barely a whisper. ''Why stay? Why not just...walk away? You had every right to.''

''Because, you idiot,'' she said as a small, watery laugh escaped her lips. ''Despite everything you put me through..I couldn't. Not like that. Because I watched as everyone else left, one by one. Because I couldn't do that to you, not after I found out you kept that photo beside your bed for all these years. Because I knew that you didn't lie. That you did love me.''

Before he managed to open his mouth again, Beatrice stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor, and in the next instant, she was sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. Her hands, trembling slightly, cupped his bewildered face, her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks before she finally kissed him.

Time seemed to stop. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside the bed suddenly quickened as the kiss deepened, her fingers tangled in his already messy hair and his hands snaked around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Her body seemed to melt against his, a perfect fit, like two missing pieces of puzzle finally put together.

She was the first to pull away, resting her forehead against his and letting out a shaky breath. His eyes remained closed, his hands trembling slightly at the sides of her waist.

''I don't care if you never race another day in your life, Max,'' she whispered against his lips.

''I don't care if you never walk again. I'll be your race. I'll be your legs. I'll be right here, at your side. And we're going to make it through this. Together.''

When Max finally opened his eyes, they were bloodshot red from unshed tears, and her fingers instantly found their way to gently wipe the single one that managed to escape.

''No, no, no,'' she murmured, her voice soft but firm, her thumb tracing the curve of his cheek. ''I'm here, okay? I know that it's hard, Max, I do. But you'll win this battle. I know you will. You just won't have to face it alone, ever again.''

He reached for her hand, his grip firm despite the tremor that still ran through him.

''Okay,'' he said, his voice stronger this time. ''I'll get better, Bea. For you. I promise.''

''Good. Because you, mister, need a change of scenery. I'm taking you home. We're going to Miami.''

"Miami?!"

Taglist: @r0nnsblog

[doctorgirlsblog]

I SAID IT THEN I'M SAYING IT NOW. I WORKED THE WEEKEND AGAIN

KEY TO MAX'S 5TH WDC IS ME WORKING WEEKENDS FROM NOW ON EVERY RACE WEEK 😍😍😍😍🙊🙊🙊😍😍😍😍

Every time I didn't work, he didn't win 😭😭

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 5: Pain

Note: @kinzy-shelby you asked, and you shall recieve. Hope you like it!

Beatrice arrived at the hospital, her chest tight with anxiety. She rushed to the reception desk, slamming her hand on the polished surface, startling the older nurse seated there. ''Sorry,'' she gasped, her voice rushed and breathless. ''I need to see Max Verstappen. Car accident. I'm his...'' She trailed off, the words hanging in the air. What was she to him now? A friend? A collegue? Ex girlfriend?

She jolted as a warm hand covered hers. The older nurse offered a gentle, sympathetic smile. ''You zoned out, dear. It's alright. Let me take you to him.''

Beatrice let out a shaky breath she hadn't realised she was holding, nodding her head in silent agreement. She followed the nurse, noticing they bypassed the general wards, heading directly towards a set of mechanically sealed doors marked

''No Access: Intensive Care Unit''.

She was guided into a small changing room, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling her nostrils. A green gown was pressed into her trembling hands, and she was instructed to cover her hair with a cap. Her fingers fumbled with the ties, her mind racing with fear.

Finally dressed, the nurse scanned her ID badge, the door hissed open, and Beatrice was lead into a silent, sterile hallway. The silence was heavy.

They stopped before a door with a small sign that read ''Private Patient''. The nurse turned to Beatrice, her expression gentle but grave.

''Before you go in, sweetie, there are a couple of things you should now,'' she said softly. ''He had a very bad crash. Several broken ribs, a punctured left lung. Severe concussion, and we're still running tests for potential brain damage. He is currently on life support, in a coma.''

The words hit her like a train, the hallway spinning around her. Coma. The word echoed in the sudden silence that had fallen within her own mind. Her breath hitched, a sharp, painful intake of air. His image, vibrant and alive, just hours ago in the cafe was about to be shattered by his lifeless figure she was about to see. Her legs felt unsteady, threatening to buckle beneath her. She gripped the nurse's arm for support, her knuckles white against the green fabric. ''Can...can I still see him?'' she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible. The nurse nodded gently, her eyes filled with compassion. ''Of course, dear. Take your time. He can probably hear you, even if he can't respond.'' She placed a reassuring hand on Beatrice's arm. ''Just..be prepared. It can and it will be a shock.''

With a deep breath, Beatrice nodded again, her gaxe fixed on the closed door. The nurse offered a small smile and then gently pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, filled with the soft hum and rhythmic beeping of machines. Her eyes immediately fell on the figure lying still in the centre of the bed. He was pale, his face bruised and swollen, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Wires snaked from his chest and arms, connecting him to the various monitors that displayed flickering numbers and tracing lines.

A wave of nausea washed over her, a mix of shock, guilt and grief. She took a hesitant step into the room, her feet feeling heavy. The nurse followed her in, pointing to the chair beside the bed. ''You can sit here, dear. Stay as long as you need.'' Then she left, leaving Beatrice alone with the silent, still figure of the man who had once been everything, and then nothing, and now..this.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out a hand, her fingers trembling as they hovered just above his. She wasn't sure if she should touch him, if she even had the right to.

Finally, she gently brushed her fingertips against the back of his hand. His skin was cold. There was no response, no movement.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. The carefully constructed walls she had built around her heart after their painful separation finally crumbled completely, shattered by the sight of him lying so fragile and broken.She pulled the chair closer to the bedside and sank into it, her gaze never leaving his still face. ''Max,'' she whispered, her voice shaky. ''Oh, my God.''

She didn't know what to say, what she hoped he might hear. She stayed like that for a long time, just watching him, her hand never leaving his.

The door opened quietly, and a doctor entered, a clipboard with test results in his hand, expression stoic and professional. He approached the bed, his gaze flicking between the monitors and the papers in his hand. ''His condition remains critical,'' he stated, his voice calm. ''The brain trauma is severe. It could be a long time..if he wakes up at all. Chances are low, Miss.''

She fell back into the chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

''You."

Beatrice's eyes widened, and she quickly wiped the tears away, composing herself with a visible effort before turning around.

"Kelly, hello. I just came to see how he is. I'll leave you two alone now." She stood up, a sad smile playing on her lips, going past Kelly when she felt a sharp hold on her arm.

"Stop pretending. I know everything." Kelly's voice was tight, laced with both a raw, wounded anger that made her hand tremble and a profound sadness, like a girl suddenly betrayed. Beatrice felt her heart skip a painful beat, but she tried not to let it show on her face. "Kelly, I really don't understand."

