Heading into the 2019 season, Force India wasn't the only team in the paddock undergoing a massive, earth-shattering transformation. There was also—
Sauber.
For the past two seasons, Sauber had been trapped in a state of constant turmoil and chaos. Their parent company had gone through ownership changes, restructuring, and endless financial instability. Deep divisions within the board of directors and a lack of clear direction in technical R&D had plagued them relentlessly. At one point, they had even actively tried to sever their ties with Ferrari and find a new engine partner. Ultimately, however, the partnership survived.
The 2018 season had delivered a small, highly pleasant surprise for Sauber. Charles Leclerc's undeniable talent on the track had repeatedly shattered the perceived limits of their car.
By the end of the year, they had managed to defeat Toro Rosso and Williams, finishing eighth in the Constructors' Championship. They were a mere four points behind seventh-place Force India.
Did this mean the Sauber chassis still held untapped potential? That they weren't just fighting for seventh, but potentially had the capacity to challenge for sixth, or even fifth?
Now, Sauber had finally decided to take a massive step forward. They accepted a comprehensive, full-title sponsorship deal from Alfa Romeo, the iconic Italian automotive brand operating under the Fiat Chrysler Group umbrella.
The core operational team remained completely intact—the engines, the design department, the mechanics, the staff. Sauber and Alfa Romeo were launching a fully integrated, comprehensive partnership. However, the name "Sauber" officially became a relic of the past. After entering Formula 1 as an independent privateer team in 1993, Sauber was finally bowing out of the sport after exactly twenty-five years.
This meant Williams was now officially the absolute last, most resilient, and most stubborn independent privateer team left standing, acting as a solitary flag planted in a paddock utterly dominated by corporate conglomerates.
In the 2019 season, there would be no more Sauber. In its place would be the Alfa Romeo Racing team.
It was just a name, but it meant far, far more than just a name. It didn't just mean Sauber was receiving an injection of capital from Alfa Romeo; it signified that the team's relationship with Ferrari had evolved to a completely different level. Both Alfa Romeo and Ferrari were wholly owned subsidiaries of the Fiat Chrysler Group. Their dynamic was now fundamentally identical to the relationship between Red Bull Racing and Toro Rosso.
Even though they were technically independent teams with independent operations, and even though they ostensibly competed against each other on the track... if Adrian Newey and Helmut Marko happened to take a casual "tour" of the Toro Rosso factory, offered absolutely zero official technical guidance, but casually mentioned over coffee, "That aerodynamic piece looks a little strange," or "I really love the concept behind that design," and suddenly the Toro Rosso technical team experienced a miraculous "burst of inspiration" leading to a massive breakthrough in their car's R&D... the FIA couldn't exactly accuse them of violating the rules.
The exact same loophole now applied to Ferrari and Alfa Romeo.
And it went deeper than that. Toro Rosso was explicitly designed as the incubator for Red Bull's young talent. Sebastian Vettel, Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo—before they ever earned a seat at Red Bull, they had all been forged in the fires of Toro Rosso.
Without a doubt, that exact same operational model could now be seamlessly applied to Ferrari and Alfa Romeo.
This specific maneuver could easily be viewed as the most critical, most audacious move John Elkann had made since taking control of Ferrari.
He hadn't just transformed Sauber into Ferrari's 'B-team.' He had built upon Sergio Marchionne's foundation, taking it a massive step further by directly integrating the Ferrari Driver Academy into the actual F1 grid. Sauber's role had shifted from the shadows into the blinding light of day. Moving forward, Alfa Romeo was perfectly positioned to become the official cradle for Ferrari's future World Champions.
And then—
Antonio Giovinazzi signed with Alfa Romeo.
Any true, veteran paddock insider could instantly see that this was a political "transaction."
One could easily imagine that for the ultra-conservative, traditionalist faction within Ferrari, signing Charles Leclerc to the main team was viewed as an absolute disaster. It wasn't a personal attack on Leclerc; it was about fiercely protecting Ferrari's "traditions" and "glory."
First, there was the tradition of only hiring established World Champions (or at least highly experienced veterans).
Second, there was the deeply ingrained desire to have an Italian driver piloting the Italian national pride.
