𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢┃ Charles Leclerc┃

Chapter Thirty Eight - The Ferrari Home Race

Sunday at Monza always felt electric, but this morning was something else. The air buzzed with a mix of excitement and tension, the unmistakable roar of engines and the sea of red-clad fans creating an atmosphere that was both daunting and exhilarating. Ferrari's home race was no ordinary event; it was a celebration, a festival, and a gladiatorial arena all rolled into one.

The day was planned like a military operation. There was a new step at every hour.

I woke up early, nerves and adrenaline already coursing through me. My team had arranged a light breakfast in the hospitality suite, but I barely touched it. My stomach was too knotted with anticipation. I tried to distract myself by chatting with Mel, who was her usual blunt but reassuring self.

"Just another race, Ana." She said, sipping her coffee. "You've got this. And make sure you eat, otherwise your sugars will be down."

I nodded, appreciating her confidence even if I wasn't entirely sure I shared it. "It's hard to think of it as just another race when you see all those Tifosi out there." I said, glancing out the window at the growing crowd. "They're here for Ferrari, for Charles, for Carlos. It's a lot of pressure."

My dad, who sat beside me, looked at me. His gaze was steady. "You've handled pressure before, poppet. Today is no different. Focus on your race, not the crowd."

I took a deep breath and nodded again. "You're right. Thanks, Dad."

He kissed the top of my head.

By 11 am, the paddock was a hive of activity. I suited up and headed to the garage, where my car was already prepped and waiting. The engineers were making final adjustments, and the smell of fuel and tire rubber filled the air. Charles was in his garage next to mine, and he gave me a quick thumbs-up as he passed by. I smiled back, feeling a bit more grounded by his presence.

"Ready for this?" He asked, leaning against the wall between our garages.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I replied. "You?"

He grinned. "Always. Let's make it a good one today. Good luck, mon amour." A brisk peck was placed on my cheek. "Je t'aime"

My cheeks felt hot. "Love you too."

At noon, we had the drivers' parade, an event that never failed to make my heart race. We were paraded around the track in classic cars, waving to the fans who cheered and waved flags. The sea of red was overwhelming, and the cheers were deafening. I spotted a few signs with my name on them, and it gave me a boost of confidence.

As the parade ended, I found myself back in the garage, going through the pre-race rituals. I did a quick check-in with my engineer, Jake, who ran through the strategy one last time.

"We're looking at a two-stop strategy, given the tire wear." He said, tapping on his tablet. "Mediums to start, then switch to hards."

"Got it." I replied, mentally running through the plan. "Let's make it work."

By 2 pm, I was in my car, the helmet snug around my head, the familiar hum of the engine vibrating through me. I could hear the muffled roar of the crowd outside, and I took a moment to close my eyes and center myself. This was it.

At 2:45 pm, we lined up on the grid. The sun was high, and the heat was intense, but the energy was palpable. I could see Charles a few rows ahead, his Ferrari glinting in the sunlight. I took a deep breath, the noise of the crowd and the rumble of the engines blending into a symphony of anticipation.

Jake's voice crackled through my earpiece. "All set, Ana?"

"All set." I replied, gripping the steering wheel. "Let's do this."