Kelly gave a short, humorless laugh. "Of course you do. Just a sponsor, no shit. I found the photo." Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "You two. Looooong time ago." And she slapped the creased picture in question against Beatrice's chest.

Beatrice pulled it up with shaky hands, her gaze flickering nervously towards Kelly before settling on the image. The edges of the print were softened with age and handling, and a familiar crease ran across the middle, a testament to countless anxious unfoldings. On it, undeniably clear to anyone who looked, were Max and Beatrice. He was looking directly into the camera, a bright, carefree smile illuminating his face, his right hand possessively around her waist, as she gazed up at him, her young eyes glinting with happiness. She remembered the warmth of his hand pressing into her side, the sound of his easy laughter just moments before the picture was taken – a silly post-race celebration after a junior victory, the cheap, fizzy champagne they'd shared tasting like pure joy.

"Where did you get this?" she muttered, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes still glued to the captured moment.

"From his bed drawer." Kelly's voice was flat, defeated.

Beatrice felt a sharp pierce in her heart, a sudden, agonizing pang of guilt. A memory flashed through her mind – their conversation from hours ago, when he finally told her the truth and she didn't believe him, leaving, eager to maintain her carefully constructed distance.

He hadn't lied. Max hadn't lied. And she had dismissed him, pushed him away, and now he lay here, unreachable in a coma. Oh God.

Her head snapped towards the bed, her gaze locking onto his still form, tears already welling and rapidly spilling down her face.

"I didn't deserve this. I was only-"

Kelly kept speaking, her words a muffled drone in Beatrice's ears. The blood rushed to her head, a dizzying wave washing over her. She swayed on her feet, the frantic drumming of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She clutched at the cold metal railing of his bed, her knuckles white as she supported her falling body, taking a ragged, shaky breath.

Max is gone. She had let him go. Max didn't lie to her.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

First it was weeks, then months, then years. They all came and went, blending into the silence of his hospital room.

His 28th birthday, the colorful cards from his friends and colleagues all carefuly arranged on the bedside table, the only sign of color in the otherwise white room. Beatrice had brought a small, unlit birthday candle stuck in a muffin. She sat beside him, her voice a low murmur as she recounted old memories, her fingers interwined with his almost cold hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His 29th, another year gone, marked by the same damned silence. This time, his mom brought a small cake, singing a muted ''Happy Birthday'' with Beatrice. Lily, already big, toddled around his bed, babbling softly. Beatrice watched them, taking photo of Lily reaching for his hand, adding it to the growing collection. Her nanny would gently coax her away after a while. Kelly, though not coming anymore after finding out about the two, ensured Lily's visits, wanting her daughter to know her father, even if in this state.

Beatrice adored Lily. The little girl's wide, innocent blue eyes and soft blonde hair were a carbon copy of Max, reminding her almost every day of what could have been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three decades. A milestone that should have been marked with celebration, with laughter and fiest. Instead, Beatrice sat alone with him for a long stretch, the single ''30'' baloon beside her. She brought his favourite tiramisu, eating a small bite out of it, feeling a single tear trace a path down her cheek. She spoke to him, about past, present, about the plans that she had. His mother still came when she could, often accompanied by his sister. And Lily, of course, when she wasn't away with her mother.

Yet Beatrice, never missed a single day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Year's Eves were spent with the quiet hum of a melancholic melodies playing in the background, a soft kiss pressed to his still forehead at the stroke of midnight, her fingers tracing the rough stubble on his cheek with a tenderness born of regret and a lingering love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When his 31st birthday arrived, the weight of the lost years finally crashed down on her, and she finally allowed herself to break. The sterile white of the hospital room seemed to amplify her grief, each passing beep of the monitor a stark reminder of his suspended life. She buried her face in his mother's shoulder, the older woman's embrace offering a small measure of comfort as Beatrice mourned someone who still lived, yet felt so irrevocably lost.

"I don't know what to do anymore. I'm just so tired…" she confessed, the words a choked whisper, feeling a fraction of the immense weight on her chest finally lifting in the shared grief.

His mother held her tighter, stroking her hair gently. "You're doing everything you can, my dear. You've never left him. He will find his way back to you."

Will he though?

The silent question hung heavy in the air, unanswered and uncertain.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

As the first snow slowly covered Monaco, painting the world in a soft, silent white, she sat beside Max, reading aloud from one of her favourite books. Suddenly, a subtle change flickered across the monitor displaying his brain activity. A slight spike.

Beatrice froze, the book slipping from her grasp and falling silently to the floor. She starred at the screen, her own heart pounding frantically against her ribs. She pressed the call button, nurses arriving quickly, calling for a doctor as they led her out of the room.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor stepped outside, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. ''There has been a change,'' he confirmed, his voice low. ''A slight increase in neurological activity. It's still very minimal, but it's ...the beginning.''

She let out a shaky breath. Four years. Could this be the first sign? After all this desperate time, flicker of hope ignited within her, a tiny spark in the long darkness.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

When the last snow melted and the first flowers bloomed, Max squinted his eyes at the sun coming through the open window. There, beside the table, sat a silhouette of a woman, looking outside, her back turned to him. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt tight with soreness. What came out was a single cough, which was enough to make her gaze snap back to him, eyes widening in suprise. She rushed over to him, looking at him with a shcok and a relief. It was first then that Max realised it was Beatrice. Yet, she looked...different, somehow. She couldn't have aged in a couple of days, could she?

She said nothing as she pushed a glass against his lips, allowing him to sip the water and regain his voice.

When he was done, she left before he had a chance to say something, doctors and nurses rushing inside. Max was confused. What happened? Why was everyone looking at him like that?

The last thing he remembered was...a sharp pain, the screech of tires. The accident.

The doctors spoke in hushed tones, their words a jumble of medical jargon that he failed to understand. Coma. Brain trauma. Years. His legs. What? They left as quickly as they came, charts in hands, leaving him even more confused with a growing sense of dread settling in his stomach.

He looked to the door, where she stood hesitantly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

She took hesitant steps forward, coming to his bedside.

''Max,'' she said softly, her voice a little rough. He tried to speak, but his throat was still sore. He managed a weak, raspy, ''Bea?''

Her eyes welled up. ''Yes, Max. It's me.''

A thousand questions flooded his mind, but the words caught in his throat. He looked around the room, taking in all the cards and flowers with ballons. ''What..what happened?'' he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.

Beatrice hesitated, her gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to his. ''You were in an accident. A bad one. It's..been a while.''

''How long?'' The question hung in the air.

She took a deep breath. ''Four years, Max.''

Four years. Silence took over the room, pressind down on his chest until he felt like he couldn't breathe at all. He tried to get up, to move away from that damn bed, but his body remained stubbornly still.