Leclerc's signing shattered both of those sacred pillars simultaneously. Whether it was the conservatives terrified of pairing two young drivers together, or the traditionalists desperate to see an Italian driver back on the F1 grid, they were all deeply agitated. Even if Elkann wanted to push Marchionne's blueprint forward, appeasing them wasn't going to be easy.
And thus, this exact scenario materialized.
Alfa Romeo partnered with Sauber, and Giovinazzi finally secured a full-time F1 seat. Elkann had not only provided a beacon of hope for the renaissance of Italian motorsport, but he had simultaneously ignited the potential of the Ferrari youth system. By executing this specific maneuver, he managed to satisfy the demands of the warring factions, finally finding a delicate equilibrium within the board of directors.
Perhaps casual fans were simply curious to see if Giovinazzi—the former "Prince of Ferrari" who had languished on the sidelines for years—could finally live up to his potential.
But for the paddock insiders, it was clear that Elkann was playing a massive, multi-dimensional game of chess. No one was certain if he possessed the capability to surpass Marchionne, but there was no doubt Elkann was rolling up his sleeves and preparing for a massive war.
On the surface, the paddock was boiling with loud, chaotic drama. But beneath the surface, tectonic plates were shifting, stars were realigning, and the storm brewing within Ferrari far exceeded anyone's wildest imagination.
While Ferrari stood at the crossroads of turmoil and chaos, Sebastian Vettel was simultaneously facing the most monumental decision of his life.
For Vettel, Ferrari had always been the ultimate dream. The phrase "childhood Ferrari dream" wasn't just empty PR spin. He had grown up worshipping Michael Schumacher, desperately longing to one day wear the iconic red race suit. More than anything, Vettel genuinely wanted to drive a Ferrari to a World Championship and end his career in Maranello.
He truly did not want to leave.
However, reality is often brutally cruel, and the paddock is certainly not a fairy tale.
Despite the intense internal struggle and profound agony, Vettel ultimately made his decision. He loved Ferrari, yes. But he hungered even more to prove his absolute capability.
He was desperate to carve his own, undeniable legacy into the annals of F1 history. He refused to let his World Championship tally remain stuck at 'four'. He absolutely refused to accept the narrative that he had only won those titles because he was driving a vastly superior rocket ship.
Therefore, he was embarking on a brand new journey. He was launching a new adventure, preparing to mount one final, desperate charge for the Drivers' World Championship. He was fighting for the ultimate legacy of his career.
Obviously, Red Bull remained Vettel's primary target—
First and foremost, he required a car demonstrably capable of fighting for a championship. In the current paddock, the options that fit that description were incredibly limited.
Secondly, he required a team that implicitly trusted his abilities.
That Red Bull immediately sprang to Vettel's mind was practically a given.
Regarding this potential reunion, Helmut Marko raised both hands and both feet in absolute, joyous approval. Before Max Verstappen exploded onto the scene, Vettel had always been the apple of Marko's eye—the undisputed, undeniable Golden Boy of Red Bull. To this day, the two maintained frequent, private communication. Their relationship, existing somewhere between mentor and student, and close friends, couldn't be accurately summarized in just a few words.
However, Christian Horner flatly refused. Currently, managing just one Verstappen was already giving Horner a massive, daily migraine. His actual control over the team was already severely compromised. If they added a returning Vettel to the mix, Horner would essentially be stripped of all remaining power and reduced to a complete figurehead. That was the absolute last scenario Horner wanted to see.
Horner didn't mind the idea of Vettel going to Toro Rosso. But Vettel obviously refused. He needed a championship-contending car, not just a random seat to pad his stats. For Vettel, being relegated to Toro Rosso would be infinitely more insulting than accepting a subservient, "retirement" contract at Ferrari.
Consequently, the internal power struggle at Red Bull escalated: Marko aggressively pushed for Vettel, while Horner aggressively pushed for Kai.
As a result, with Kai's situation remaining highly ambiguous, the Thai faction of Red Bull opted to wait and see. They were unwilling to stick their necks out and take a massive risk to support Horner against the Austrian faction without a guaranteed return. This left Horner completely isolated, fighting a desperate, multi-front war with zero backup.
