Truth and lies, reality and illusion—a tangled, chaotic mess.
The paddock was always like this. Endless rumors and constant whispers filled the air. Knowing how to sift through the chaos and grasp the actual truth was an art form; it was a highly specialized skill.
Whoever could see through the fog and identify the illusions would hold the upper hand when the knives were drawn and the brutal, close-quarters combat began.
For years, Toto Wolff had consistently proven himself to be a master of this game. That was why Mercedes-Benz had secured five consecutive Constructors' World Championships. It was truly that simple.
And now, Mercedes-Benz was actively making their move, aiming their weapons directly at Sebastian Vettel and Kai. In their trunk, they still held Valtteri Bottas and George Russell as backup options. And don't forget Esteban Ocon, who Wolff had just recycled and brought back into the fold. In this high-stakes game, Wolff remained the player holding the initiative.
So, what was the actual truth?
Simultaneously, how were Ferrari, Red Bull, McLaren, Force India, Williams, and the rest of the teams preparing to strike? What roles were they going to play in this unfolding drama?
The storm raged, howling as it swept across the landscape, leaving absolutely nothing untouched in its devastating wake.
And what about Kai, one of the central protagonists of this drama?
Caught in this typhoon of capital driven by the ultimate masters of the sport, this raw rookie—who had exploded out of nowhere, plunged straight into the center of the spotlight, and been swallowed by the tidal waves—had become the primary target for everyone simply because he held the ultimate treasure. Chased, hunted, and surrounded by flashing blades from every direction, how exactly was he supposed to handle all of this?
Sunlight. Coca-Cola. Pizza. An infinity pool.
Golden rays danced across the crystal-clear, azure surface of the water. Lying on an inflatable raft, wrapped in the warmth of the sun, Kai floated gently on the pool.
It was a picture of leisurely comfort tinged with a hint of laziness. The chaotic, tangled thoughts in his mind quietly melted away in the warm currents, leaving him feeling completely weightless.
Despite being the protagonist trapped dead center in the eye of the storm, Kai was thoroughly enjoying an afternoon of doing absolutely nothing. He had rejected Max Verstappen's relentless requests to game online, temporarily shoved work, training, and all other distractions aside, and situated himself right in the heart of Monaco, soaking in the absolute tranquility.
The deafening roar of social media and the violent upheavals of the real world seemingly didn't exist for him.
Charles Leclerc lay on a nearby lounge chair and set his phone down. The terrifying tidal waves trapped within the screen instantly vanished, and the world grew quiet. Yet, the residual madness and turbulence lingering in his mind kept his thoughts reeling, his eyelids twitching slightly.
Looking up at Kai, whose mind seemed as placid as a monk's, Leclerc still couldn't believe his eyes. None of it felt real.
How on earth was Kai doing this? Enveloped in a storm that was literally turning the world upside down, even someone dedicating 100% of their focus and effort wouldn't be guaranteed to survive unscathed. Yet Kai was strolling through the chaos with casual, unhurried ease. He wasn't putting on a mask or plugging his ears to pretend nothing was happening; it was a profound, unshakeable calmness radiating from the inside out. It was an aura that suggested even if the sky collapsed and the earth shattered, he would still calmly face the disaster head-on. That aura made all the surrounding panic and chaos feel entirely insignificant.
Was this the secret to how Kai had achieved a miracle in his rookie season?
After all—
When Lewis Hamilton stood on the threshold of history in his rookie year, he had succumbed to the pressure, pressed the wrong button, and thrown it all away. But clearly, Kai hadn't.
"...Calm down, Charles. Calm down."
Kai's lazy drawl drifted over from the pool. Leclerc immediately snapped his gaze away, hurriedly packing away his messy thoughts, and stared fixedly at the sky.
"I know my good looks are enviable, and not everyone can survive on their face alone," Kai continued. "But if you keep staring at me like the Little Mermaid peeking at Prince Charming, it isn't going to change your destiny. Be jealous if you want, but there's no need to make yourself depressed over it."
Pfft.
Anthoine Hubert couldn't hold it back and let out a snort of laughter. But glancing at Pierre Gasly, who was fast asleep next to him, Hubert quickly pressed his lips together and restrained himself.
Leclerc rolled his eyes dramatically. "I was just trying to figure out which of the Seven Dwarfs you are, okay? You know you all look exactly the same to me."