''My legs..why can't I move my legs??!!'' he exclaimed, his voice raising in panic. ''What the fuck is going on?!''

Beatrice's face paled, her eyes widening with a fresh wave of distress. She already knew, but she hadn't known how to tell him.

''Max,'' she began, her voice trembling slighlty as she reached for his hand. ''You..you were badly injured. There was a spinal cord damage.''

He kept silent, trying to move his legs again, willing them to respond, but there was nothing.

''No,'' he whispered, his voice raw with disbelief. ''No, that's not..no.'' He squeezed her hand, his grip tightening with a desperate plea for her to deny what she had just said. ''Tell me it's not true, Beatrice.''

Tears streamed down her face now, silent and unstoppable. She held his hand tightly, he own trembling. ''I'm so sorry Max..''

He starred up at the ceiling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Four years. Four years he had been lying here, his body broken. He will never race again.

A wave of anger, sharp and bitter, washed over him. ''Leave me alone.''

She flinched at his tone, her tears flowing more freely. ''Max..you need time, to adjust..doctors said with time you might walk agai-''

''Adjust to what?!'' he spat out, his voice laced with fury. ''Adjust to being fucking invalid?'' He gestured to his unmoving legs beneath the blanket.

''Now leave. I don't need your damn pity.''

Taglist: @r0nnsblog

[doctorgirlsblog]

lily - but daddy i love him

summary: max verstappen and yn wolff welcome their first baby into the world. READ BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM HERE. wc:1.6k

folkie radio: GUYS I JUST COULDN'T HELP MYSELF OKAY !!! i love the bdilh babies so much and i missed writing about them and this was just the perfect opportunity. i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The hospital room is quiet now, the chaos of delivery replaced by a peaceful calm. Early morning light filters through the windows of your private suite in Monaco, casting a gentle glow over the tiny bundle in your arms.

Lily Verstappen-Wolff, all of six hours old, has her father's eyes. They're that same impossible shade of blue, currently studying your face with what seems like intense concentration.

"She's got your nose though," Max whispers from where he's perched beside you on the bed, one arm around your shoulders, the other gently stroking Lily's impossibly small hand. "Thank god."

"Hey," you protest weakly, too exhausted and happy to really be offended. "Your nose is cute."

"Tell that to the aerodynamics team," he laughs softly, then goes quiet when Lily makes a tiny sound. "Sorry, princess. Didn't mean to be loud."

The way Max looks at her makes your heart feel too big for your chest. He's been crying on and off since she arrived, the four-time world champion, known for his fierce determination on track, completely undone by five pounds of baby girl.

A soft knock at the door interrupts your moment. Your father peers in, and you've never seen him look quite like this - his usual composed demeanor completely cracked open, eyes shining with tears.

"Is it... can I..." he starts, unusually lost for words.

"Come meet your granddaughter, Papa."

Toto approaches slowly, as if Lily might startle. When he sees her face, he completely breaks down, tears flowing freely now.

"She's perfect," he whispers, touching her cheek with one finger. His hand is trembling slightly. "She's absolutely perfect."

"Want to hold her?" Max offers, already carefully lifting Lily.

You watch as your father - the intimidating Mercedes team principal who's made grown men cower - cradles your daughter like she's made of glass. He hasn't stopped crying, and it makes your own eyes well up.

"Hallo, kleine Prinzessin," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I'm your Opa." He gently rocks her, studying every feature of her tiny face. "You know, I've won many championships, seen many incredible moments in racing, but nothing... nothing compares to this moment right here."

He touches her tiny hand with one finger, and when she grabs it, a fresh wave of tears falls. "Such a strong grip already. Just like your mama - always holding on tight to what matters."

Max wraps his arm around your shoulders as you watch your father completely melt.

"I promise you, Lily," Toto continues softly, "that you will always have someone in your corner. Someone to protect you, to guide you..." he chuckles wetly, "to teach you all about racing politics and team strategy."

"Papa," you laugh. "She's six hours old."

"Never too early to learn about the importance of good strategy," he says, but his eyes never leave Lily's face. "Although maybe we'll start with simpler things. Like how to wrap your papa around your little finger - though I see you've already mastered that."

Max grins. "Like mother, like daughter."

Toto shifts Lily slightly, cradling her closer to his chest. "You know, meine Kleine, I thought I knew what love was. Thought I understood it completely. But seeing you..." his voice cracks, "seeing my little girl become a mother... holding you..." He has to pause, overwhelmed. "You're going to change everything, aren't you? Just like your mama did."

You reach out and squeeze his arm, your own tears falling freely now.

"Papa?" you ask softly after a moment. "Who else is out there?"

"Just Lewis," he manages, still gazing at Lily. "But we don't want to intrude..."

You exchange a look with Max, who grins and nods.

"Are you kidding?" you laugh. "Get him in here. He needs to meet his goddaughter."

"I'll get him," Max says, kissing your forehead before heading to the door.

Moments later, Lewis appears, looking uncharacteristically nervous. When he sees Lily in Toto's arms, his face does something complicated before crumpling entirely.

"Oh my god," he whispers, moving closer. "Oh my god, look at her."

"Want to hold her?" your father offers, though he looks reluctant to let go.

Lewis nods, unable to speak. When Toto places Lily in his arms, he lets out a shaky breath that turns into a sob.

"Hey baby girl," he manages through tears. "I'm your Uncle Lewis. I'm... I'm going to spoil you so much. And teach you everything about racing. And protect you forever."

"Lewis," you say softly, touched by how emotional he is.

"I can't help it," he sniffles, swaying gently with Lily. "Look at her. She's... she's perfect. She's got your smile already, Little Wolff. And Max's eyes..."

He looks up at Max, who's watching from beside your bed. "You did good, man. Really good."

Max wipes at his own eyes. "We did, didn't we?"

"The best," Lewis agrees, looking back down at Lily. "God, I'm never going to stop crying, am I?"

"Join the club," your father says, still wiping his eyes.

"You know what this means though?" Lewis says suddenly, a mischievous glint appearing through his tears. "As godfather, I get to buy her her first race suit."

"Ferrari colors, I assume?" Max raises an eyebrow.

"Obviously."

"Over my dead body, Hamilton."

"Boys," you warn, but you're smiling. Some things never change.

"We'll let her choose," Lewis decides diplomatically, then adds in a whisper to Lily, "But red would look really good on you, princess."

You watch them - these three strong, competitive men, all completely undone by your tiny daughter. Your father has his hand on Lewis' shoulder, both of them looking at Lily like she's the most precious thing they've ever seen. Max sits beside you again, pulling you close as you all watch Lewis whisper promises to your daughter.