Simultaneously, Vettel refused to just sit around waiting to die. He refused to put all his eggs in one basket. He understood the delicate, precarious balance of power within Red Bull perfectly well—especially the fact that orchestrating a triumphant return years after abandoning them was never going to be simple.
Therefore, Vettel turned his gaze toward the only other team currently possessing a championship-caliber car—
Mercedes-Benz.
To be precise, Vettel didn't actively initiate the assault; he simply accepted the olive branch that Mercedes-Benz casually extended toward him.
Straddling the 'Big Three' teams, Vettel was executing a phenomenal, high-wire juggling act. Regardless of how the negotiations ultimately concluded, it definitively proved one absolute fact:
Within the paddock, Vettel still possessed undeniable, supreme gravity. Even the absolute titans of the sport couldn't afford to ignore his existence. Regardless of how history might eventually judge him, right here, right now, four-time World Champion Sebastian Vettel remained a towering entity at the absolute apex of the paddock pyramid.
Ferrari. Red Bull. And finally, Mercedes-Benz. Even without an agent pulling strings behind the scenes, Vettel effortlessly navigated the highest echelons of the sport on his own terms.
The negotiations between Vettel and Mercedes-Benz... proceeded surprisingly smoothly. In fact, they progressed far faster than anyone could have imagined.
Even though Mercedes was currently acting like a circus clown juggling five different balls in the air simultaneously, they were clearly absolutely thrilled by the prospect of pairing two four-time World Champions together.
The two undisputed kings of the 2018 season, joining forces in 2019 to completely annihilate the surging, arrogant threat of Kai—who could possibly say no to a narrative like that?
Furthermore, from a pure brand value perspective, it was an absolute masterstroke. It would instantly detonate global market traffic and cement Mercedes-Benz as the undisputed center of the motorsport universe.
It was smooth sailing. The negotiations advanced rapidly into the final, critical stage of defining the exact salary figures. And then—
Toto Wolff stepped into the ring.
As the CEO and Team Principal, Wolff decisively and immovably stated his position: Reject. Reject. Absolutely, unequivocally reject. He used every single ounce of his power and authority to violently oppose signing Vettel.
The details of the closed-door meetings among Mercedes-Benz senior management remained unknown to the public. However, rumors leaked that Wolff had engaged in ferocious, explosive screaming matches with other top executives. The usually calm, hyper-rational Wolff had reportedly turned beet red, spitting venom and physically radiating absolute fury, bringing the board to the very brink of a complete rupture.
It proved that the Mercedes-Benz organization, which always projected the image of a perfectly unified, deeply loving family, was absolutely not the harmonious, unbreakable monolith they pretended to be.
The reasons behind Wolff's violent rejection of Vettel varied wildly depending on who you asked.
Some claimed it was to protect Hamilton. Some claimed Wolff fundamentally didn't believe Vettel was still an elite driver. Some claimed it was rooted in the bitter, historic grudges between Mercedes and Red Bull. And some claimed it was simply Wolff's own deeply ingrained personal bias.
Unfortunately, the true reason would likely remain a mystery forever, because Wolff flatly refused to address the rumors. Not only did he refuse to comment, but later on, Wolff categorically and entirely denied the event ever happened—
Mercedes-Benz had never contacted Sebastian Vettel. In other words, negotiations between Vettel and Mercedes-Benz had simply never taken place.
Period. End of story.
The entire incident was completely erased from existence. From top to bottom, the entire Mercedes-Benz organization reached an absolute consensus. It seemed Wolff had ultimately managed to brutally crush the internal rebellion and unify the narrative.
In the end, the official public stance was identical across the board. Every single executive, PR rep, and team employee repeated the exact same line:
This event never occurred.
That specific page of history was completely, ruthlessly torn out of the book.
Later, when journalists publicly asked Wolff for his opinion on Vettel, Wolff deployed his flawless, official PR speak. He praised Vettel to the heavens, his facial expression an absolute masterclass in acting, projecting the image of a man who had absolutely zero history or conflict with the driver in question. His words overflowed with glowing admiration, and not a single person dared to question Wolff's "sincerity."