Kai didn't miss a beat. "Oh. So are you Snow White, or the Evil Queen?"
Leclerc: ...
Hubert was struggling violently to hold in his laughter. Realizing this couldn't continue, he decided to flip the script. He took the initiative to ask the burning question on Leclerc's behalf. "Are you really not worried? I mean, do you actually trust Toto?"
Wolff was notoriously two-faced. He was negotiating with Kai while simultaneously courting Vettel. On the surface, he projected absolute sincerity, but he wouldn't hesitate for a second to stab you in the back.
For these young drivers, it was difficult to process. Even if logic dictated that this was simply how the paddock operated, emotionally, it was a very tough pill to swallow.
"I believe him," Kai said.
It was a completely unexpected answer. Neither Leclerc nor Hubert had anticipated it. They exchanged a bewildered glance.
Leclerc grew slightly anxious. "Why?"
Kai remained perfectly calm, floating under the sun with his sunglasses on. "I said I believe him. I didn't say I trust him."
"I believe the plan Wolff laid out. When he negotiated with me, he was being completely sincere. He has genuinely developed a highly detailed, comprehensive strategy centered entirely around me."
"But that doesn't mean he can't develop plans for other people."
"In the paddock, you can never put all your eggs in one basket and rely on a single plan. You need Plan A, B, C, D, and E. You have to cover every single base. If the first plan fails, you execute the backup. If the second fails, you move to the third. If they all fail, you improvise and adapt on the fly."
"He can build a master plan around me, but that doesn't stop him from simultaneously developing entirely different master plans for Vettel, Bottas, Russell, and even Ocon."
"Right now, everyone's eyes are locked on us. But who knows? As Ocon's manager, how is Wolff calculating and leveraging the team's resources to maximize his own personal interests? In everyday life, we always say 'seeing is believing.' But in the paddock, what your eyes see isn't necessarily the truth."
"It really is that simple."
Furthermore, forget about massive operations like Mercedes-Benz, Ferrari, or Red Bull; even within smaller teams like Williams or Haas, deep internal divisions existed. Different interest groups had entirely different agendas. Ultimately, whose plan was adopted—
Clearly didn't depend on whose plan was objectively the best, but on whose political maneuvering and power plays were the strongest.
If someone told Kai right now that Mercedes-Benz was internally fractured into four distinct factions actively lobbying for Kai, Bottas, Russell, and Vettel respectively, Kai wouldn't be surprised in the slightest.
After all, Ferrari's internal structure was exactly like that.
Leclerc blinked, slightly stunned. "So you're preparing to say yes to Mercedes-Benz? Are you absolutely certain you aren't going to reconsider Ferrari?"
The corners of Kai's mouth lifted. "What, do you want me to stay at Ferrari?"
"Of course!"
It wasn't just Leclerc; Hubert enthusiastically voiced his agreement as well. In just one short season, Kai had undeniably become an integral piece of Ferrari's identity. When they thought about Ferrari's 2018 season, the very first image that naturally sprang to mind was the vibrant red of the Number 22 car.
If possible, they desperately wanted to see Kai continue driving that Ferrari forward.
A soft chuckle rumbled in Kai's throat. "No rush. I demanded that Toto give me the Number One driver status, or else kick Hamilton out entirely."
If he didn't secure that guarantee, the exact same drama that had played out at Ferrari this year would inevitably repeat itself at Mercedes next year. This year at Ferrari, Kai had Sergio Marchionne backing him, allowing him to carve a bloody path forward. But if he went to Mercedes next year without a powerful patron, absolutely no one could predict how that story would end.
The crucial point wasn't whether Wolff actually agreed to the demand, but rather how Wolff responded and reacted to it—though, of course, if he simply agreed, that would be ideal.
"Toto still hasn't given me an answer on that."
He delivered the bombshell casually, casually joking as if discussing the weather.
Leclerc and Hubert were dumbstruck, doubting their own ears. For a moment, they couldn't even tell if Kai was joking.
The terrifying problem was: because it was Kai, it was entirely possible he was dead serious!
But that was Lewis-fucking-Hamilton!
Leclerc looked at Hubert; Hubert looked at Leclerc. Both had blank, vacant expressions on their faces, having temporarily lost all capacity to react.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Before they could process the shock, Leclerc's phone began to vibrate, shattering the silence.
Leclerc's first instinct was to ignore it. They were in the middle of discussing massive, world-altering events; he couldn't be interrupted now. But the moment he set the phone back down, it started vibrating again.