"Welcome to the family, little one," Lewis says softly. "You've got quite the crew looking out for you."

Lily makes a tiny sound and grabs Lewis' finger, making him burst into fresh tears.

"Oh, she's got a good grip," he laughs through his tears. "Future world champion material right there."

"First female world champion," Max says proudly. "Right, princess?"

After several more minutes of Lewis making promises to Lily about racing lessons and future championships, your father gently reminds him that you need rest.

"Just one more minute," Lewis pleads, still cradling Lily like she might disappear.

"Lewis," your father says fondly, "they'll still be here tomorrow."

"And the next day, and the next," you add with a smile. "She's not going anywhere."

Finally, reluctantly, Lewis places Lily back in your arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Love you already, little champ."

Your father hugs you carefully, mindful of Lily, then surprises everyone by pulling Max into a tight embrace. "You did good, son," he says softly, and you see Max's eyes well up again.

After they leave, the room falls into a peaceful quiet. Max settles beside you on the bed, his arm around your shoulders, both of you gazing down at your daughter.

"Hi baby girl," he whispers, gently stroking her cheek. "It's just us now."

Lily's tiny hand escapes her blanket, reaching up to grab Max's finger. His breath catches.

"Still can't believe she's real," he murmurs. "That we made her. That she's actually here."

You adjust the soft yellow hat on her head. "Remember when we had to hide from everyone?"

"Couldn't even hold your hand in public," Max laughs softly. "And now we have her."

"And now we have her."

Lily makes a tiny sound, drawing both your attention immediately. Her eyes - so impossibly blue - seem to focus on Max's face.

"Hey princess," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I know I probably look scary right now, crying all over the place. But I promise I'm usually more put together than this. Usually. Unless I'm around your mama. She tends to make me emotional too."

"Softie," you tease gently.

"Only for my girls," he admits without hesitation.

You watch as he carefully takes Lily from you, cradling her against his chest with a natural ease that makes your heart ache. The contrast of his strong hands - hands that have controlled the most powerful cars in the world - being so impossibly gentle with her tiny body is almost too much.

"I had this whole speech prepared," he says suddenly. "All these things I was going to tell her when she arrived. About racing, about life, about how much we wanted her. But now..." he looks down at Lily, who's watching him with what seems like intense concentration, "now I just want to tell her that I love her. That I've loved her since the moment we knew about her. That I'll love her forever."

"I think that's all she needs to know," you say softly, leaning against him.

"You know what's crazy?" Max adjusts Lily's blanket with careful precision. "All those championships, all those wins... nothing compares to this. To her. To us."

You watch them together - your fierce, passionate husband gone completely soft for this tiny person who's barely six hours old. The way he keeps checking her blanket, the gentle sway he's adopted without seeming to realize it, the look of pure wonder on his face every time she moves.

"I love you," you say suddenly, overwhelmed by everything. "Both of you. So much."

Max tears his gaze away from Lily to look at you, and the emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. "We love you too," he whispers. "Right, princess? We love Mama so much."

Lily snuggles closer to his chest in response, her tiny hand still gripping his finger.

Outside, the world keeps turning. Soon there will be visitors and photos and congratulations. Soon you'll have to share her with the rest of your extended F1 family. Soon there will be decisions about races and schedules and how to balance everything.

But right now, in this quiet room with the morning sun painting everything gold, there's just this: your little family, complete at last. Max humming softly in Dutch, Lily drifting off to sleep in his arms, and you, watching the two loves of your life together.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 4: Oh Simple Things

Max groaned as the first rays of sun sliced through the gap in curtain, landind straight on his face. He pulled the sheets over his head, inhaling deeply, a faint, lingering sweetness tickling his senses. It smelled so sweet and fruity, almost like-

His eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, clutching his throbbing temples as the full force of the hangover slammed into him. He frantically scanned the hotel room, but there was no sign of her. Had she left? Has is it only been some alchol-fueled dream?

No. He knew it hadn't been a dream. The raw memory of their desperate kiss, the feel of their bodies tangled together beneath these very sheets, the lingering ghost of her sweet, intoxicating, fucking perfume clinging to the air...it had been real. But she was gone. She had woken up, seen him, regretted everything and left.

He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand. Six missed calls and four frantic messages from Kelly illuminated the screen, all demanding to know where he was and why he hadn't come home last night. But there was nothing from Beatrice. Not that he had expected a heartfelt goodbye or anything, but the silence still carried a sharp, unexpected sting.

Then, a hollow, self-deprecating laugh escaped his lips, the sound bitter in the quiet room.

''Oh God,'' he muttered, the realisation hitting him with the force of a physical blow. ''She left me. Just like I left her back then.''

The irony was a cruel bitch indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beatrice let out a sigh as she finally flopped down on her bed, freshly showered, still in her fluffy robe, not even thinking of putting some clothes on. After all, she did plan on spending the rest of the day sleeping and trying to forget everything that happened. Her phone lay silent on the bedside table. A foolish part of her had expected a message from Max, thinking he would maybe reach out after they..no. She wouldn't dwell on that.

Yet, her fingers reached for the device. She should text Lando, apologise for her drunk behaviour last night, but before she could hit send, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The caller ID flashed ''C''. Beatrice answered, grateful for the distraction, even if it meant facing her best friend's inevitable questions about her dissappearing act.

''B! There you are! I was starting to think you'd eloped to Vegas,'' Chloe's voice chirped through the speaker, laced with sarcasm. ''You vanished from the club like a phantom. Everything alright?''

Beatrice hesitated, unsure how much of her messy night she was willing to share. ''Yeah, everything's fine..Just a bit of a headache.'' A weak, pathetic lie, she knew, but it was the best she could manage for now.

''A headache that required a swift exit from the hottest party in Monaco? Or perhaps a Dutch headache?''

Beatrice winced, closing her eyes briefly. ''Something like that,'' she mumbled, the words bitter on her tongue.

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then, Chloe's voice dropped to a whispered yell. ''Oh, I knew it! You two totally fucked, didn't you?''

Beatrice's eyes snapped open, a flush creeping up her neck. ''Chloe! You can't just say that!''

''So it is true,'' Chloe exclaimed, a triumphant note in her voice. ''I want details, and I want them soon, you little minx. Sadly, someone has to handle your job first. Love ya, stay good.''

Beatrice didn't even manage to open her mouth, because line went dead, leaving her staring at the silent phone. So, Chloe knew. Great.

She made herself a strong cup of Earl Grey, the familiar scent calming her raging thoughts. Clutching the warm mug, she sank onto her sofa, finally allowing herself to fully acknowledge the weight of what had happened.

