My Formula 1 System-Chapter 383: A Stranger’s Smile In The Rain

Before Qualifiers Day, the UK was gradually filled by the influx of tourists, motorsport fans, core F1 followers, and the visiting teams. The hype building up to the weekend felt just right for an iconic racing event such as the F1 British Grand Prix.

For four days in a row now, it had been raining. The first two days were heavy storms with winds strong enough to shake the trees in Hyde Park, the kind of downpour that blurred streetlights and drenched anyone caught without cover. That was classic London weather; all moody and dramatic.

The next two days reduced to steady drizzles that stuck to the air like a curtain, still wet, still cold, but quite gentle enough to make you keep walking with your umbrella half-open. Also very London.

The wet situation had everyone wondering if the weekend races would be wet races. If they were, it would be an absolute spectacle to watch, but a nightmare for drivers and pit crews to deal with.

On one of those heavily rainy days, Luca drove Isabella to her Grid Edge Innovative group. After seeing her off, he returned to the car and started driving back home to relax. With so much rain, the day's drills at headquarters had been toned down to just classroom lessons, simulations, and gyming—nothing too demanding.

So Luca retired home early. But it turned out Isabella had already come there, likely because she had a habit of enjoying the house alone whenever Luca was away. Before he could even settle down to rest, she asked if he could drive her to the Custard Factory.

A bit worn out from the long simulations, Luca only nodded and agreed without a word.

After dropping her off, he promised to return by late 4 p.m. to pick her up again to take her home—whether she wanted to head back to her father's house or spend the night at his.

—[RADIO]—the upheaval in the Belgian Grand Prix is only a foretelling story. What will the British GP have for us? Marcellus Rodnick remains injured, but Jackson Racing have given us a due date for his return.

two weeks from now, Frank! The Apex Predator will be back on track!

at what cost? Many sports analysts like me would bet their careers that Marcellus won't return at a hundred percent. Your wrist is a vital part of navigating an F1 car.

he'll have to recover soon, because the title will slip further from his defense—even after the race on Sunday! Antonio Luigi and Luca Rennick are dragging 1st place with 101 points!—[RADIO]—

Luca wondered if there wasn't anything else for the world to discuss besides F1. He switched to the next station. The radio shrieked and crackled until a new frequency was found.

The brief moment the sound of the rain had while he navigated the stations, vanished and a new journalist spoke through.

—[RADIO]—Even till the ninth round, Iberia Grand Prix fights to stay in the top five with 93 points! Two points ahead of Outback Performance and completely out of sight for Nordvind Racing with just 38!

Unbelievable season for the Purples—Hank Rice has been a wonderful addition to them so far!

Exactly. The English veteran is basically carrying the entire team to a top-five finish in the championship. Out of their total 93 points, Hank Rice has contributed 86.

He deserves better teammates.

Yeah, he does.

No, he deserves a better team, better engineering, and...—[RADIO]—

The radio was switched off mid-sentence by Luca. He didn't even bother searching for another station anymore.

The rain was relentless. The heavy patter on the windshield was so loud, it drowned out the usual low hum of his car's engine. For a moment, Luca considered embracing the quiet—if it could even be called that—but he wanted something to fill the space on the drive back home.

He tapped the dash screen and selected Bluetooth. His phone connected almost instantly, and the opening beat of the first song in his usual playlist began to rise and fill the atmosphere.

Just thirty seconds into the music track, as he drove along Floodgate Street—just about four blocks away from the Custard Factory—Luca caught a familiar face among the pedestrians hurrying along the pavement beneath their umbrellas.

It was a woman. And had she not paused to unfurl her umbrella and step into what looked like a small supply shop, he might've missed her entirely.

The woman was Ms. Vallotton. Luca could never forget that sharp, compassionless expression of hers. With the British Grand Prix week in full swing, her presence in London wasn't surprising. What caught him off guard was simply seeing her walking down Floodgate Street on foot and not in a car.

Luca guessed she wouldn't be out for a few minutes, so he quickly found a tight parking spot just across the street and pulled in. Grabbing his umbrella from the passenger seat, he stepped out into the rain and headed toward the shop. He wasn't even sure what exactly had piqued his curiosity—was it Ms. Vallotton herself, or just anything related to Trampos? He hadn't really interacted with anyone from the team except Mr. Lemaître. And Lemaître wasn't part of the core crew, which meant there were questions he had that Mr. Lemaître definitely couldn't answer.

With his face mask firmly in place, Luca pushed the door open and entered. Ms. Vallotton was already at the counter, speaking with a middle-aged man who looked like the owner. She glanced over the moment the door chimed behind him.

Luca thought it might take her a few seconds to recognize him, but nope, she did instantly. Her eyes narrowed with instant familiarity, and she gave him that impressed, skeptical half-smile that adults tended to give younger people who surprised them. Then she said, "Luca?"

Luca removed his nose mask in defeat. The shop owner's eyes widened at the sight of Luca, and he rushed into the back of the shop to call his son.

Ms. Vallotton beat Luca five times on the back as he approached. "What have you been eating?! Aren't you past puberty?!" she hooted.

Luca laughed, and after they shared pleasantries, he explained to her that he saw her while driving along the road, so he followed her in. Afterwards, he asked what she was doing in downtown London and at a supply shop.

Ms. Vallotton explained that her personal driver was delayed, and she was here to pick up some portable SSDs.

When Luca asked why she didn't just take a cab, she brushed it off in a way that Luca decrypted as "I'm no fan of the UK." It made him remember Ansel, who once said he hated the accent.

Luca offered to pay for what she bought, but she refused. He let that one go, but insisted on driving her to her destination, as he explained there was no way she was walking in this heavy downpour. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Ms. Vallotton agreed, and they walked to the car after Luca spent a short while entertaining and taking pictures with the shop owner's son, who looked like he'd just met a superhero.

Ms. Vallotton said she was staying at the Orchard Crescent Hotel in Covington Green, a quiet district not too far from downtown but still tucked away enough to give guests some privacy. Luca knew the hotel very well, so he drove her in that direction without needing to check maps.

He felt unusually fulfilled. He was driving his former team principal, someone who had once managed him in his development season. Just imagine if it was Mr. Grant seated in his passenger seat instead. Luca could tell Ms. Vallotton was proud.

The first and only conversation that came up was, of course, about Trampos. Luca wanted to know a lot.