Complications | Formula 1 | On Hold

18

Leonelle Moreau

"No, Julien. My actual, biological daughter." I huffed as quiet as I could, my attention shifting between my Press Officer and my Personal Trainer.

"How?!" He shrieked. All I've said and he still doesn't understand anything.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to me. "I was raped, got pregnant then they told me she died and gave her up for adoption. Now, her adoptive parents brought her back to me because the mother is pregnant. What's so hard to understand about that?" Everything.

I let go of him and sat back. Charles unfortuneately had to leave and couldn't stay here with me even though I needed him by my side because I don't know what to do when Soléa wakes up and she seemed to have a liking towards him.

"Julien, go take a nap." Ana smacked the back of his head while I glared at him.

"No, I'm good. I understand now. So, we'll be babysitters?" He frowned at me.

I shrugged. "You're the only non-driver people who I can trust with her." I stated, looking at the both of them.

Ana smiled lightly at me before standing to my side and pulling me to her, hugging me. "Don't worry about Soléa, she's basically my granddaughter now. We'll look after her. Now, you get ready for the race." She leaned down and kissed my temple while I smiled up at her before she dragged Julien out and shut the door, then it slammed open again, revealing a very confused Max.

I pursed my lips, watching his eyes flickering between me and the sleeping Soléa on the couch next me. "Ana's granddaughter? What did I miss exactly?"

I shook my head. "Not much. This is Soléa, my daughter." I told him, there was no reason to keep it a secret and I already came up with a story for the media. I'll have to check it with Ana first, though.

"How?" He asked, sitting opposite me where Julien was. He was already dressed in his race suit, so I'll be the one left behind.

"Long story short, the doctors told me it was a stillbirth but she was put up for adoption and her adoptive parents found me and gave her to me. Now, out." I stood up, urging him to go.

"Wait, who's the father?" He asked, standing in the doorway.

"My rapist." I smiled lightly at him before shutting the door.

I huffed, taking off my jacket and rumaging through the dufflebag I brought yesterday with extra things.

I pulled the white sports bra out and turned away from Soléa before taking off the bandeau top and putting on the sports bra. I grabbed my Nomex pants, taking off the trousers and putting them on quickly. In a couple minutes, I had the top of my suit hung around my waist and was trying to put my hair in a sleek bun. Lucky me, I had extra bobby pins.

"Mamà?" I turned to Soléa that woke up slowly with a soft smile on my face.

She was rubbing her eyes while looking at me. "Où sommes-nous? [Where are we?]" She yawned, slumping down on the couch.

"Mon chambre de pilot, mon trésor. [My pilot's room, my treasure.]" I told her, putting my brush in my bag once I was done.

Her eyes lit up and she was suddenly awake at my words, jumping off the couch and running around the room, literally touching everything. "So cool!" She squealed while I laughed.

Realization downed on me a bit late as I just realized that she called me mamà.

Her adapting to this so quickly is so fascinating. And weird. I've never thought a child would forget about someone who raised them for their biological parent.