It wasn't just a drunken mistake. It was a collision with a past she had tried so hard to outrun. Max was a significant part of her history, someone who still held a strange, undeniable pull. And last night, she'd allowed that pull to take over, consequences be damned.

The thought of facing him again sent a fresh wave of anxiety through her. What will he do? Would he act as if nothing had happened? Would he be filled with regret?

Her phone buzzed again and her heart skipped a beat.

''Could we please talk? M.''

Her thumb hovered over the reply button, options flying through her mind. A curt ''No'', a delaying ''Maybe later'' or an honest ''Okay''.

She closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. Avoiding it won't make it dissappear. They moved in the same circles, their lives were intertwined whether she liked it or not.

''Okay. When and where?'' She kept it brief, neutral, wanting to gauge his tone and intentions before doing anything further.

The reply came almost instantly.

''Whenever is good for you. Coffee somewhere quiet?''

Coffee. Neutral ground. Public. That felt..safe. Or as safe as a conversation with Max could ever be again.

''Tomorrow morning?'' she typed back, wanting a little more time to mentally prepare herself for the minefield.

''Perfect. I'll text you a place.'' he replied almost immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beatrice sat stiffly in the small cafe, the large sunglasses a fliemsy shield against the curious glances she imagined were being cast her way. She watched as Max entered, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on her. He crossed to her table, a hesitant nod his only greeting.

''Beatrice.'' His voice was low.

She nodded back, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat. ''Max.''

The silence that streched between them was thick. Beatrice had no idea how to begin.

''You left,'' he stated finally, his voice filled with betrayal and a hint of lingering pain.

''I did,'' she replied, her tone cool, defensive. ''So did you, years ago.''

Max knew the jab was coming. He sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. ''Take them off, Bea. No one will recognise you in here.''

She laughed. ''It's not me who has something to lose, Max. You're the one with the family. I have no one. Nothing, except my name.'' The bitterness in her voice was no longer restrained.

''Bea, you don't understand,'' he said, leaning forward, his voice gaining intensity. ''You keep yelling at me, and hating on me, and then you kiss me, and you leave. You have no idea what you're doing to me after all this time just because you don't know the fucking truth.'' His frustration was evident, raw and unfiltered.

Beatrice finally removed her sunglasses, her gaze locking onto his, a challenge in her eyes. ''What is the truth then, Max? Hm?'' The question hung in the air, a demand for the explanation that had been years in the making.

He took a shaky breath, as if the words he was about to utter had been trapped within him for years, clawing to get out.

''The truth, Beatrice,'' he began, his voice low, ''about why I left you back then..it wasn't because I didn't care. It was because my dad..he made it clear that you weren't..suitable.''

Beatrice stared at him in disbelief. ''Suitable? What does that even mean, Max?''

''It meant you weren't from the right background,'' he explained, his jaw clenching. ''You weren't part of that world. He saw you as a distraction, someone who would jeopardise my racing career, my future. He..he threatened to cut me off, to pull all his support. I was young, Bea, and terrified of losing everything that I barely started to get.''

Tears welled in Beatrice's eyes, the old hurt resurfacing, even sharper now.

''So you just..decided to sacrifice me? To lose me?''

Max's expression was filled with self-loathing. ''I was a coward, Beatrice. A selfish coward. I should have stood up to him. But I didn't. And I've regretted it every single day since.''

She scoffed. ''Sure you did. With your sweet little girlfriend.''

He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table, trying to supress the urge to take hold of hers. ''She was..who he wanted for me. Someone who fit the mold. But she was never you.'' he hesitated, a shadow crossing his face. ''And then..Lilly. It wasn't planned. But..she's my daughter and I love her with all my heart. I have responsibilities. You have to understand, Bea. Seeing you again, last night..it's like a ghost from a life I should have had. A life I threw away because I was too weak to fight for it.''

She finally broke the heavy silence, her voice low and trembling with a pain that ran deeper than anger. ''You talk about your dad dictating your life, Max,'' she began, her gaxe fixed on a point just beyond his shoulder. ''You talk about the regret of letting me go.''

Max looked at her, a flicker of hope in his eyes. ''Yes, Beatrice. I do. More than words can say.''

Beatrice finally met his gaze, and the sadness in her eyes came to the surface. ''But do you remember that night, Max? The last night we were together, before you..left?''

Max's brows furrowed. ''Of course. How could I forget?''

A small, chocked sob escaped her lips. ''Do you remember what you promised me that night? And then you left, without a word. You took everything with you, Max. You broke my heart, and took it too. I've yearned for the ghost of a boy who made those promises to me. But that boy is gone, Max. And so is the girl who believed him.''

She stood up, her movements stiff and resolute. ''You're living the life you chose, Max, however unhappy it might make you. And I deserve a life where promises are kept, where love is a choice, not a burden.''

She picked up her sunglasses, her hand steady despite the tears silently streaming down her face. ''Consider last night the absolute end, Max. You broke my heart once with your actions. I won't let you do it again.''

Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving Max sitting alone, heartbreak hanging heavy in the Monaco air.

He needed to move, to feel something, to run away from the ache in his chest. Grabbing his car keys, he stormed out of the cafe, jumping into his car, the engine roaring to life beneath his touch. He drove aimlessly along the winding coastal roads, the familiar scenery of Monaco blurring past his vision. His thoughts were a chaotic storm of Beatrice's tear-streaked face, her accusations and pain. Words kept repeating themselves in his head.

As he rounded a sharp bend overlooking the glittering sea, the sky suddenly opened up. The rain poured down, lashing against his windshield, redcuing visibility to near zero.

His phone buzzed, a call from Kelly. He asnwered it, argument escalating instanly because he never came home since last that night.

''I said drop it, Kelly!'' Max yelled into the phone, his voice raw, before he ended the call. He searched his phone for Bea's number, wanting to call her, to try and ease some of the pain but then, it happened.

Sickening crunch of metal was the only thing he heard, before everything turned dark. A thin trickle of blood snaked from a gash on his forehead, mingling with the rainwater seeping into the wreckage. He was slumbed against the seatbelt, his body limb and unresponsive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beatrice sat back home in her apartment, mindlessly scrolling through her phone when she saw it. A local Monaco news flashed a new alert:

''Serious Car Accident on Coastal Road - Formula 1 Champion Max Verstappen Involved''

Her breath hitched, her fingers hovering above the screen. A cold dread, sharp and sudden, pierced through the numbness she had been clinging to. The details weren't yet known, but the name was enough to send a jolt of icy fear through her veins. Max. An accident. One bad enough to end in the news instantly. Without a second thought, she stood up, her hands trembling as she grabbed her car keys. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing in the sudden silence she left behind. Hospital felt years away, as her mind raced, her heart pounding franticaly against her ribs. She had to know. She had to see him.

