Authors Note: Trying something different in this chapter as a one off - let me know what you think!
Alexandra Heroux Released from Hospital, Jackson Morgan Faces Multiple Charges
Heroux Recovers as Police Uncover Shocking Details
In a significant development following the horrifying incident that shocked the Formula 1 community, Alexandra Heroux has been released from the hospital, accompanied by her supportive boyfriend, Charles Leclerc. This marks a turning point in Heroux's recovery from the traumatic events of the past week.
Sources close to the situation have revealed the extent of the injuries sustained by the popular F1 driver. Heroux suffered a severe concussion, two broken ribs, and several minor injuries during the attack that took place outside a London nightclub. Her release from the hospital has brought a glimmer of hope to her fans worldwide, who have been eagerly awaiting her recovery.
However, as Heroux takes steps toward physical healing, the legal proceedings surrounding her attacker, Jackson Morgan, continue to unfold. The police have now leveled multiple serious charges against Morgan, painting a disturbing picture of his alleged actions leading up to the attack.
Morgan, who was arrested after the incident, now faces charges of aggravated assault, attempted murder, sexual assault and kidnapping. Additionally, he is charged with stalking, blackmail, conspiracy, and defamation.
These revelations shed light on the troubling circumstances surrounding the attack on Alexandra Heroux. It appears that Morgan not only physically and sexually assaulted her but was also secretly blackmailing her, submitting personal information to a now-defunct gossip blog that targeted Heroux and her family. Authorities have taken swift action to dismantle the blog, removing the platform that had been used to disseminate defamatory and invasive information.
As Heroux embarks on her road to recovery, the F1 community and her countless supporters worldwide remain hopeful for her full and speedy recuperation. The shocking turn of events surrounding the attack and the subsequent charges against Jackson Morgan underscore the severity of the situation. The legal process will now take its course as the community rallies behind Heroux, demonstrating their unwavering support for one of their own during this trying time.
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I'm back in Monaco. It feels strange to be home after everything that's happened. I should feel relieved, safe, but the truth is, I still can't let it sink in that I'm out of that nightmare. It's as if my mind refuses to believe I'm safe now.
The therapist I've been seeing suggested I write down my thoughts and feelings, and that's why I've decided to start this journal. She thinks it might help me process the trauma, and I'm willing to try anything at this point.
I wish I could say that I feel strong and unbreakable, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I'm fragile, more fragile than I've ever been in my life. The scars, both physical and emotional, serve as constant reminders of that night. The fear, the helplessness, the pain—it all comes rushing back when I close my eyes.
I'm still struggling to sleep at night. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face, twisted with anger and hatred. I hear his voice, taunting me. It's like I'm trapped in that van all over again. I feel his hands...God, I can't even finish that sentence. The therapist said it's normal for survivors to have these flashbacks, but it doesn't make it any easier to bear.
If it wasn't for Charles, being by my side, holding me through the panic attacks and the flashbacks, I don't think I'd be able to cope anymore. Truly. It's too much. But with him...it's easier. I feel safe in his arms. I feel like I'm home.
And then there's the social media. Charles took my phone away before I could see any of it, and for that, I'm grateful. But as we drove through Monaco today, on the way back from the airport, I couldn't help but notice the newspaper stand covered with my picture.
What are they saying about me? Do they blame me for what happened? Are they dissecting every detail of that night, picking it apart for their own entertainment?
I know I shouldn't care about what strangers on the internet think, but it's hard not to. They don't know the whole story, the terror I went through, the scars I bear. It's easy for them to pass judgment from behind a screen, detached from the reality of it all.
I keep telling myself that their opinions don't matter, that I need to focus on healing and rebuilding my life. But it's easier said than done. The fear of being judged, of being labeled a victim, still lingers in the back of my mind.
I'm trying to find strength in the support of my loved ones. Charles has been my rock through all of this, and I don't know how I would have made it without him. My family and friends have rallied around me, assuring me that I'm not alone in this journey.
One day at a time, they say.
That's how I'm trying to take things.
With each day that passes, I hope I'll find a way to regain control over my life, to banish the darkness that haunts my thoughts.
For now, I guess I'll keep writing in this journal, hoping that it will help me confront the demons of my past and, in time, find my way back to the light.
To be honest though, I fucking doubt it.