Buzz. Buzz.
It was relentless.
Staring at the vibrating phone, Leclerc felt a spike of irritation. His entire focus was locked on Kai. He was desperately curious about the hurricane sweeping the paddock.
Not just Mercedes-Benz, but Red Bull and McLaren too. And, of course, the epicenter of the entire storm: Ferrari.
And now, some unknown caller was buzzing away like an annoying fly. This had better not be someone trying to sell him car insurance!
Leclerc let out a long, frustrated sigh and answered the phone, his tone reflecting his annoyance. "This is Charles Leclerc."
The irritation was obvious; his words practically collided with the receiver.
Nearby, the sleeping Gasly mumbled something incoherent, rolled over, and looked like he was about to wake up. Amazingly, after finding a new position, he immediately fell back into a deep sleep.
Hubert glanced at Leclerc, opening his mouth to speak but stopping himself.
Despite his burning curiosity—he really, truly wanted to know all the inside details, especially regarding the current status of Kai's negotiations with the various teams—he was using every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself. He didn't want to dig for gossip or pry into Kai's highly sensitive corporate secrets.
Besides, Leclerc was on the phone. Who knew who was on the other end? If confidential information accidentally leaked, it would be a disaster.
However, Hubert's admiration for Kai deepened significantly.
It wasn't just his prowess on the track or his maneuvering in the paddock; it was his demeanor in everyday life. Facing relentless pursuit from the 'Big Three' and the entire motorsport world, Kai remained perfectly calm and remarkably lucid. The world-ending chaos raging on social media stood in stark contrast to the peaceful, lazy scene right in front of him. The more Hubert understood the situation, the more he realized just how terrifyingly formidable Kai truly was.
How on earth did Kai do it? How did he stand immovable like a mountain amidst the torrential floods of the paddock, resolutely guarding his convictions?
That was what Hubert was genuinely curious about, not the cheap gossip of who Kai was going to sign with.
Next year, Hubert would be graduating from GP3 to F2. Even in the lower-stakes arena of F2, the cutthroat battles for resources and seats were already dazzlingly complex and overwhelming. Only by being thrust into the middle of it did he truly realize how incredibly difficult it was to maintain one's sanity and stay true to oneself amidst the bizarre, intoxicating allure of the paddock. And then he looked at Kai—
"No, I haven't agreed to anything with Red Bull yet, either."
With his eyes closed, Kai seemed to physically sense the burning intensity of Hubert's stare. A smile touched his lips as he casually tossed the answer over.
Hubert took a deep breath. The question "Why?" was already on the tip of his tongue, but he was abruptly cut off by Leclerc's voice, which was suddenly laced with profound surprise and shock.
"Yes, Mr. Elkann."
Hubert: ...What? Wait. John Elkann?!
Instinctively, Hubert looked toward Kai. It was as if he subconsciously believed that no matter the problem or the mystery, Kai would somehow possess the answer.
Laying on the raft, Kai pushed his sunglasses down slightly and turned his head to look as well.
Unfortunately, this time Kai didn't have the answer. He was just as clueless as Hubert. He wasn't a prophet; he couldn't predict every single move those old foxes were going to make.
Therefore, he genuinely didn't know if the person currently speaking with Leclerc was the John Elkann they were all familiar with.
At that moment, Leclerc clearly realized the extreme gravity of the situation. He straightened his spine, collected his emotions, and walked away from the pool to create some distance, treating the phone call with the utmost solemnity.
Hubert looked back at Kai, exaggerating his mouth movements to whisper silently, "Ferrari? Now? Why?"
Shouldn't Ferrari be desperately busy cleaning up their massive PR disaster and doing absolutely everything in their power to win back Vettel and Kai? Why was Elkann calling Leclerc?
Hubert's head was full of question marks. Kai's brain was operating at maximum capacity. He gave Hubert a slight nod, signaling him to stay quiet—
He had a premonition.
If the person on the other end of that line was truly John Elkann, and Elkann was personally calling Leclerc right in the middle of this chaotic, destructive hurricane... did that mean Elkann, after all the endless power struggles and exhausting political calculations, had finally realized that Sergio Marchionne was right all along?
So, after spinning in circles for over five months, after tossing and turning and creating a mountain of unnecessary drama, Elkann was finally willing to execute Marchionne's original blueprint?