Sometimes past can't just stay in the past.

Taglist: @r0nnsblog

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 3: If You're Under Him..

''What do you say to your girlfriend and mother of your newborn child when she asks why are you not in a mood? Oh sorry, just thinking about how I slept with my ex ten years ago and made her think it meant nothing when it meant the world?''

Max groaned under the shower head, the scalding water a futile attempt to cleanse the guilt that clung to him like a second skin. He leaned his forehead against the cold, slick tiles, the chill a temporary distraction from the burning shame that Beatrice awakened.

He was home, the familiar scent of baby powder and Kelly's lavender shampoo indulged his senses when he inhaled a sharp breath, turning the shower off.

Just a few streets away, was a building where his first ever apartment had been. Two small, but cozy rooms, simply decorated. His early karting trophies lined on the shelves, and nestled betweeen them, small trinkets: a small, blue and orange plushy heart she'd given him after his first junior win: a chipped mug that read ''Love you, future World Champ''; and one framed photo of a smiling young girl looking up at him with an adoration, like he was the Sun itself. He winced, the phantom grip of his father's hand on his shoulder years ago, as he hissed in his ear.

''Get rid of that poor girl, Max. She is a distraction. One that doesn't belong in your world anymore.''

So he had. Chasing his father's love and approval for once in his young life, he lost something way more precious.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Adrenaline left her body as she rode the elevator to her penthouse. As the doors slid open, she saw Chloe sitting on her sofa, tablet in hand, obviously waiting for her.

''B? Everything alright?'' It was all it took for the carefully held-back tears to start falling, hot and heavy, tracing paths down her face. A pained sob escaped her throat, raw and ragged, and she lunged forwards, collapsing onto the sofa and hugging Chloe like her life depended on it.

Chloe, initially taken aback by the sudden outburst, wrapped her arms around her best friend. Confusion flickered across her features, but years of shared history between them, knew that this had something to do with the only person who could bring these emotions out in her. Max.

She pulled Beatrice closer, stroking her hair soothingly.

''It will be okay, B,'' Chloe murmured softly, her voice calm. ''Just let it out, love.''

The tears continued to flow as she kept sobbing, fragments of words escaping her lips. ''He..he..knows.''

Chloe's brows furrowed. She tightened her embrace, waiting for Beatrice to gather herself enough to explain.

''I...I thought I could do it Chloe...'' Beatrice finally gasped, pulling back slightly to look at her friend, her eyes red and swollen. ''But I can't..it hurts..''

Chloe took hold of her hands, looking deep into her eyes as she spoke carefully.

''B, do you think, that you might still love him?''

Beatrice took a shuddering breath, her chest heaving. ''The..the anger..it felt so..consuming. For so long, it was the only thing that kept me going. The thought of making him..understand..of making him pay..it was my fuel.'' She squeezed Chloe's hand tightly. ''But then...when I saw him..when I finally said those things..it just..all I felt was my heart breaking again.''

More tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She pressed a hand to her chest, right over her heart. ''It's like..reopening a wound I thought had finally scarred over. And it hurts, Chloe. It hurts more than I thought it could again.''

She looked at her, all her emotions finally laid bare. ''I thought I was strong enough to do this. I thought I could face him and not feel anything. But I did. I felt it all again. The hurt..the..the humilation..and..and a part of me...a stupid, stupid part of me..still remembers..how it felt before, when he still...'' Her voice trailed off, the unspoken forbidden word hanging heavy in the air between them. Suddenly, she pulled back, wipping her tears away as she let out a shaky breath. ''Forget it. He has family. A baby. He didn't care back then, he doesn't care now.''

Before Chloe had a chance to open her mouth, the other girl stood up, taking a bottle of Whiskey from the side table and left up the stairs to her room.

Chloe sighed, pulling out her phone, her fingers hovering over Max's contact. It felt surreal to be reaching out to the man who had caused her best friend so much heartache, but Chloe knew Beatrice needed closure, help, even if she wasn't ready to admit it. She knew that if she let's her distance herself now, it will be late for redemption later. Poor soul had already suffered enough.

''Mr. Verstappen, this is Chloe, Beatrice's assistant. We need to meet. Privately. It's important.''

She pressed send and waited, sighing as she took a sip from her now cold coffee.

Her phone buzzed surprisingly fast. ''Chloe? What is this about?''

Chloe typed back quickly. ''It concerns Beatrice. I believe it would be best if we discussed it in person. I will text you the details when we land back in Monaco.''

''Okay.'' Was all she got in return.

She knew Beatrice wouldn't approve of this. But for her best friend's own sake, she had to do it.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The cafe Chloe chose was tucked away on a quiet side street in Monaco, a place mostly reserved for locals. The morning sun streamed through the large windows, accompanying the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Chloe was already seated at a small corner table, sipping a black coffee, when Max arrived, looking more tired than ever.

He nodded a curt greeting as he sat down, his eyes flicking around the cafe before settling on Chloe. ''So,'' he began, his voice low, ''What exactly is so important that couldn't be said over the phone?''

Chloe met his gaze steadily. ''It's about Bea, Max. About what happened between you two. I've known B for a long time now. She's strong, resilient..but what happened with you years ago left a deep scar. And now, it's about to happen again. I refuse to let it.''

Max leaned back in his chair, a flicker of something akin to pain crossing his features. ''She told you?''

Chloe nodded. ''Not in detail, not for a long time. It was clearly something she buried. But the raw emotion I saw from her..it was unlike anything I've witnessed. And last night..she broke down. She's hurting, Max. More than you probably realise.''

Max ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping down to the table. ''I..I was young. Stupid. My dad..he wasn't exactly supportive of..distractions.'' He finally looked up, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. ''That doesn't excuse what I did. I know that. But at the time..I thought I was doing what was expected of me. I didn't know any better. She was..special. Even then. But I was too focused on my career, on trying to please my father.'' The words felt clumsy, like he was that teenage boy again. Chloe listened intently, her expression softening lightly. She could sense the genuine remorse beneath his words. ''She loved you, Max. Deeply. And the way it ended...it shaped her. It made her guarded, tough. That ice persona she projects? It's a shield.''

Max nodded slowly, absorbing her words. ''She still carries a part of that love, Max. That's why it hurts so much. The anger is a mask for the deeper wound. And yet, here you are, happy with a family you built for yourself, with Kelly, with your baby. You think it doesn't hurts her, seeing how easily you moved on when she's still stuck where she was ten years ago?''

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Later that night, ''Velvet Rose VIP''

Max was swirling his G&T in one hand, sat alone in a secluded booth, music beat drowning his loud thoughts. He kept replaying Chloe's words, Beatrice's tears, the raw pain in her voice..