However, even though Wolff had violently rejected Vettel joining the main Mercedes-Benz squad, that didn't mean Wolff completely dismissed Vettel's capabilities as a driver—
Who said Wolff and Horner weren't fundamentally the exact same breed of animal?
Just as Horner had offered Vettel a seat at Toro Rosso, Wolff orchestrated an offer for Vettel at a closely allied partner team.
Force India.
More accurately, the brand-new, reinvented iteration of Force India.
Not long after the 2018 season concluded, the FIA officially updated its registry, announcing that Force India had completed all necessary administrative procedures and officially changed its name. For the 2019 season, Lawrence Stroll's team would compete under the banner of "Racing Point." The name "Force India" had officially been relegated to the dustbin of history.
Wolff personally acted as the middleman, introducing Lawrence Stroll to Sebastian Vettel, strongly suggesting that the two parties sit down and engage in a friendly, constructive dialogue.
But was this normal?
Why on earth would Lawrence Stroll agree to this? Racing Point's driver lineup for 2019 was already locked in. Sergio Perez and Lance Stroll were both confirmed. One was the crucial mastermind who had actively facilitated Stroll's takeover of the team; the other was his own biological son. Kicking either of them to the curb to make room for someone else seemed entirely impossible.
And why on earth would Vettel agree to this? Force India had spent the entirety of 2018 trapped in a chaotic, agonizing financial meltdown, ultimately finishing a miserable seventh in the Constructors' Championship, a mere four points ahead of Sauber. A team in that state possessed absolutely zero capacity to fight for a World Championship. They couldn't even consistently fight for podiums. If that was his destination, why had he even bothered leaving Ferrari in the first place?
From every conceivable angle, it was impossible—and entirely unnecessary—for these two men to sit down and have a conversation, let alone form a working partnership.
Yet, this was the terrifying extent of Toto Wolff's political maneuvering.
Just as no one knew exactly why Wolff had withstood massive internal pressure to reject Vettel from Mercedes, no one knew exactly how Wolff managed to successfully persuade both Lawrence Stroll and Sebastian Vettel to come to the table.
And that wasn't the end of it.
Wolff didn't just convince them to formally meet; he played the critical architect role, forcing a series of key figures to visualize an entirely new, highly lucrative blueprint.
And then, the impossible happened—
Vettel's negotiations with Racing Point... were proceeding incredibly smoothly.
Although it was still in the active negotiation phase, and massive variables remained before the ink dried on a contract, this seemingly absurd, hallucination-level partnership was actually forming.
Vettel? Racing Point?
What... the actual hell?!
The news was kept under incredibly tight wraps. Not a single whisper leaked to the press. But the tiny handful of insiders who knew the truth were absolutely floored. Even witnessing it with their own eyes, they felt like they were trapped in a fever dream. Their brains simply couldn't process the logic. They couldn't fathom why Racing Point wanted Vettel, nor could they fathom why Vettel would ever choose Racing Point.
None of it made any logical sense.
Setting aside the utterly bizarre, incomprehensible reality of Vettel leaving Ferrari to join a midfield backmarker like Racing Point for a moment... what about Sergio Perez?
People always said that these elite, high-society capitalists flipped their loyalties faster than turning the page of a book, selectively remembering only the facts that benefited them and completely ignoring everything else. But surely Lawrence Stroll hadn't forgotten what happened just five months ago. Perez had actively backstabbed the former owner of Force India, Vijay Mallya, forcing the team into administration and paving the exact, pristine path required for Stroll's consortium to seize control. Simultaneously, Perez's actions had firmly cemented the alliance between Mercedes-Benz and the newly formed Racing Point, elevating their partnership to an entirely new level.
And now, with Mallya's metaphorical corpse barely cold, and the 2018 season having only just concluded, Lawrence Stroll was already impatiently preparing to throw Perez into the garbage?
Of course, to a vocal segment of fans, this was glorious news. They had always despised Perez's underhanded tactics, and they firmly believed Esteban Ocon was a vastly superior driver. Perez had essentially sold out his own team to secure his seat in the paddock, resulting in the highly talented Ocon being left without a drive for the upcoming season.
Therefore, Racing Point abandoning Perez felt like perfect, poetic karma. It wasn't just cosmic justice; it was the only morally correct choice.