Even though they had taken a massive, agonizing detour; even though they had wasted immense effort on pointless maneuvers; even though they had burned through vast amounts of unnecessary energy... they had finally realized their mistake and found their way back. At least it wasn't too late. The 2019 season hadn't started yet. They still had a chance to wrench the train back onto the correct tracks.
But a guess is just a guess. Kai couldn't be certain.
So, they kept their mouths shut and waited to see how the situation evolved. Both Kai and Hubert locked their eyes onto Leclerc.
"...Yes, I chose Number 16. There are several reasons, but a major factor is indeed because it's the closest available number to 17. Jules is still, and always will be, an indispensable part of my life..."
"...Yes, sir... Of course, it would be my absolute honor. No, it's more than that. This has always been my ultimate dream... I honestly can't even remember when it started. From the moment my memories begin, it was just an accepted fact of my existence. I wanted to drive a Ferrari. I wanted to wear the red race suit."
"Of course. Hehe. Believe me, I know exactly how massive a challenge it is." As he spoke, Leclerc did something highly unusual—he turned around and looked directly at the pool, his gaze locking intensely onto Kai, who was still basking in the sunlight. "No one can surpass what he did. After all, winning the championship in your rookie season is a feat that can only happen once. At best, it can only be replicated, never surpassed. Even if someone manages to replicate it, they will always just be the person who did it second."
A fierce smile broke across Leclerc's face.
"But I believe I can beat him. Yes, sir. The moment I step onto the asphalt, I will fight with absolutely everything I have to defeat every single competitor on the grid. Including him."
"I am ready."
As he spoke, he stared at Kai with overflowing confidence, his eyes issuing a blazing, undeniable challenge.
Kai pushed himself up slightly, resting on his hands. His sunglasses slid further down, resting on the tip of his nose. He looked back at Leclerc, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a matching grin.
Leclerc exchanged a few more polite, formal pleasantries over the phone before finally hanging up.
He walked a few steps forward, stopping at the edge of the pool. Feeling the intense, questioning stares from Kai and Hubert, he took a deep breath.
He threw his arms wide open, basking in the sun, looking like Jesus Christ on the mountaintop. "I am joining Ferrari."
Word by word, he dropped the nuclear bomb.
The air froze. Only the lingering echo of Leclerc's voice hung in the space. There was no immediate response, but you could physically feel the rolling heatwave of absolute euphoria and adrenaline beginning to surge.
Until—
The smile couldn't be contained any longer. It shot upward, blooming with wild abandon. Leclerc took a massive leap, launching himself into the air. He tucked his knees into his chest and hit the pool like a cannonball.
A massive wave erupted, instantly flipping Kai's raft and sending water splashing far up onto the deck.
Hubert finally snapped out of his shock. He grabbed his head, screaming in pure disbelief. "God! Oh my God! GOD!"
He mumbled incoherently, entirely unable to find the words to express his overwhelming emotion. Finally, he gave up, shouting wildly and leaping into the pool to join Leclerc in a chaotic, splashing celebration.
The water churned violently. A massive splash hit the sleeping Gasly right in the face. The ice-cold shock jolted him awake instantly. He opened his eyes, completely disoriented.
"What's going on?! What happened?! Earthquake?! Tsunami?! God!"
Hubert popped out of the water. "Pierre! Charles is going to Ferrari! FERRARI!"
Gasly was still half-asleep, groggily trying to process the words.
He didn't realize that Kai had secretly climbed out of the pool and snuck up right behind him. Leaning in close, Kai whispered urgently, "Red Bull is calling!"
The moment the words hit his ear, Gasly snapped fully awake. Before he could even react, Kai shoved him forward. With a strange yelp, Gasly tumbled headfirst into the pool.
Without hesitating, Kai took a running start and executed a flawless backflip, crashing into the water and sending another massive wave surging outward.
Kai breached the surface, looking at the beaming Leclerc. "Charles Leclerc, pronounced 'Sharl' in French. Congratulations. Welcome to Ferrari!"
The moment he finished speaking, Kai pushed both hands forward, sending wave after wave of water crashing down on Leclerc. Leclerc prepared to fight back, only to realize that Hubert and Gasly had already joined forces with Kai. "Three against one!" The poor guy was instantly swallowed by an overwhelming barrage of splashes, their joyous laughter echoing brilliantly under the sun.
...