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How do you start these? Is it cliche of me to say Dear Diary? Dr Railey said that I should write these as letters to someone...imagine that. Dear Charles, I love you, but today I dreamt you strangled me, and now I can't look you in the eye...doesn't sound right, does it?
Today was one of those days where I felt utterly trapped in this penthouse. The walls seem to close in on me, and the world outside feels like a distant memory. I tried to leave with Charles this morning, to go for a run along the coast, just like we used to. But as soon as we stepped outside and saw the city, I froze.
It was like a switch flipped inside me, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My heart raced, and I felt the familiar grip of panic take hold. Charles held me, his strong arms a lifeline, as I struggled to regain control. The therapist had warned me about this, the fear of paparazzi, of being in the public eye, but experiencing it was a different beast altogether.
I guess I thought I would feel safer back in Monaco.
The therapist called me after the episode, and she assured me it was normal. She recommended sneaking out at quieter hours, when the streets were less crowded, to help me acclimatize to the outside world again. It's going to be a challenge, but I know I can't stay locked inside forever.
On a brighter note, my father, Jacob, (I know, EW) came to visit today, bringing little Theo along with him. Theo's my bundle of joy. When he saw me, he gave me the tightest hug a four-year-old could muster and refused to let go until his Aunt Ally stopped crying.
Kids have this incredible ability to bring a smile to your face, no matter how dark the world feels.
I should know, I used to make my Mum smile all the time.
Theo wanted to go to the park, but I couldn't do it. It was too much. I felt awful. How long am I going to do this?
Charles told me to let go of the guilt. He said that he's proud, that I'm doing well. Somehow, I can't quite believe him. There's something in his eyes when he says it, like he's trying to convince himself too, not just me.
I'll never understand how I got so lucky with that man.
Tomorrow, I'll muster the courage to venture outside again, even if it's just for a short walk. I need to remind myself that the world can be a beautiful place, filled with moments of joy and connection. I won't let fear hold me back forever.
I can't.
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Today was both a blessing and a curse. Sebastian and Christian came to visit, bearing flowers and a gift basket from the Red Bull team. It was a kind gesture, and I appreciated their presence, but it also meant they had to face me in this fragile state.
I think they were both shocked when I asked them to sit the other side of the room. And when I refused to let them near me. Of course, they were never around when I was...well, the first time. They didn't know what it was like. I didn't realise it, but the only people I've let touch me are Charles and Theo.
It's like I'm circling the drain again.
I summoned the courage to ask them about what the media is saying, hoping for some clarity in the midst of all this chaos. But they refused to tell me, claiming it was better if I didn't know. That didn't sit well with me.
Ignorance isn't bliss; it's torment.
I need to confront the reality of the situation, as painful as it may be.
When I go back to racing, what am I going back too? Will I be the slut? The drug addict? Will I have deserved it because of the dress I was wearing? Or will they stand with me? Support me? I'd love to believe it's the latter, but as a woman, I know it'll be one of the first three.
I need to prepare myself for that.
I also mustered the courage to ask if I could attend the Hungarian Grand Prix, just to be there, in the paddock, to remind myself of what my life used to be. But they both advised against it. They said it wasn't a good idea, that the scrutiny and attention would be overwhelming. I can't help but feel like a prisoner in this penthouse, cut off from the world that used to be mine.
After Sebastian and Christian left, I found myself on the balcony, a bottle of wine in hand, and a notepad in the other. My sketching turned into angry scribbles, the pen tearing through the pages as if it could somehow release the frustration building inside me. Charles eventually found me there, and the poor man looked so scared and lost.
I know he's trying his best to support me through this, but I also know how helpless he feels. We both do. It's as if I'm slipping away, losing my grip on the life I once had. The darkness of my thoughts is overwhelming, and I fear I'm losing myself in it.
Tomorrow is a new day, and I'll try to find the strength to face it. But tonight, I'm trapped in this emotional maelstrom, struggling to find my way back out.
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The days are becoming an endless parade of darkness, and I'm struggling to find my way out. Today was particularly harsh. They've asked me to testify against Jackson in court. The mere thought sends shivers down my spine, and I can feel the panic attack clawing at the edges of my consciousness.
Multiple times today, I had to fight to catch my breath, to calm my racing heart.
Multiple times today, I had to look at Charles, to see those beautiful eyes and find the strength to keep fighting.