Across the crowded dance floor, among the moving sweaty bodies, was she. Several vodka shots had dulled the sharp edges of her pain, replacing it with numbness and a dangerous impulsiveness. Lando, ever the affable and flirtatious, had approched her earlier, offering a dance. Now, fueled by alcohol and a desperate need to feel something other than the pain, Beatrice was grinding against him with a provocative intensity that slowly started to draw attention.

Max's eyes, bleary from the alcohol, caught sight of the familiar blond hair. A jolt of possessiveness shot through him. He kept watching, his jaw tightening, as she laughed, her head thrown back, Lando's arm wrapped around her waist.

Another shot burned down his throat, further clouding his judgement. He was drunk, emotionally raw, and seeing Beatrice with Lando ignited a spark of irrational anger. He stumbled out of his booth, pushing his way through the sweaty bodies, his eyes fixed on her back.

By the time he reached them, his words were slurred, his tone accusatory.

''Beatrice? What the hell do you think you're doing?''

Beatrice, still laughing, turned, her eyes unfocused for a moment before recognition flickered. A deviant smirk played on her lips. ''Having fun, Max. Something you clearly forgot how to do.''

Lando, sensing the tension pulled himself away, stepping back and dissapearing in the mass. Max grabbed her arm, pulling her to the booth where he previously sat alone and showed her down onto the plush velvet cushions beside him.

''Why Lando?'' he asked, his voice coming out bitter.

She laughed, a harsh sound that held no amusement.

''Why Lando? Because I wanted to remind myself how it feels to fuck and flee. Why Kelly, Max? Hm?'' Her words were a direct hit.

He didn't know what to answer, the alcohol leaving him speechless. They were both drunk off their asses, and he had a feeling that whatever he said or did next, he will regret it first thing in the morning. But when he saw her begin to rise up again, adjusting the strap of her dress, a determined glint in her eyes as she muttered something about finding Lando, he forgot the morning regret. He reached out, his hand snaking around her waist, pulling her back against him and kissing her fiercely. Her breath hitched and she moaned into his mouth, and he swore he could finish right then and there just from that damn moan.

Her fingers tightened into fists around the pristine white fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, which he gladly welcomed. He slid his lips down the curve of her throat, inhaling deeply, the sweet, somewhat familiar perfume that reminded him of sun-ripened strawberries. God, she had now ruined fucking strawberries for him; the innocent sweetness forever tainted with the memory of this. Of her. His hands roamed lower, settling on the small of her back, pressing his hips against hers, making them both moan at the contact.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The first hint of dawn painted the Monaco sky a pale grey. Beatrice stirred from her sleep, feeling a warmth of body beside her, and her stomach dropped. The faint scent of his perfume clang to the ruined sheets. The events of the previous night crashed down on her in a rush: angry words, Lando, Max kissing her, and then..this.

She turned her head slowly, the movement stiff and uncomfortable. Max lay beside her, deeply asleep, his face relaxed in slumber. Seeing him now, so vulnerable and unguarded, only amplified her sense of shame.

What had she done? Sleeping with him again, after everything, felt like a betrayal of herself, a step backwards. A wave of self-disgust washed over her. Quietly, carefully, she slipped out of the bed, her movements stiff and deliberate. She gathered her discarded clothes, dressing quickly and silently, when her gaze fell upon his lit up phone. A picture of Max and Kelly, holding little baby starred back at her. Above, she saw, two new messages from Kelly. She took her purse and left, not turning back once more.

[doctorgirlsblog]

Hot. Tired of everything, but hot.

CHARLES LECLERC | Post-race interview Miami GP 2025

[doctorgirlsblog]

Race was shit and i stayed up extra for it, even tho i have to get up in 4 hrs. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Only good thing today: Osc 🫶🏻

[doctorgirlsblog]

Ghost From The Past (MV x OC!)

Chapter 2: Lie To Me Again

Max was fidgeting with his phone, contemplating whether to send the damn text or not. Liam, his first trainer, had been their mutual friend back then, someone who knew Bea like the back of his hand. If anyone knew why she was back now, it would be him. He hit send before he groaned and slumped back against the crisp white sheets of his hotel bed.

Liam's reply pinged through almost instantly. The message was brief, almost a warning. ''Heard she's back. That's not the same little girl you left, mate. If I were you, I'd be careful.''

It just confirmed Max's gut feeling. Something was terribly wrong here.

On the other side of the city, high above glittering lights of Miami's night life, Chloe and Beatrice sipped champagne in her sleek penthouse.

Chloe finally broke the comfortable silence.

''When are you gonna corner him then, B?''

Beatrice swirled the golden liquid in her glass, her gaze fixed on the idstant lights, a slow smile spreading across her face.

''Let him win tomorrow first. Then,'' her smile sharpened, losing its earlier softness, ''we'll move to the celebrations.''

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Max crossed the finish line, cheers erupting from the RedBull pit wall. Christian and Beatrice exchanged their congratulations, both smiling brightly as they went over to the stands to wait for him. Christian pulled him into a hug, clapping him on the back. Max kept grinning, still not noticing the girl standing to his right side. He felt gentle touch on his forearm, and he turned, his eyes locking with her piercing gaze. ''Max,'' she said, and he swore he felt his heart drop after hearing his name from her lips after so much time, ''congratulations. A fantastic drive.''

Just as he opened his mouth to thank her, she leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, stil not letting of his forearm. Max froze. But just as she leaned in, she was already pulling back, her calm, professional gaze in place. Cameras kept clicking around them, and she knew they got enough material to spark some questions that are going to land all the way back home, to his precious Kelly.

''Enjoy the celebrations, Max. You deserve it.''

She turned away and disappeared in the crowd, finding Chloe who kept smirking at her. Beatrice smirked back.

Max stood frozen for a moment, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, a faint press of her lips on his cheek still warm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The buzz of his phone echoed through the quiet driver's room. He glanced at the screen and a genuine smile finally broke through. It was Kelly, video-calling him. He answered right away, his face softening further at the sight of her holding their baby girl.

''How are my sweet girls?'' he said, his voice warm.

Kelly smiled. ''She's good, just woke up from her nap.''

Max smiled. ''Hope she's not making you much trouble.''

''She isn't.'' Kelly confirmed, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. There was a beat of silence, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that Max couldn't place. Then, she spoke again. ''So..I saw the celebrations.''

Max nodded. ''Yeah, it was amazing. The team was so happy.''

Kelly nodded slowly, her gaze steady. ''And your new sponsor seems very..enthusiastic. She kissed you.''

Max gulped. ''She just congratulated me. She also kissed Christian, haha,'' He tried to sound casual, but he felt himself slipping.