On the other end of the line, John Elkann hung up the phone. Turning around, he met the gaze of Louis Camilleri.
The mild-mannered CEO, whose cheeks always seemed slightly flushed and whose eyes perpetually resembled a sad puppy's, looked deeply worried. He hesitated for a moment. "...John, are you sure about this?"
Elkann's face was expressionless. Even though the corners of his mouth were slightly relaxed, there was absolutely no warmth in his eyes. "Louis, I was under the impression you supported Sergio's plan."
Perhaps he looked like a friendly, approachable Santa Claus on the surface, but clearly, Camilleri hadn't become the CEO of Ferrari by accident. Having his true allegiance bluntly exposed by Elkann—that he was a staunch Marchionne loyalist within the senior executive ranks and firmly aligned with the technical faction—Camilleri displayed a flicker of shy embarrassment, seemingly caught off guard. Yet, the words that came out of his mouth painted an entirely different picture.
"My concern is for you," Camilleri deflected smoothly, masterfully shifting the topic and redirecting the focus back onto Elkann before a tense confrontation could solidify.
It was a textbook execution of deflecting a thousand pounds of force with a single ounce of effort, effortlessly defusing the crisis.
By now, Elkann had entirely regained his composure. He projected the commanding, unshakeable aura of the Fiat Group heir, controlling the entire board with effortless grace.
Initially, Elkann had actively tried to escape Marchionne's influence. He wanted to dismantle the blueprint Marchionne had left behind and aggressively launch a brand new era—
The era of John Elkann.
In Elkann's original master plan, Ferrari's 2019 driver lineup would have remained Vettel and Kai. A partnership of two World Champions. Ferrari would be the only team in the entire paddock boasting such an extravagant luxury. Following the tradition of pairing Vettel with Kimi Räikkönen, he intended to maintain that immense prestige.
But clearly, that plan had hit a brick wall. He had been forced into a humiliating retreat, suffering defeat after defeat. Worse still, Elkann found himself trapped in a crisis, his leadership abilities being severely questioned across the board.
The 'Kai Plan'... was completely botched. It had mutated into an outright rebellion by the Tifosi, and Elkann was already feeling the immense pressure crushing down from the Fiat Group executives.
The 'Vettel Plan'... had also drastically failed to meet expectations. In truth, Ferrari had offered Vettel a massive, top-tier contract, absolutely guaranteeing that his financial compensation would remain at the absolute pinnacle of the paddock.
But clearly, Vettel refused to be relegated to the Number Two driver. He was even more unwilling to accept the role of the 'aging veteran' acting as a rear-gunner to protect Kai, exactly as Räikkönen had done for him last year.
For Vettel, it was a profound insult.
He firmly believed he still possessed the ability to fight for the Drivers' World Championship. He believed he was still one of the most elite, overwhelmingly talented drivers on the grid.
Years ago, there were many reasons why Vettel chose to leave Red Bull and join Ferrari. But one of the primary drivers was his desperate need to prove himself:
At the time, the prevailing narrative among experts and fans was that Vettel's individual skill wasn't the primary reason he won those championships. They claimed he only won because Red Bull possessed the undisputed, singular 'rocket ship' on the grid. They argued that despite holding four World Championship trophies, he lacked the inherent greatness required to be recorded in history as a true, transcendent legend.
The moment the Red Bull car was no longer the dominant rocket ship, Vettel's competitiveness fell off a cliff.
Because of this, Vettel resolutely abandoned Red Bull. He needed to venture out into the wider world, explore different possibilities, and prove his raw talent.
Over the years, Vettel had hungered to win a World Championship driving a Ferrari—not just because of his love and reverence for the iconic brand, but because he was still, desperately, trying to prove himself to his critics.
And the situation was exactly the same now.
The exact same motivation that had driven Vettel away from Red Bull was now driving him away from Ferrari. In a twist of poetic irony, he had ultimately transformed into Fernando Alonso.
Elkann had recognized Vettel's hesitation and anxiety. But he had never, in his wildest nightmares, imagined that Vettel would actually contact Mercedes-Benz. And he certainly never imagined that Mercedes would actually offer Vettel a contract. The sudden, devastating attack from their primary rival had instantly plunged Elkann into a catastrophic crisis.
He was standing on the absolute edge of a cliff.
In an instant, Elkann's meticulously crafted master plan had shattered into a million pieces. The very first step he took after assuming total control of Ferrari had been met with a devastating, humiliating defeat.