But the brutal capitalist game of the F1 paddock did not operate on karma or morality.
Perez had performed an indispensable, monumental service to "buy" his F1 seat for the next season. Therefore, he absolutely owned that seat—unless, of course, another driver could provide Lawrence Stroll with a vastly superior, undeniably more lucrative set of benefits.
The focal point of the entire maneuver rested squarely on Toto Wolff.
No one knew exactly how Wolff pulled it off. No one knew the exact, convoluted web of favors and financial incentives he had traded. People could only see the final, shocking result—
Vettel's negotiations with Racing Point had entered the final stage. And Sergio Perez... was joining Williams.
During the summer break, Lawrence Stroll had abruptly pulled his massive financial backing from Williams, turning his back on them completely to acquire Force India and establish his own empire. For Williams, losing an $80 million lifeline overnight plunged the already struggling, independent privateer team into an absolute death spiral. You only had to look at Sauber's fate to understand the reality: F1 had long since evolved into an arms race of mega-corporations. The survival difficulty for independent teams was skyrocketing exponentially every single year.
Williams desperately needed capital. They desperately needed technical support. They needed massive, sustained backing in every conceivable area. Otherwise, their days in the paddock were severely numbered.
Without a doubt, Perez, backed by the immense financial artillery of his Mexican sponsors, was an incredibly valuable asset. How exactly Perez was convinced to accept the demotion, and what specific, multi-layered deals were struck between Mercedes-Benz, Racing Point, and Williams behind closed doors... outsiders would naturally never know. But the dominoes had fallen.
At the very least, looking at the final outcome, the suffocating pressure crushing Williams had been temporarily alleviated, granting them a brief window to breathe.
So, could this convoluted, chaotic reshuffle actually be considered a win-win scenario?
...
Up is down. Black is white. The universe had been completely flipped on its head.
Absolutely no one had predicted Vettel leaving Ferrari. And certainly no one had predicted that this single, solitary chess move would trigger a catastrophic chain reaction that fundamentally reshaped half the paddock.
Anything is possible.
This is the paddock. Driven by pure, naked self-interest. Beyond raw talent and driving ability, there are far heavier, more critical chips in play. Friends become enemies, betrayals morph into alliances—it's all just standard daily operation. Never, ever say "absolutely impossible."
Aside from self-interest, nothing in this world is eternal or unchanging.
Having passed through the Red Bull system and the Ferrari system, Vettel had now essentially entered the Mercedes-Benz sphere of influence. His resume was becoming just as rich and complex as Fernando Alonso's.
But... Racing Point?
Was this truly the correct choice? If it succeeded, it would undoubtedly be a monumental, earth-shattering achievement, a critical maneuver that completely rewrote the balance of power in the paddock. Vettel's name would truly be immortalized in history. But if it failed, it would likely be remembered as the monumentally stupid decision that saw Vettel personally destroy the remainder of his own career.
The truth was unknowable. Only time possessed the answer.
However, the chain reaction was only just beginning.
Vettel didn't go to Red Bull, completely shattering Helmut Marko's master plan. Now, Horner was scrambling to convince the Thai faction to intervene, desperately trying to suppress Marko and secure Kai's signature. He wanted to seize this golden opportunity to execute a total hostile takeover of Red Bull, crushing the Austrian faction, entirely restructuring the team's internal power dynamics, and completing a massive, foundational reshuffle.
But when Horner turned around, he realized he was already far too late.
While Vettel's chaotic maneuvering had hijacked the vast majority of the paddock's attention, John Elkann—who had remained terrifyingly focused and flawlessly maintained his own rhythm—had finally beaten Horner to the punch.
Inhale—Exhale—Inhale—
Mattia Binotto was actively regulating his breathing. On the surface, he projected an aura of total calm, but internally, he was desperately using breathing exercises to force his wildly hammering heart to stabilize.
This was infinitely more nerve-wracking than an F1 race. After all, engineering and car development were his areas of expertise. High-stakes contract negotiations and cutthroat corporate power plays were not. He was still incredibly green when it came to this arena.
Furthermore, this was his very first official appearance acting in his new capacity as Team Principal.
