“Save it, Figgy.” We’ve reached my father’s office, but either way, I’m done with the conversation. “It didn’t need to be like this.”
I step inside before she can say anything else.
My father’s already seated behind his desk, with Edith in one of the chairs across from him while Andrew stands by the window. I shut the door behind me, pushing aside my brewing anger with Figgy, then take a seat next to Edith.
Whatever I’ve missed must have been the equivalent of a bomb dropping, because when I glance at my sister, she’s slack-jawed and barely breathing. My attention shifts to Andrew, whose arms are folded tightly over his chest, but there’s triumph in the set of his shoulders.
“What’s going on?” I dare to ask.
Our father inhales deeply as he laces his fingers on the desktop. “As you know, Thomas, I’ll be retiring soon. I was just discussing A.P. Maxwell’s succession plan for when that happens at the end of next year. I figured since we were all together,now was the best time to make my intentions known to everyone.”
The timeline has me leaning back in my seat, surprised. Last I heard, he was planning to stay on as CEO for a few more years. This is a massive shift.
“Edith will remain as COO,” he continues. “And Andrew will become our CEO.”
That explains the mood in the room. I could have sworn Edith was going to take over the show. It’s not that my brother is incompetent, but Edith is just…better at everything. The idea of her having to report to him is positively laughable.
No one here’s laughing, though.
“Congratulations,” I say to Andrew, but it’s an empty commendation. He knows I don’t think he deserves it.
As if he can tell, Dad rises from his seat and goes to stand beside Andrew, patting him twice on the back like a child who’s just won a football match. Guess someone has to be happy for him, because it certainly won’t be me or Edith.
Andrew straightens, arms dropping to his sides. He even puffs out his chest. “I’ll be making some changes when I take over,” he says, but I don’t understand why he’s directing it at me.
I nod, my smile pacifying. “As is your right.”
“And one of those changes is that A.P. Maxwell International will no longer be a sponsor of the McMorris Formula 1 Team.”
I stare at my brother, unsure I’ve heard him correctly. There’s no way I could have. There’s no way he would take this away from me.
Without that sponsorship, without thatmoney, I’m not worth much in the world of Formula 1. In fact, some people might go so far as to call me a pay driver. And while I’mverygood at what I do, I’m still not the best of the best. On my own, with just my talent and smaller sponsors behind me, I might not be enough to warrant one of the twenty coveted spots on the grid. I know that. And Andrew knows it too, because he tried to get there with the same resources, only to fail. It was my talent that got me through to my first F1 season—but is it enough to keep me there five years in?
My heart stops dead for a second before restarting. “Excuse me?”
I need him to repeat himself. He has to look me dead in my fucking eyes and say that again so that I know without a doubt he’s doing this to me.
“Our resources are better spent elsewhere,” he explains, but none of this is makingsense. “We’re not seeing the return on our investment that we hoped when it came to our backing of the team. I’m sure you understand. And besides, Thomas, it’s not a good look for us to be sponsoring a driver who wishes death upon his opponents. I mean, come on. You screwed yourself there.”
There’s a ringing in my ears that starts quietly and builds. It’s shrill and screaming, drowning out everything else Andrew’s saying. My eyes drift to Edith, taking in the hard set to her eyes. She knows what this means for me. She knows what I’ve just lost, and I can see the same in her.
We’ve both had our futures ruined in one fell swoop.
My father comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder, meant to soothe, but it’s another weight pushing me down. “You’re a great driver, Thomas. They may want to keep you even without our backing.”
I already know they won’t. I already know exactly who’s coming for my seat.
And I already know this is where my dreams end.
Chapter 21
Stella
“I’m making you a dress and that’s that.”
I put my hands up, not about to argue with Calais’s offer to design a dress for me to wear to Zaid Yousef’s upcoming gala. It’s on top of the wedding gown she’s creating—one that I won’t be wearing if Thomas and I officially split up before then—but she seems more than happy to have the extra work.
We’ve been talking fashion and the woes of running our own businesses ever since Figgy dragged Thomas away. Calais strolled around the corner a moment later, then looped her arm through mine and escorted me to one of the many sitting rooms to chat with her and Geneva.