Obviously, this was not the outcome Elkann wanted to see.
Anger, anxiety, humiliation, shame, insecurity, frustration—all those negative emotions flooded his system. Ultimately, it proved that Elkann was still too green; he lacked the seasoned ruthlessness required for the job. However, Elkann had managed to carve a bloody path through the vicious infighting of his own family to secure his position as the heir to the Fiat empire. He possessed his own unique strengths and undeniable capabilities.
When one plan fails, you execute the backup plan. Or the secondary plan. Or an emergency contingency. Solving problems and navigating crises was, in itself, a vital demonstration of leadership capability.
Since he couldn't escape Marchionne's shadow, he would simply ride the current. He would continue executing Marchionne's original plan, using the opportunity to slowly infiltrate and assert his own influence throughout the process.
If it succeeded, he would slowly, methodically claim the credit and the glory for himself. After all, Marchionne was gone. Dead men can't claim credit; they only become symbols. As the living, breathing executive in charge, Elkann would inherit Marchionne's glory, eventually absorbing Marchionne's blueprint entirely into his own personal legacy of success.
If it failed, he could quietly, seamlessly shift the blame entirely onto Marchionne's ghost. He could put on a mask of deep, agonizing regret, and then use that precise moment to launch his own, original plan. He would use the failure as justification to ruthlessly uproot every single remnant of Marchionne's loyalist factions within Ferrari. When the time came, anyone who needed to be dealt with wouldn't be able to hide.
The crisis was real, and the suffocation and humiliation were genuine. But Elkann calmed himself down. Standing high above it all, he completely remapped the global strategy.
Over the past six months of constant maneuvering and power struggles, Elkann had exposed his flaws: inexperience, hesitation, and indecision. His capabilities hadn't matched his overwhelming ambition. But after suffering a series of brutal, real-world beatings, he finally displayed the true, iron-willed ruthlessness of the Fiat Group heir. He revealed his capacity for cold, decisive execution.
Meeting Camilleri's gaze, the tight curve of Elkann's lips finally softened into a genuine, albeit chilling, smile. He turned his head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the sprawling landscape of Maranello.
"Louis, that was Sergio's plan. The brilliant, omnipotent Sergio. How could Sergio's plan possibly be wrong? All we need to do is execute the plan exactly as he laid it out, and Ferrari will be great again. We took a minor detour, but now we are firmly back on track."
"What is there left to worry about, right?"
—Creating a God!
Undeniably, this was not the outcome Elkann had desired. But it had happened. It was irreversible. The power of the Tifosi had already mutated into an uncontrollable hurricane. His own dissatisfaction, frustration, and depression were completely useless now. Therefore, the absolute best solution was to ride the wave. He would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Tifosi and help them build their God.
A deity stands high above the mortal realm, unapproachable and unquestionable. By definition, a deity must single-handedly shoulder all expectations, all pressure, and all hope. Success is simply expected—it's the bare minimum. But failure? Failure is absolutely unacceptable.
Just look at Lionel Messi. The hope for the entire renaissance of Argentine football was placed squarely on his shoulders. An ordinary man was transformed into a deity. The pressure he endured was beyond the limits of human imagination. Forget about outright failure; even performing "not quite well enough" was treated as an unforgivable sin.
Since the Tifosi had placed the entire burden of Ferrari's revitalization squarely onto Kai's shoulders, Elkann would happily oblige the wishes of millions of fans. He would propel Kai to an unimaginably terrifying height.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
Now, they would see if Kai's neck was strong enough to support the crushing weight of that crown.
There was another term for this strategy: Death by praise.
If Kai succeeded, Elkann would comfortably reap the massive corporate rewards. If Kai failed, Elkann could effortlessly shift the blame and wipe his hands clean.
Regardless of the outcome, Elkann would emerge as the ultimate victor. He simply needed to endure for a while. He needed to lay low, temporarily concealing his pride and his burning ambition, biding his time in the shadows while waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
A smile slowly blossomed on his face. The sunlight piercing through the glass illuminated Elkann. In that specific moment, he looked like Zeus himself, holding the power of life and death over all creation.
"Honestly, I'm quite looking forward to seeing how the rest of this story plays out. I want to see exactly how high he can climb. A brand new chapter for Ferrari has just begun. Everyone is calling him the second coming of Schumacher. So, we should all expect a glorious decade of dominance. Don't you agree, Louis?"