''Right,'' Kelly said slowly, her expression still unreadable. ''And you never met her before this weekend?''

''No!'' Max squeeked, little too fast. ''I just met her yesterday.''

Oh, how easy he slipped into the lies.

The phone call ended, leaving Max with a cold dread in his stomach. He knew he hadn't convinced her. He didn't even convince himself. The lie about only meeting Beatrice yesterday felt flimsy even to his own ears. He paced his driver's room, pulling on his hair. He had to know what Beatrice was playing at. First acting like she doesn't know him, then that kiss - it all felt staged. He pulled out his phone again, texting Liam again, asking for her number.

A wave of hesitation washed over him. What would he even say?

Taking a deep breath, he typed out a message.

''Beatrice, it's Max. Could we maybe talk?''

He stared at the message for a long minute before hitting send. Now all he could do was wait. But the answer never came. Not even the day after, when Christian called him into his office, where the said devil sat, in tight pencil skirt, her legs crossed. She didn't even spare him a glance as he sat beside her.

''Everything okay, Christian? You said it was urgent'?''

Christian cleared his throat, then looked over at her, then back at Max.

''Yes. Well, Max I would never interfere with your personal or love life, and what you choose to do in your free time is your thing, but Beatrice here came to me, expressing her..worries..about you trying to ask her out. Miss Pierce was pretty clear that her relation to RedBull Racing is to remain strictly professional and I'm asking you in her name, to strain away from texting and calling at late night.''

She nodded only, as Max watched in disbelief. ''W..What?!'' He felt played. ''Christian, you know me, I..she is a liar. She is playing with you. She knows me, she was-''

''That would be enough, Max. You may go now.'' Christian interuppted him, his hard gaze fixed on him.

He looked at her in disbelief, shaking his head as he stood up. Door slammed shut behind him and she winced, faking a shutter.

''My apologies again, Beatrice. I don't know what came into him.''

She smiled sweetly. ''All good Christian. Thank you again. So much.'' she stood up, kissing him on the cheek before she left too. As the door clicked shut behind her, the sweet smile dropped form her face, replaced by a look of cold satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liar! The word screamed on repeat in Max's head. He shook his head in disbelief, rage burning in his chest. He slammed his fist against the nearest wall, the dull thud echoing his despair. He was being fucking played, like a puppet on the strings.

He was halfway down the empty corridor, his mind still reeling, when he heard the distinct, sharp click of heels approaching from behind. Instinct took over, fueled by a rage that slowly bordered on desperation. Without a second thought, he spun around, his eyes blazing. As Beatrice rounded the corner, a small smirk playing on her lips, Max moved with surprising speed. He reached out, his hand gripping her arm, fingers tightening just enough to leave a bruise, and pulled her into the nearest open doorway which happened to be a small, empty storage room. The suddenness of his action and the unexpected hold wiped the smugness from her face, replaced by a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by a cool, almost amused composure. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes assessing him like a predator sizing up its prey.

The door swung shut behind them with a heavy thud, plunging the small space into dimness, illuminated only by a sliver of light from the little window. Max didn't release her arm, his grip tightening, a silent challenge in his eyes as he stared down at her, his chest heaving.

''What the hell do you think you're doing, Beatrice?!'' His voice was low and dangerous, each word laced with a barely supressed violence. ''Lying to Christian? Turning him against me? What is your game? And don't even start with that professional bullshit again.''

Beatrice finally met his gaze, her own unwavering, a playful smirk curling her lips. ''Let go of my arm, Max.'' she said, her voice soft. ''You're starting to crease my jacket. And really, is this the way to treat a valued sponsor?''

Max's grip tightened even more. ''You're not just a sponsor, and you know it. That kiss for media, the way you looked at me..it wasn't about business. What do you want, Beatrice? What are you trying to prove after all this time?''

A flicker of something painful danced in her eyes before quickly disappearing again. She leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. ''Perhaps I just wanted to remind you what you lost, Max. To remind you of what you threw away.'' Her gaze flickered down to his lips, then back up to his eyes, a blatant invitation hanging in the air. ''Or perhaps,'' she added, her voice laced with teasing malice, ''I simply enjoy watching you squirm for once.''

She finally pulled her arm free. ''Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Verstappen, I have business to attend to. And you,'' she added, her eyes gleaming, ''have a reputation to repair.''

But before she could reach the door, Max's control finally snapped. He lunged forward, his hand shooting out and catching her shoulder, spinning her around with a force that made her gasp. The self-satisfied smirk vanished as her back slammed against the cold metal of the door with a jarring thud.

The breath left her lungs in a sharp exhale. For the first time since he had pulled her into the room, Beatrice looked genuinely taken aback, her cold composure momentarily fractured. Her eyes widened slightly as she starred up at him, her perfectly styled hair slightly disheveled.

Max was mere inches away, his chest heaving, his eyes burning into hers. His hands were braced on either side of her head against the door, trapping her.

''Don't you dare walk away from me,'' he growled , his voice low and guttural, vibrating with fury. ''You think you can just waltz back into my life after all these years and play these twisted games? You think you can lie to my boss, try to sabotage my career, and then just..leave?''

Beatrice's initial shock quickly morphed back into a defiant glare. She tilted her chin up, meeting his furious gaze. ''I should have walked away from you all those years ago! Funny you're the one talking about leaving, when you used me and left me there like some fucking cheap whore!''

Max's eyes softened instantly. ''Bea..''

''Don't you fucking dare! I gave you everything! I was sixteen, for fuck's sake! You. Took. Everything. From. Me.'' she pushed him away, her hands on his chest.

''You used me, you got what you wanted, and then you left for this. Your damn career. And for years I though, maybe it was my fault. But then I saw you got with her. Older. Wiser. Mature. I was just a girl and she was a woman right? Right?!''

She was screaming now, and Max winced, trying to come with a response. ''Oh now you don't have anything to say to me? You had plenty to say back then!'' And then a slap. It echoed through the small space, his head snapping to the side from the impact. He flinched. ''You think your career is being sabotaged? Try living with the memory of being made to feel like you were nothing. Like you didn't matter at all.''

''I'm...I'm sorry.'' he mumbled, the apology feeling hollow and insufficient even to his own ears.

''Sorry?'' she repeated, the word laced with disbelief. ''Sorry for what, Max? For crushing my heart? For disposing me? For making me cold?''

He finally looked up and at her, really looked at her,and for the first time this week, he didn't see the powerful and cold CEO, a stranger, but the young girl he once knew, her eyes full of dreams he had carelessly shattered.

''I'd watch out, if I were you, Max. You took everything from me. It's only fair I do the same.''