For a long time, Binotto had assumed it was simply a difference in title. He believed that, fundamentally, the role of Team Principal didn't differ vastly from that of Technical Director. However, only after actually sitting in the big chair did he realize the truth. It wasn't just the title, and it wasn't just the daily tasks—the sheer, crushing weight of the pressure was entirely different.
Exhale—
Letting out a soft breath, Binotto noticed a car slowly pulling into the VIP parking lot. He instantly recognized it as Nicholas Todt's vehicle.
Right now, the entirety of Maranello was composed of fanatical Kai supporters. Every single time Kai entered or exited the facility, his every movement was subjected to intense, microscopic scrutiny by the fans. Today was an incredibly critical occasion. To prevent any leaks or rumors, Nicholas was acting as the chauffeur, secretly smuggling Kai into the inner sanctum of the base.
Straightening his spine slightly, Binotto proactively stepped forward. He stood at an angle near the rear of the parked car, flashing a warm, genial smile as he looked toward the back door.
Click.
The door opened, and a figure stepped out. The welcoming greeting was already on the tip of Binotto's tongue, but the moment he saw the person's face, he swallowed the words entirely.
"...Lorenzo?" Binotto blinked rapidly, refusing to believe his own eyes. He instinctively leaned forward, peering into the backseat of the car, only to find it completely empty. "Where is Kai?"
Lorenzo stepped out of the car, planted his feet, and stretched his arms wide in a massive, exaggerated yawn. "Mattia, I am profoundly disappointed. I thought you would have at least prepared a small welcome speech for me."
Binotto looked exasperated. "You know that's not what I meant..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the sharp pop! of a party popper exploding echoed directly behind him. Binotto jumped in terror, instinctively shrinking his neck into his shoulders as a shower of confetti rained down.
Whirling around, Binotto saw a figure sprinting toward him. He was hunched over, practically tiptoeing, his eyes bright and mischievous, the smile on his face absolutely radiant.
Who else could it be but Kai?
"Congratulations! Congratulations, Mr. Team Principal!"
Kai was actually running circles around him, dancing, cheering, and laughing uproariously. It was an absolute riot.
Following Kai's lead, Lorenzo threw his hands in the air, grinning broadly and making bizarre, celebratory noises.
Binotto froze. He initially tried to rein in the chaos, still entirely unaccustomed to handling situations like this. But looking at the genuine, unfiltered joy dancing in Kai's eyes, the corners of his mouth eventually curved upwards. The rigid tension in his shoulders melted away. Feeling a mix of helplessness and profound gratitude, he ultimately decided against stopping Kai's impromptu celebration.
Up in the top-floor office, John Elkann stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down and quietly observing the scene unfold.
Setting aside absolutely everything else, just by demonstrating this specific psychological composure, Kai had already revealed the aura of a true, generational leader—
Nicholas had undoubtedly briefed Kai. They had come to the Ferrari base today for one specific purpose: to sign a blockbuster, earth-shattering contract that would shake the entire paddock to its core. A contract that would officially, undisputedly cement Kai as the absolute, dictatorial center of the Ferrari universe. This was a moment that could potentially alter the trajectory of the entire sport.
Look at Ferrari's response. They had mobilized their highest-ranking officials. Even Binotto himself had volunteered to go down to the parking garage to personally receive him, granting Kai a level of supreme reverence and status that was entirely unprecedented.
From top to bottom, everyone was incredibly tense and taking this with the utmost seriousness. Even Elkann was no exception, because he knew the monumental weight of this contract. It was going to be a defining turning point in his own career as well.
Yet... look at them. And then look at Kai.
When exactly had Kai secretly infiltrated the Ferrari base? How had he managed to execute a flawless stealth operation right under the noses of countless vigilant Tifosi?
And incredibly, he still had the mental bandwidth and the desire to orchestrate a surprise celebration? Today, he was the undisputed, absolute focal point of the universe. Yet, he still took the time and effort to explicitly celebrate Binotto's promotion?
That level of grace, that unshakeable mental fortitude... it was truly awe-inspiring.