Elkann asked.
His tone was friendly and warm, his eyes shining brightly, seemingly filled with the dawn of a new hope.
Camilleri, however, felt a bone-deep chill.
The sun was shining brightly outside the window, yet he couldn't suppress a violent shiver.
But, since Elkann was finally aligned with Marchionne's vision and had returned to the intended path, Camilleri had no reason to continue fighting him. The only thing they could do now was play their parts perfectly, uniting their efforts to push Marchionne's plan forward, and then—
And then, pray silently that Marchionne was right. Pray that Kai truly was the ultimate answer.
So, was Kai really the answer?
Camilleri had always believed so. He had trusted Marchionne implicitly. Especially after Kai secured the Drivers' World Championship, all of Marchionne's loyalists had felt their blood boil with renewed purpose. They were ready to pour their hearts and souls into executing his grand blueprint.
But now, that unwavering conviction began to waver slightly. The crushing, avalanche-like pressure instantly suffocated him. Camilleri's palms were slick with sweat.
Camilleri clenched his fists tightly, trapping the nervous sweat inside his palms. He squeezed tighter, and tighter still. The hesitation and doubt in his eyes vanished without a trace, replaced by an ironclad, unyielding resolve.
Once the arrow is loosed, it cannot be recalled.
If this was a reckless gamble, they had to push forward with everything they had. There was no turning back.
Step One: Abandon Vettel and sign Leclerc.
In truth, long before the summer break, during the British Grand Prix weekend, Marchionne had already informed the Ferrari board of directors about this exact plan, quietly brewing the storm.
Furthermore, Marchionne had displayed his ruthless political mastery by securing a majority vote from the board. The plan was already actively in motion.
According to the original timeline, the decision was supposed to be announced immediately after the summer break: Charles Leclerc would represent Ferrari in the 2019 season.
Looking back on that specific weekend now... the Silverstone circuit was indeed thick with turmoil and chaos. It wasn't just because of Force India's catastrophic financial collapse; the entire Ferrari board of directors had shown up in full force.
At the time, everyone assumed they were there because of Marchionne's impending surgery. Only now was the true answer finally revealed.
Even though half a year had passed, the shock value hadn't diminished in the slightest. So, as early as Silverstone, Marchionne was already aggressively laying the groundwork for Ferrari's future. At that time, Kai had only secured two Grand Prix victories—Australia and Monaco—and was facing intense scrutiny for his inconsistent performance on the track. Yet, Marchionne still trusted Kai implicitly, and had already definitively chosen between Vettel and Kai.
That was more than just courage.
Looking at Marchionne, and then looking at the current crop of executives running the paddock, a sigh of profound awe naturally escaped one's lips.
Tragically, Marchionne's surgery became the fatal turning point. After the passing of the legendary titan, Ferrari plunged into chaos, and the plan was completely shelved.
After endless delays and chaotic maneuvering, it was finally being executed during the off-season.
This meant—
On one hand, Ferrari had ultimately decided to abandon Sebastian Vettel. The partnership between the four-time World Champion and the Prancing Horse had not resulted in a beautiful legacy.
On the other hand, Ferrari had finally taken the most monumental step in the history of the team. They were no longer chasing the fading glory of established World Champions. They were placing their absolute, total faith in their own youth academy system. Pairing two young, academy-grown drivers together was undeniably a brand new, revolutionary chapter in Ferrari's history.
Simultaneously, Williams' disastrous 2018 season had proven, for the 101st time, that pairing two highly inexperienced drivers together was generally a terrible strategic choice. Within the paddock, the proven formula for success was either pairing two highly experienced veterans, or pairing a seasoned veteran with a promising rookie. This had been validated countless times.
Historically, Ferrari had been the absolute staunchest defender of this traditional, highly conservative strategy. Who could have possibly imagined that Ferrari—the team least likely to break this golden rule—would commit the ultimate heresy, shattering their own traditions to field a lineup of two young drivers for a brand new season?
And all of this was happening now, right after Ferrari had finally reclaimed the Drivers' World Championship after a ten-year drought. Without a doubt, the decision carried an even more profound, groundbreaking significance.
Perhaps, in this brutal turbo-hybrid era, Marchionne's relentless exploration, trial and error, and bold risk-taking had finally uncovered a unique, viable path specifically for Ferrari?
