Charles Leclerc sat there, mouth slightly agape, trying to formulate a rebuttal. He cycled through various arguments in his head, rejected them all, and finally slumped his shoulders in defeat.
He realized Kai was right. The "Silly Season" games had begun, and whether they liked it or not, they were players on the board.
"But wait!" Charles suddenly straightened up. "Strategy is one thing, but there has to be some truth behind it, right? If it was just a mind game, Toto could have targeted Sebastian or Max. But he didn't. He called you."
Charles gasped, the realization hitting him. "If Toto genuinely invited you to Mercedes... would you go?"
Kai's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Do you want me to go, or do you want me to stay?"
Charles groaned, burying his hands in his hair and rocking back and forth like a machine about to overheat.
Kai laughed and pressed the imaginary pause button on the distressed Monegasque. "No, I have no such intention. At least, not right now."
Charles stopped rocking and looked up. "Really?"
"If he offered me a hundred million a year, I'd sign immediately—" Kai saw Charles roll his eyes and quickly pivoted. "But they aren't offering that. The situation is simple: the Ferrari is currently on par with the Mercedes. We have a genuine shot at the world championship. If Toto didn't feel threatened, he wouldn't be playing these games. So, I see no reason to leave."
Besides, the internal politics Kai faced at Ferrari would likely be replicated at Mercedes. Swapping red for silver wouldn't change the nature of the beast. If Kai truly threatened Hamilton's throne, the dynamic would devolve just as it had with Rosberg.
Charles nodded slowly. Ferrari was close.
"I thought you were going to say you were staying for Mr. Marchionne," Charles said quietly.
Kai's smile softened, his voice dropping an octave. "That too. I haven't forgotten our promise."
Charles, who hadn't been in Milan for that final conversation, looked confused. "What promise?"
Just as Kai was about to answer, a phone rang loudly. It wasn't Kai's.
Charles jumped up. "Phone? Where did I put my phone?"
He followed the noise, finding it on the floor next to the simulator rig. The moment he answered, Lando Norris's voice exploded through the speaker.
"What the hell are you two doing?! You said one more round! We've been waiting in the lobby for ages! Hurry up, or Max is going to start racing against the AI!"
Like a typhoon passing through, Lando delivered his payload of complaints and hung up before Charles could get a word in.
Charles scratched his head, looking torn. After discussing the heavy political storm of the paddock, going back to play Mario Kart seemed trivial.
Kai, however, was already moving. "Since they are desperate to taste defeat, let's make sure they lose their appetite for dinner."
"Pfft." Charles couldn't help but laugh. Kai's ability to switch from serious analysis to carefree gaming was infectious. "They asked for it sincerely. It would be rude to refuse our lovely friends."
Ding.
In a meeting room miles away, Nicolas Todt received a text. He glanced at his phone screen discreetly.
Nick, Toto just called with an informal invite. I said no.
One sentence. Concise. Explosive.
Nicolas immediately went into high alert. The storm was coming.
Displaying his trademark professionalism, Nicolas made a split-second decision. He didn't contact Maurizio Arrivabene. Instead, he messaged Silvia Frangipane.
Silvia controlled the narrative. More importantly, she was loyal to the team and to the truth. She would ensure the information reached the right ears without being twisted.
Since Kai had already rejected Wolff, Nicolas couldn't let that loyalty go to waste. He needed Ferrari to see Kai's commitment. He needed to leverage this integrity for Kai's benefit.
Toto Wolff's timing was actually perfect.
Nicolas had been busy this summer. Outsiders didn't know the specific clauses in Kai's contract: If Kai failed to score points in the first 10 races, Ferrari could terminate. But if he scored 50 points or 5 podiums, Ferrari was obligated to open renewal talks.
Kai had four wins. He was neck-and-neck with Hamilton. He had nearly 200 points. He was blowing expectations out of the water.
Nicolas had started renewal talks months ago, even before Marchionne's surgery. But with Arrivabene unwilling to change the driver hierarchy and Marchionne unable to micromanage every detail, negotiations had stalled. Now, with the power vacuum at the top, things were in a deadlock.
Toto's interference was the crowbar Nicolas needed. It demonstrated Kai's market value and his loyalty.
Was Mercedes serious? It didn't matter. If the news leaked immediately, it was a mind game. If it stayed quiet, it was a genuine poaching attempt. Either way, Nicolas was ready to play.
But he wasn't the only one making moves.
Six hours later? Maybe eight?
BREAKING: Mercedes in secret contact with Kai Zhizhou! Toto Wolff considers the Chinese prodigy the perfect choice for 2019.
RUMOR: Kai considering shock switch as Mercedes offers 'unrefusable' proposal.
The news hit the internet in the middle of the night.
It was exactly as Nicolas expected. A single drop of water falling into a pan of hot oil.
Boom.
The social media landscape, already fragile from the uncertain atmosphere, detonated.
The Tifosi went into a meltdown, unable to comprehend that their homegrown talent might defect to the enemy. Mercedes fans, who had just spent the last week villifying Kai, were suddenly confused—was he the villain or the savior?
The chaos fed on itself. Conspiracy theories flourished. Some praised Kai for looking out for his future amidst Ferrari's instability; others called him a traitor before the ink was even dry on the rumor.
The instability at Maranello worsened. Rumors swirled that technical directors were resigning, that Arrivabene was taking his clique to Haas, and that Arrivabene was actually planning to replace Kai with Charles Leclerc, which was why Kai was talking to Mercedes.
