CHAPTER 590: CONTINGENCY

Despite every unsaid word and the queasy atmosphere throughout the visit, it still turned out to be a special afternoon, maybe the best Trampos had experienced in a long while.

And by "Trampos," that referred to the ones who had been there from day one.

The visitants were appreciated by the newer members, of course, but only in the sense of civility. They lacked the deep-rooted sentiment the others had.

Truly, none of them could understand how it felt to see and touch Martin.

The baby was a living piece of Ansel. Although he really looked like his mother, he had the vibe and flavour of his father.

Victor laughed and said he’d grow up to be a lady’s boy: cruel, strict, and charming.

Luca couldn’t deny that.

Ansel had always been the stolid, unemotional type, and if sons were magnitudes of their fathers, then Martin might well become a little dictator reborn.

When he was being passed from one arm to another, everyone eager to take photos with him, the boy’s face stayed in a flat frown, as if he were silently assessing these adults as his subjects and finding them beneath his notice.

He wore an oversized Trampos shirt throughout the day, the sleeves swallowing his arms, but he looked every bit the heir to a legend.

Ansel’s memorial in the accolades room wasn’t visited because everyone was wise enough to know it might make Laura uncomfortable.

And so, that was how the day ended.

The trio left happily. Luca felt fulfilled that he was just doing exactly as he had promised in keeping his late friend’s legacy alive.

Since Martin hadn’t cried once, it was considered good mood, too.

However, Laura was more complex.

Truth be told, the young woman didn’t give a single damn whether she came to Trampos or not.

The love and care that the team showered, the legacy upheld, the camaraderie—they were all touching, yes, but none of it truly mattered to her.

Her only purpose was to spend time with Luca. Any setting and any scenery would do.

Since she got to be near him throughout the day, sharing the same moments, she was happy.

By late five in the evening, they returned to the house.

Being thoughtful, Luca offered Laura to stay another night.

Martin was sleepy, he himself needed to review some data, and he also wasn’t in the mood for the long drive back to Grunewald.

Of course, this offer made Laura even happier.

That night, she cooked another wonderful meal, so rich in flavor that Luca couldn’t remember ever tasting anything quite like it.

He found himself wondering where Laura had learned to cook like that.

Usually, girls as stunning as her in the modern world couldn’t cook at all. It was rare, and frankly, impressive.

Before going to bed that night, Luca received two phone calls.

The first was from Margot, and he answered it while lifting the framed photo of him and Ansel back into position.

Somehow, it had fallen face down.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s tone wasn’t quippy, which meant she wasn’t in the best of moods.

The news she was giving him wasn’t something to be gleeful about.

"The gathering has been postponed," she said gravely, as if it were the most momentous announcement Luca could ever receive.

When she said the words, Luca waited for more, but that was all.

If the gathering had been postponed, then when was the new date?

Luca didn’t trust Mrs. Hawthorne’s later answer of it being in summer. It sounded uncertain, like a butler had just whispered the alternative into her ear at that very moment.

Summer didn’t seem bad or too far off, it was just a couple of weeks away, if not here already, as Luca could feel the air thickening with humidity.

Still, he had really wanted to attend the gathering now.

He’d been looking forward to getting back to the UK, and that event was the perfect way to start off when one returns.

Even though he knew she wouldn’t tell him, Luca still asked why the shift.

Margot paused before answering that it was due to a government investigation. She couldn’t hold a grand gathering while under scrutiny, as it would make her empire look like a party in crisis.

The reason sounded like something Mrs. Hawthorne would normally find amusing, perhaps even laugh at and say "their problem!"—if Luca trusted his instincts.

That only made him feel there was more to the postponement than she let on.

The old lady would most likely spill everything in person, so Luca chose to be patient.

This sudden change of events made him look ahead, and now, the Brazilian GP was in his sights.

The second call that night was from Isabella, a video call, with both of them seeing each other.

Luca was a little surprised when she immediately asked the exact day he was coming to London.

Apparently, she already knew something about the gathering, or at least that he was supposed to come, but not the reason behind it.

It was unfortunate, but he still had to tell her it had been postponed to a later date.

Isabella took the news calmly, though since it was a video call, she couldn’t hide her visible letdown the way she might have during a normal phone call.

Luca felt bad, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He listened attentively as the girl talked about everything that had happened so far in the second half of her semester.

Fortunately, Luca was good at listening. He had trained his ears with Sophia for eighteen years and clearly had a degree in it.

The call ended sweetly, though Isabella couldn’t help feeling slightly sour afterward.

She was seated at a café opposite her lodge, her laptop open with work files scattered across the screen.

A soft sigh left her lips as a cold breeze drifted in when the door opened, the counter girl waving cheerfully to a couple that entered.

Setting her phone down, Isabella began to doubt herself and Luca.

For the first time ever, Isabella didn’t have faith in their relationship.

The last time she’d doubted them was only a prelude; now it felt real, heavy, and frightening.

She still carried every ounce of feeling she’d ever had for Luca, but for once, she wanted to start thinking logically.

And her logic told her something bitter—that she was a liability to the Formula One driver.

Isabella feared Luca could drop her anytime he wished, just like the counter girl had casually tossed a piece of wrapper into the dustbin.

He held all the power between them now, and that made her feel exposed in every way. If he ever stopped seeing worth in her, she wasn’t sure she’d recover emotionally, physically, or even mentally.

Picking up her phone again, she scrolled to the unanswered DMs she’d been ignoring.

Maybe it was time to start making space for secondary options, some sort of emotional contingency.

But Isabella didn’t like any of the men in her inbox. They were all the same—hungry, lustful, and desperate for association.

None of them cared about companionship, love, or building something meaningful. What they wanted was to say they’d bedded Luca Rennick’s girlfriend.

Being an F1 driver’s partner had dressed Isabella in a weird cloak of value. Even though she wasn’t the most beautiful or curvaceous woman, this particular status had made her desirable.

And that was the problem.

Every man chasing her was only after the thrill of taking what belonged to a successful man, not her as a person.

Isabella could sense it immediately, and it made her sick.

"Ugh."

Groaning, she buried her face in her palms before the screen, feeling like her brain might explode from the sheer strain she had put it through so far this week.