It was just one small step, but for Ferrari, it was an unimaginably massive gamble.
However, the truly terrifying part was that this was only the beginning—
Elkann seemed to have finally unleashed the courage and ruthlessness of a true supreme leader, taking a machete to the established order.
Step Two: A massive tectonic shift in the Team Principal position. Maurizio Arrivabene steps down. Mattia Binotto steps up.
A single stone triggers a thousand ripples.
For the Tifosi and the casual onlookers, this might have just looked like a standard change in management. But the true focal point lay entirely in the relationship between Arrivabene and Kai.
Looking back across the entire 2018 season, Ferrari's strategy team had consistently been half a beat too slow, and Arrivabene had fundamentally failed to manage the toxic, escalating rivalry between Kai and Vettel. Initially, people assumed that after Kai achieved the miraculous feat of winning the World Championship, their past grievances would be wiped clean. The slate would be blank. They assumed Arrivabene would find his footing, adjust his expectations, and work hand-in-hand with Kai to launch a brand new campaign.
However, with Vettel refusing to renew his contract and seeking an exit, the internal power structure at Ferrari completed its brutal transition. 'Uncle Arrivabene' was ultimately forced to quietly exit the stage in disgrace.
So, was Arrivabene's departure because of Kai? What was the real reason behind Binotto's sudden ascension? Did this mean Ferrari had finally, officially cemented Kai's supreme status within the team's hierarchy?
For the paddock insiders, this decision obviously carried much deeper implications. It wasn't just a change in leadership, nor was it simply about elevating Kai. The critical crux of the matter was the bitter, long-standing war between Ferrari's management faction and technical faction. In a shocking upset, the war concluded with a definitive victory for the technical faction.
Since returning from the summer break, the vicious infighting between the two factions had surfaced, escalating to a white-hot intensity.
On the track, the technical faction had finally managed to claw back some initiative. A series of aggressive upgrades and adjustments had restored the car's competitiveness, which ultimately laid the technological foundation for Kai's World Championship. But off the track, the management faction, led by Elkann, had been applying crushing pressure, cleverly attempting to weaponize those on-track victories to consolidate their own power.
Just when it seemed the management faction was on the verge of total victory and absolute control, the off-season delivered a devastating, world-ending counter-punch. The technical faction had risen up and seized total power.
So, had Elkann been outmaneuvered and overthrown? Or had Elkann executed a brutal, last-minute betrayal against his own management faction, switching sides to become the critical force that allowed the technical faction to take control? What role did Binotto play in this internal hurricane? Was his promotion a carefully calculated compromise to balance the scales, or a ruthless display of raw power?
These were the truly thrilling, electrifying details. And they were also highly classified secrets locked tightly behind Ferrari's closed doors, completely hidden from outside scrutiny.
Now, a massive new challenge sat squarely in front of Ferrari: given the chaotic, painfully slow tactical strategy the team had displayed over the past few seasons, could Binotto—a man whose entire background and expertise lay strictly in technical engineering—truly be the correct answer for Team Principal?
After all, the role of Team Principal wasn't simple. In the rapidly evolving, split-second chaos of a Formula 1 race, their decisive judgment played an absolutely critical role.
Furthermore, did the technical faction's total victory guarantee that Ferrari's race car development would finally leap forward? Putting the 2019 season aside for a moment, could they build a true 'rocket ship' for the 2020 season?
Or, lacking the broad, visionary oversight of the management faction, would the technical engineers in Maranello become trapped in their own insular echo chamber? Would they succumb to arrogant complacency, effectively destroying all the progress Ferrari had made so far?
On the surface, the technical faction had won the war.
But the management faction, forced into the shadows and forced to lie dormant, was now infinitely more dangerous. How could a faction that excelled in political scheming and long-term manipulation simply surrender? And what role was Elkann, standing at the absolute peak of the mountain, preparing to play next?
Ferrari appeared to have finally entered a brand new era, but in reality, countless hidden dangers still lurked beneath the surface. The catastrophic fallout from losing Sergio Marchionne was continuing to inflict severe damage.
This brand new landscape could be a blessing, but it could equally be a curse. Of course, outsiders looking through the fog had no way of knowing the truth, and even those inside the fortress couldn't predict the future. Only time would reveal the true significance of the massive, earth-shattering moves made during this off-season.
Step Three: Italian driver Antonio Giovinazzi signs with Sauber.