"I didn't! I wouldn't! Seriously!" Charles stared at his phone like it was a grenade, tossing it onto the sofa.
Kai remained calm. "The phone is innocent. Don't smash the furniture."
"Kai, I haven't spoken to Maurizio! Nick can testify! It's fake news!" Charles was sweating.
"Charles, relax. It's the Silly Season."
Charles exhaled a long breath, wiping sweat from his forehead. He bent over, hands on his knees, and started laughing hysterically. "I finally get what you mean. Wow. Toto. He's really playing 4D chess."
"Truth and lies mixed together," Kai nodded. "And he's not the only fox in the woods. But Charles, listen to me. If Maurizio does call you... answer it. Don't miss your shot."
"Do you believe that?"
"I believe that no matter what car we drive, I can beat you."
Charles rolled his eyes. "Ha. Ha. Very funny." He kicked Kai lightly in the shin. "I'd smoke you, easy."
The storm didn't stop. It accelerated.
Just as the Mercedes rumor began to plateau, another bomb dropped. A nuclear one.
BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo signs with Renault for 2019.
The collective brain of the F1 world short-circuited.
Daniel Ricciardo. The Honey Badger. The man groomed to be the next Red Bull champion. The man who had carried the team through its darkest hybrid-era days.
Moving to Renault? The engine supplier Red Bull had spent years publicly trash-talking?
It was the F1 equivalent of Luis Figo moving from Barcelona to Real Madrid, but with more confusion.
Christian Horner was blindsided. He had believed until the last second that Daniel was re-signing. He had even kicked the Netflix Drive to Survive crew out of his house when he got the call, too furious to be filmed.
Kai heard about the fallout from Pierre Gasly.
With a seat open at Red Bull, the Toro Rosso and Red Bull Junior drivers were circling like sharks. Gasly was ecstatic.
"Did Daniel tell you?" Gasly asked Kai, eyes wide.
"No," Kai admitted. "I thought he'd stay."
Kai looked at the excited Gasly. "Are you sure you want that seat? It looks like a fire pit."
"A fire pit? Why?" Gasly was confused. "Because of Max?"
"No. Because of Helmut Marko and Christian Horner. If Daniel is choosing to leave, it means the internal environment is toxic. But..." Kai saw Gasly's face. "Never mind. You have to take the shot."
"I'm going for it!" Gasly pumped his fist. "Simulator! Now! I'll take you all on!"
Before the dust could settle on the Ricciardo news, the next domino fell.
OFFICIAL: Lawrence Stroll leads consortium to buy Force India.
The team was saved. They would race at Spa.
But the implications were massive. Lawrence Stroll's money leaving Williams meant the historic British team was in grave danger. Lance Stroll would inevitably move to Force India (soon to be Racing Point), displacing either Perez or Ocon.
The F2 "Golden Class"—Russell, Norris, Albon—watched with hungry eyes. The grid was shifting. Seats were opening up at McLaren, Williams, Toro Rosso, and potentially Haas.
It was total war.
"Nick? Oh god, you came personally. Is it that bad?"
Charles opened the door to find Nicolas Todt standing there. His heart rate spiked. He thought the political hammer was about to drop.
Nicolas smiled, ignoring the panic, and lifted two large grocery bags. "Kai said the fridge was empty. I was in the area."
"Nick?" Charles blinked, confused.
"Relax. I do domestic chores occasionally. Besides, I trust myself more than you. I heard you almost burned the kitchen down trying to fry an egg."
"It was the stove's fault!" Charles protested.
Nicolas unpacked the groceries with practiced efficiency, placing them into a fridge that was surprisingly organized—thanks to Kai.
Nicolas walked into the living room. Kai was just climbing out of the simulator, studying telemetry data with a frown.
"Not satisfied?" Nicolas asked.
"The sim is good, but the data from last year doesn't quite match the tire degradation model," Kai muttered, then looked up. "Oh, hey Nick. What's the crisis?"
"Can't I just visit?" Nicolas laughed. "And if there was a crisis, would you be this calm?"
"Our war is on the track," Kai shrugged. "Politics is above my pay grade. Worst case scenario, I get a new job. I was just discussing university life with friends."
Nicolas grinned. "I don't know about university, but I know you won't surrender."
"Correct. So, what's the situation?"
Nicolas hesitated, glancing at Charles.
"Oh! I... uh... I have to go do that... thing," Charles stammered, turning to leave.
"It's about the topic we discussed?" Kai asked Nicolas. "If so, Charles should know. Nick, trust me. He can handle it."
Nicolas looked at Kai, then at the anxious Charles. He sighed.
"Charles, sit down. This concerns you directly."
Charles froze.
"But... it's not good news. You need to prepare yourself."
The two young drivers sat in the armchairs, exchanging a look. Kai nodded encouragingly.
Nicolas took a breath.
"The situation inside Ferrari is critical. Before his surgery, Sergio Marchionne had a blueprint. A succession plan. But he died before it could be implemented. Now, the pro-Marchionne faction is pushing for his plan, but the old guard is resisting."
"This isn't just about winning or losing an argument. It's a trade. We sacrifice some interests to gain others. It's a stalemate."
"A new CEO and Chairman will be appointed before Monza—likely Louis Camilleri and John Elkann. But even then, the chaos won't stop immediately."
"It's a capital game."
"The second half of the season is going to be incredibly difficult. Politically and sportingly."
Toto Wolff's move had been brilliant. He had struck exactly when Ferrari was leaderless and divided. Mercedes had the initiative.