So, was this just a calculated performance? Did Kai know Elkann was standing in the office above, looking down, and deliberately stage this little play for his benefit? Or was it a display of genuine, deeply rooted composure and relaxation? When the entire Ferrari organization, from the top executives to the lowest engineers, was standing at the crossroads of history, preparing to witness a monumental shift, was the protagonist truly this carefree and unbothered?
The critical point was this: if it was the former, it proved his cunning and audacity. If it was the latter, it proved his absolute, unshakeable courage. Whether it was the former or the latter, he was flawlessly demonstrating the true qualities of a transcendent leader.
The breath that Elkann had been holding, the tight, suffocating knot of tension and humiliation in his chest, finally, quietly, released.
Those who achieve true greatness do not get bogged down by trivialities. They know when to bow their heads and when to stand tall. They possess boundless ambition. This was what Elkann constantly told himself. He didn't mind admitting his own temporary defeat. He didn't mind pivoting his entire strategy to ruthlessly promote and elevate Kai. A true, supreme leader needed to possess exactly this kind of broad-minded vision, standing at the absolute zenith to control the overarching narrative. Yet, deep down, in a hidden, shadowy corner of his soul, he hadn't fully crossed that psychological hurdle. The inherent, stubborn pride of being the 'chosen one' had ultimately refused to truly bow its head.
Until now.
It wasn't just his transcendent talent on the asphalt. Elkann saw something fundamentally different in Kai. Something rare.
So, was this the unique, undefinable quality that Marchionne and Todt had recognized in him all along?
A tiny seed of genuine hope quietly began to sprout within Elkann's chest. For the first time, he found himself genuinely curious to see how the rest of this story would unfold.
Then, let them witness it together. Let them follow Kai's footsteps and march alongside him on this crusade. Let them see exactly what kind of future this "Captain"—the man personally anointed by Sergio Marchionne—could lead them to. Let them see exactly how high he could climb. A brand-new chapter for Ferrari, and for the entire paddock, was finally beginning.
Elkann turned away from the window and strode purposefully toward the door. He was done putting on airs and hiding behind a facade of aloof superiority—
If he was going to commit to this path, he had to commit fully. Half-assing it with whining, reluctance, and a bruised ego would ultimately guarantee failure.
A moment later, Louis Camilleri stared in utter bewilderment as Elkann personally reached out and opened the heavy office doors. Camilleri's head was full of question marks; before he could even begin to process what was happening, his field of vision was filled by a group of four people walking down the hall, chatting and laughing effortlessly. Subconsciously, everyone's gaze immediately gravitated toward a single figure.
That figure was the absolute protagonist of the day: Kai.
Elkann stepped forward proactively, offering a warm, genial greeting. "Good morning, Kai. It's wonderful to see you again."
A spark of playful intrigue danced in Kai's eyes. A bright smile broke across his face. "Good morning, Mr. Elkann. I truly didn't expect we'd be meeting again this quickly."
It was a single sentence, loaded with profound, unmistakable meaning.
The slight, teasing lilt at the end of the sentence. The brief, knowing flicker in his eyes. The firm, unapologetic handshake. But above all else, regardless of the words spoken or the subtle expressions, the most crucial element was his eyes. They looked back with open, direct candor, as if they could effortlessly pierce through any disguise and see the hypocrisy and petty calculations hiding beneath the mask.
Kai... was still incredibly difficult to deal with.
However, the Elkann standing here today was slightly different. He had already organized his thoughts and completely recalibrated his mentality. Even while bathing in Kai's piercing gaze, he remained perfectly stable.
"This isn't fast at all. If we had delayed any longer, the circumstances of our next meeting might have been entirely different." Like a meeting between the President of Ferrari and the star driver of Mercedes-Benz in the paddock? "My apologies. Please forgive my sluggishness. It has taken us until today to finally sit down together again."
This was the true definition of knowing when to bow and when to stand tall.
The Elkann standing before them was still the same Elkann. He still looked down upon the mortal realm from his lofty perch, dictating strategy and holding the power of life and death over tens of thousands of employees within the Fiat Group. Yet, he was completely different from the Elkann they had encountered in this very office during their last meeting. He was still confident, still poised, but the razor-sharp arrogance and unyielding, prickly pride embedded in his words had completely vanished.