My therapist tells me it's PTSD, as if labeling this torment somehow makes it more manageable. But it doesn't. The darkness doesn't care about labels. It doesn't care about diagnoses. It just creeps in, relentless and suffocating.
I'm scared.
Scared that I'll never get over this trauma, that I'll always be trapped in this nightmare. My mind is a battleground, and I'm losing the fight against my own thoughts.
Charles doesn't deserve this. My family doesn't deserve this. They all seem so lost, so scared. I see the messages pop up on Charles phone. I know they're all terrified that this is it. They think they're watching me finally collapse into myself. They think that finally, after all these years, I'm broken.
Maybe I am. I don't think I know.
I want to fight, I want to race again, to laugh and spend time with my friends. But every time I think about walking out of the door...
I just can't.
The therapist encourages me to talk, to share my feelings, but what good does it do? Words are just words. They can't mend the shattered pieces of my soul or chase away the demons that haunt me.
I wish I could find solace in something, anything. But for now, I'm adrift in this sea of darkness.
For once, I think I understand why my father fell into his alcohol.
I understand why James fell in love with drugs.
And that's more terrifying than Jackson ever will be.
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Today was a test—a test I wasn't quite ready for. Charles had warned me against it, cautioned me that it might be too soon to be around so many people, but I wanted to fight. I wanted to reclaim a piece of my old self, even if it meant pushing myself too hard.
The boys came over—Lewis, Max, Daniel, Lando, and Carlos. As soon as they walked in, I froze. It was like my body had turned to stone, my mind trapped in a relentless whirlwind of fear and doubt. Lewis, who had been my rock through the darkest of times, tried to approach me, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of hurt. He wanted to help, to be there for me like he always had. But this time, this time was different.
After James and I were attacked, Lewis was the only person I would let near me, let touch me. But now...
I recoiled from his touch, a reflex born out of irrational fear. It's not that I don't trust him. I really do.
It's just that... I can't let him near me anymore, and that realization brought a wave of guilt crashing over me.
I saw the hurt in his eyes when he thought I didn't trust him anymore. He tried to reassure me, to say it was okay, but I knew it wasn't. I knew I was hurting him.
Tears streamed down my face as I begged for forgiveness, repeatedly telling him I was sorry, that I didn't understand why I couldn't let him close. Charles held me as I cried, his words of comfort a soothing balm for my wounded soul. But deep down, I knew that something had shifted between Lewis and I, something that might never be repaired.
I'm a horrible friend, and even worse person.
They leave in three days for the Hungarian GP. Charles has told me he doesn't want to go, and that he's likely going to miss it to stay with me, but I can't let that happen. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll be going to that GP.
The battle continues, and I feel like I'm losing ground every day. I wish I could go back to the way things were, to erase the scars that now mark my heart. But life doesn't work that way, does it?
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Today was a day I hadn't expected—a day of comfort, laughter, and healing. Max and Daniel came to visit, armed with blankets and an ingenious idea. They made Charles and me set up a pillow fort in the living room while they arranged a similar fort on the other side using kitchen stools. Snacks and cozy blankets were scattered around, and we all huddled in, ready for a movie day.
I have to admit that after about an hour, I began to feel myself relax, if only just a little. I think Charles noticed it too. He felt how my body melted into his arms, the tension gradually leaving my upper body. I sensed him turning to look at Max and Daniel, mouthing something to them with excitement.
It wasn't uncomfortable silence or awkwardness anymore; it was genuine comfort.
I still tensed up if they moved too fast, or when Daniel laughed too loud in the silence, but it was progress, and we all knew it.
We laughed at the silliest things, and for those precious hours, I didn't feel like a victim or a survivor. I was just me, Lexi, surrounded by friends who genuinely cared about my well-being. It was a glimmer of light in the darkness, and I clung to it fiercely.
As the credits rolled on the last movie, I realized how grateful I was for these moments, for the friends who hadn't given up on me even when I was pushing them away. It was a reminder that healing takes time, but it's possible, especially with the right support system.
With every passing day, I'm learning to accept the love and care that surrounds me, slowly chipping away at the walls I'd built to protect myself. It's a challenging journey, but I'm determined to make it through.
