Five days later.

Five days after the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, Luca was back in Germany, quietly seated in his living room with a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

Seated before the television, he was watching a nature documentary airing on National Geographic Wild.

The program followed a peculiar story about an adult male leopard—fully grown, yet still living with his aging mother deep in the savanna.

At his age, the leopard should've been hunting on his own, establishing his territory, but instead, he was still dependent, a burden that drained his mother's dwindling strength.

One of the narrators made a remark that the pair's downfall might not even come from the son's helplessness, but from an invading territorial male who'd soon find them, ending their fragile coexistence for good.

Luca couldn't help but agree with that.

But he wasn't directly watching the documentary.

He'd been switching between the F1 sports channel and this one repeatedly, mostly because of how incessantly annoying the ads were on the F1 broadcast.

The program on the racing channel was a post-race discussion—sit-down reviews with analysts and old legends breaking down the Saudi Grand Prix—but every two minutes, it was a fresh barrage of commercials. It was unbearable.

Eventually, the frustration made Luca's investment lean more toward this useless leopard's life than the very thing he had turned on the TV for in the first place.

At one point, he even found himself wondering how and when he'd visit the savannas to see one of these great animals himself!

Returning to the F1 channel after almost forgetting it existed, Luca prayed this time the segment would last longer before the next flood of ads hit.

On-screen was a woman he was familiar with, Ms. Harding, and two men he wasn't so familiar with, both seated beside her at the round studio desk.

They each had their own trivial takes on the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, dissecting pit calls and tire choices, but in a general sense, all three agreed it was one of the most chaotic and "awesome" races of the season so far.

Jimmy Damgaard's win was addressed as a triumph of survival—a man walking out of the battlefield while the wreckage smoldered behind him.

It was his second win of the season, and it appeared the strategic calls executed by Velocità throughout this ninth round were completely flawless from start to finish.

Not only had the team ensured their championship contention by firmly staying within the top five of the Constructors' Standings, but Jimmy Damgaard himself had now climbed to second place in the Drivers' Championship just below Luca.

Not Ailbeart Moireach, not Antonio Luigi, but Jimmy Damgaard, the Norwegian Brute, was the one closest to the throne upon which Luca sat.

PROVISIONAL DRIVER'S CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP10)

Position | Team | Points

-------------------------------------

1. | Luca Rennick | 164

2. | Jimmy Damgaard | 147 ↑

3. | Ailbeart Moireach | 139 ↓

4. | Antonio Luigi | 116

5. | Luis Dreyer | 91

6. | Marko Ignatova | 70

7. | Buoso Di Renzo | 42

8. | Elias Nyström | 37

9. | Denko Rutherford | 30

10. | Albert Derstappen | 24 ↑

Luca knew he could only blame himself for this new development that seemed fashioned to dethrone him.

He hadn't exactly been performing at his absolute best in the last three races, and now, with his first DNF of the season, he had handed his rivals an open target.

But on the TV, the analysts were saying quite the opposite about his performance.

All three were glorifying his drive in Riyadh, calling it a masterclass of divine F1 racing—an exhibition of grit and elegance they hoped to see replicated by every driver.

Ms. Harding even remarked that the only non-spectacular thing about that crash was Luigi breaking the rhythm of Rennick's brilliance!

And it seemed this new nickname, Phoenix, or sometimes Firewalker, was here to stay.

Luca was now the only driver in F1 history to have quite literally walked both into and out of fire, a strange accomplishment when one truly thought about it.

As much praise as Luca received for surviving that fiery crash, an equal measure of backlash landed squarely on Antonio Luigi's shoulders.

He was regarded as the architect of the collision, and though his die-hard fans defended him fiercely, most neutral voices agreed that the reigning world champion had been at fault.

Many even urged the FIA stewards to take stricter action toward the man.

Luca, however, felt more pity than anger for his rival.

The incident had dragged both of them to zero points, but it was Luigi who took the heavier blow, his title defense suffering a major dent.

Still, Luca couldn't hide his frustration that it was yet another round gone, and Trampos remained stuck in second place in the Constructors' Standings, unable to finally overthrow Squadra Corse.

The analytic trio resumed their discussion after yet another barrage of ads, diving deeper into the aftermath of Riyadh; from strategic missteps to driver psychology and team dynamics.

Then, finally, the broadcast shifted to the headline Luca had been waiting for.

"JACKSON RACING TERMINATES TEAM PRINCIPAL CONNOR MATTHEWS AND HIS ENTIRE ADMINISTRATION."

"Damn."

That was all Luca could say. The news still sounded as fresh to his ears as it had two days ago.

"Interim leadership confirmed at Jackson Racing — Chief Head Engineer David Berry to assume acting Team Principal role."

"Former Race Director, Alina Drew, returns temporarily as Sporting Head to stabilize weekend operations."

"Jackson Racing announces internal restructuring — focus on restoring technical consistency before appointing new management."

Luca had heard that Mr. Matthews was dismissed coldly. One moment he was enjoying a quiet morning like Luca was now, and the next, a phone call told him he was done.

No explanations. Just the end.

It was brutal to hear, especially for Luca, who had once driven under that very administration.

He remembered the team's rhythm back then—the energy, the formality, and the reliability.

If it were up to him, Luca would've stood up for the man. He would've said openly that Matthews' management was solid.

It was literally the administration that had brought Jackson Racing their last title!

But that would've been a biased statement now, and Luca knew it. The truth was hard to ignore: Jackson Racing was a mess.

He and Rodnick had left the former champions bare and exposed, open to the feast of the vultures of mediocrity.

Jackson Racing was no longer the powerhouse they once were.

Since the departure of the two giants they once had, the team had taken a clear dip. Where's that coordination of theirs? That spark and aura they had? Where has the confidence of the Silver Stallions gone?!

It had all drained away like fuel from a leaking tank.

Even though their machines were still finely tuned and sharpened by the best of Ferrari engineering, the trauma of loss seemed to have done more harm than any technical flaw could.

And no one would be feeling the loss more than the man behind the plans and strategy, the team principal who once commanded one of the best driver lineups the grid had ever seen.

It seemed Jackson Racing's upper board wanted a complete reset, a fresh administration that could better serve the current roster of drivers and restore control to a team that had lost its direction.

The DNFs were simply too much to endure; the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix marked Di Renzo's third retirement of the season, and Derstappen had already collected three himself!

For a team once synonymous with consistency, it was unacceptable!

Perhaps the shake-up would finally steer things toward recovery, bringing back some long-lost glow to the English motorsport community that had once taken so much pride in Jackson Racing's silver banner.

As things stood now, the battlefield was only about the German and Italian communities.

~flick!

As another annoying ad cracked on, Luca sighed and switched back to the NatGeo channel, returning to the dumbest leopard ever.

Tilting his head slightly, he thought he heard the faint buzz of his phone ringing from across the room.

He rose, crossed the living area, and reached the kitchen counter where he'd dropped it earlier.

The ringing stopped once he picked it up.

"Eleven missed calls?" Luca exclaimed.

Eleven missed calls was nothing new for Luca. He was very notorious for ignoring his phone. The problem was the caller.

It was Laura. And Luca was taken aback.

A faint worry pricked him as he feared something might've happened to her baby, so he immediately tried calling back.

But the call rang forever, and there was no answer.

Frowning, Luca waited for a moment before trying again, but he was met with the same result.

Letting out a long sigh, he stared at the phone, wondering if this was some kind of sign that he should just go visit the family in person.

For Laura to call eleven times, there must be something serious going on.

But after thinking it over, Luca decided to call Simon or Ester instead. From them, he would get to know if something was wrong.