𝘽𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍, max verstappen

chapter twenty-three.

october, 2018.

camila's mouth burned of her salty tears. her skin bruised, her breaths ragged, her mind a blur.

but it was all her doing, she caused her father to lash out like this.

she was supposed to have won her second championship. that was the goal. her fathers goal. because that was what he had done all those years ago. and then after winning his second he won his third. it was all destined for his daughter too.

but camila had let him down, and as she sat curled up on the floor of her hotel room in texas, it was like a continual reminder. a reminder that she failed, but also, a reminder that she was alone, nobody was coming to help her.

hugo rivera trudged out of his daughters hotel room, his knuckles held a slight ache.

walking towards the elevator, he soon made eye contact with lewis hamilton. the championship winner. the person his daughter lost to.

he offered a fake smile in return to lewis' greeting. "well done again lewis" hugo praised, patting his back in support. he fought back the grimace making its way to his face at the sudden contact on the skin of someone like lewis.

he politely responded a quick thank-you; beaming as he reminisced on the events of today. lewis was headed to his room, across from camila's. he was going to get ready to go to an afterparty followed by another afterparty, until he couldn't party any longer — he didn't want the celebrations to end.

walking across the hall, lewis picked up the sudden noise of sniffling and hushed sobs — sobs from inside camila's room.

his heart ached, and before he could even think, he was turning the handle and stepping into camila's room.

it was a mess. bed lamp's shattered, bed-sheets and blankets thrown across the floor, suitcases with everything inside scattered across the room in a crazed frenzy, it was almost terrifying.

but what scared lewis the most was a fragile and shaken camila, sobbing into her knees as her legs were pressed into her chest, arms wrapped securely around them. she was more broken and destroyed than the room looked.

lewis had never seen camila cry before. ever.

camila rivera was the happiest girl alive. she loved life, she loved looking after people, she loved her job, her family, her friends. she was the perfect girl. she was a star.

but seeing her now, in the broken state she was, made lewis question how many smiles she had been faking.

"camila" lewis breathed out, trying the hide the panic and concern in his voice, he didn't want to scare her anymore.

camila lifted her head from her knees ever-so slightly, meeting lewis' warm, concerned ones. she was so upset she couldn't muster up that feeling of embarrassment, too broken by what her father had just done to her to do anything but cry.

and lewis just gave her exactly what he needed. and when camila had tried to explain why she was so upset, and why her hotel room was a mess, lewis just shushed her in understanding.

because he had seen the expression on hugo rivera's face as he exited camila's room, frantic eyes, flushed cheeks, it all began to make sense as to who had done this to her.