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Today was a day of unexpected surprises. Florence and Tom showing up on Charles's doorstep was the first one. I hadn't told Charles that I'd called them to come and stay with me so he could go to Hungary for the race. I promised him that I would be fine with my friends, and though he agreed to leave, I could see the guilt in his eyes.
He looked like he was leaving a piece of his heart behind, and I couldn't help but tease him, though we both knew how hard the goodbye was for both of us. We weren't ready for it.
Once Charles left, Tom and Florence joined me inside, and we engaged in meaningless small talk. It was like we were dancing around the elephant in the room, waiting for the right moment to address it. Eventually, I felt ready to share what had happened, and as the words spilled out of me, I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders.
Talking about it felt like a step toward healing.
Dr. Railey's advice might actually be working—I may be starting to move on.
In the evening, Florence decided to order food, and when the doorbell rang, it triggered a panic attack. My mind convinced me it was Jackson at the door, coming to hurt me again. Tom reassured me, reminding me that it was just the pizza delivery, but the fear clung to me like a shadow.
I went to bed early that night and decided to call Charles. His concern was palpable, and he wanted to come home immediately, but I argued with him. Our conversation helped me feel better, and it became clear that I couldn't keep taking baby steps forever. Something had to change.
Putting on my coat and walking out of the apartment, with Tom and Florence rushing behind me, calling for me to stop, felt like a leap into the unknown. The cool night air surrounded me as I ventured further from my comfort zone. It was dark, and the silence of the streets was both eerie and soothing. I took tentative steps, my heart pounding with each one. A street away from my building, I paused once more, my phone in hand.
Summoning the courage, I dialed Toto's number.
My voice trembled as I told him to get me three paddock passes for the upcoming race in Hungary. I emphasized that he shouldn't tell anyone. Toto asked if I was sure, if I was ready, and my reply was simple: I'd never be truly ready, but I had to try.
Fuck it, the devils in prison, and he's never getting out.
I'm as safe as I'll ever be.
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In the midst of the bustling paddock at the Hungarian Grand Prix, Lewis Hamilton made his way to the Ferrari garage. He looked around, his eyes scanning the red-clad team members as he sought someone to convey a message. Spotting Xavi, one of the Ferrari mechanics, he approached him with a request.
"Hey, Xavi," Lewis began, "can you do me a favor and ask Charles if he can meet me at my trailer in about twenty minutes?"
Xavi nodded, his curiosity piqued but without asking any questions. "Sure, I'll let him know right away."
Twenty minutes later, Lewis stood outside his trailer, awaiting Charles' arrival. The Ferrari driver appeared, a look of confusion on his face as he approached Lewis.
"Hey, Lewis, what's this all about?" Charles inquired. "Have you heard from Ally? Is she okay?"
Without saying a word, Lewis unlocked the door and swung it open. Charles stepped inside the trailer and froze, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. There, sitting on a small couch, was Alexandra, looking pale and shaky but unmistakably present.
Charles couldn't contain his emotions any longer. He rushed towards her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Alexandra clung to him, tears streaming down her face as she cried in his arms. Her body trembled, and Charles's worry deepened.
"Alex, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Charles asked, concern lacing his words.
Alexandra pulled back slightly, her watery eyes meeting his. "I'm just crying because I've missed you so much," she admitted, her voice trembling. She laughed. "Sorry, that's really stupid of me."
Charles's heart swelled with both relief and affection. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. "I've missed you too, more than you can imagine."
As they held each other, Charles couldn't help but wonder how Alexandra had managed to be here. He asked her with a mixture of astonishment and curiosity. "What are you doing her amor?"
Alexandra managed a small grin through her tears. "I begged Toto to get me a pass. It was now or never, Charles. I had to try to move on, pick myself up, and dust myself off."
Charles leaned down and kissed her tenderly, his lips conveying his pride and admiration. "I'm so proud of you, Alex." His curiosity got the best of him as he inquired further, "But how did you avoid the paparazzi?"
Alexandra's grin turned mischievous as she explained, "We convinced James to smuggle me into the paddock in a trash can."
Charles burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. "Only James could pull off something like that," he remarked, shaking his head.
Hugging her once more, Charles whispered into her ear, "I love you, Alexandra."
For the first time in a month, Alexandra felt a lightness in her soul. She whispered back, "I love you too, Charles." The weight of the past was still there, but in this moment, they found solace in each other's arms, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
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