Kai tilted his head slightly, evaluating him. This version of Elkann was a true heavyweight. The legitimate heir to the Fiat empire.
It seemed the impending partnership still had many brand-new chapters waiting to be written. Signing the contract didn't mean the story was over, and the outcome of this specific negotiation wasn't the final result. If Elkann had remained stubbornly arrogant and untouchably elitist, he actually would have been a much easier opponent to handle. But the Elkann standing here now—capable of swallowing his pride, adapting on the fly, and adjusting his posture instantly—was actively proving through his actions that he was infinitely more formidable than they had initially imagined.
Interesting. This was going to be highly anticipated.
The smile on Kai's lips widened into a full grin. "The timing is perfect. A little earlier, a little later... the situation could have indeed been vastly different. I think right now is absolutely perfect."
Elkann understood instantly. A glint of genuine appreciation flashed in his eyes. He didn't gloat, nor did he parade his victory. In a negotiation where Kai held every conceivable advantage and had finally achieved all his objectives, he had chosen to retract his claws. He was actively demonstrating his sincerity for the partnership, validating Ferrari's efforts and compromises. It was an incredibly sophisticated, classy move.
"Then that is absolutely perfect," Elkann replied smoothly. He stepped aside, offering an elegant gesture of invitation. "Please, come in."
Inside the sprawling office, the natural light and breathtaking panoramic view remained as stunning as ever. Camilleri, Mekies, Monfardini, and several other highly critical figures were all present.
It was a grand, formal reception.
With a single sweep of his eyes, Kai realized instantly: every single person in the room belonged to the technical faction. Or, viewed from another angle, they were all staunch loyalists of Sergio Marchionne.
Their presence here today carried two distinct, profound layers of meaning.
The first was a display of absolute respect and sincerity. Elkann was welcoming Kai with the highest possible honors, using physical actions to definitively confirm Kai's supreme status within the team.
The second, however, was a subtle, chilling threat. Every critical player Marchionne had hidden within the Ferrari organization had now surfaced, exposing themselves entirely to Elkann's scrutiny.
Now that these key figures had stepped out of the shadows into the light, it undeniably constituted a subtle threat. They had all exposed their true allegiances solely to secure Kai's contract extension. Elkann was sending a very clear message: Do not be fooled by the fact that the technical faction currently holds the upper hand. If the technical faction suffers a major setback, or if Kai's performance falls below expectations and Ferrari fails to deliver satisfactory results...
Then the blood will flow.
Elkann could seamlessly shift all the blame onto Kai's shoulders. Simultaneously, he could ruthlessly, systematically purge every single one of these "nails" from the organization, one by one.
This was the true, silent clash of blades in the dark—
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
The corners of Kai's mouth lifted in a faint, knowing smile. He was ready.
In fact, the sheer scale of the reception perfectly validated the crushing weight of that "crown." Because Elkann had indeed brought 100% absolute sincerity to the table, presenting a truly top-tier, historic contract.
Everything was playing out exactly as it had in Monza a year ago.
Before the actual signing ceremony, every single minute detail and clause of the contract had already been fiercely negotiated and finalized. It had been rigorously reviewed and approved by lawyers on both sides. It was precisely because a total consensus had been reached that this formal, face-to-face, black-and-white signing ceremony was taking place. Today's seemingly grand and imposing event was merely the procedural execution of the agreement.
Nicholas had worked tirelessly, maneuvering and battling for over half a year, to finally secure this incredibly hefty, monumental contract for Kai.
Last year in Monza, Kai and Ferrari had signed a "1+2" contract. Logically, Ferrari merely needed to activate the option for the second year. But obviously, since the checkered flag fell at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, the entire world had been turned upside down. The financial allure of that original contract was nowhere near sufficient to keep Kai.
Therefore, Ferrari offered an entirely brand-new contract. Three years.
Base Salary: $35 million.
It wasn't McLaren's $18 million. It wasn't Mercedes-Benz's $20 million. With a single, sweeping stroke of his pen, Elkann showcased the terrifying, overwhelming financial might of Ferrari. While other teams were still evaluating Kai alongside the likes of Verstappen and Ricciardo, trying to fit him into an existing bracket, Elkann had completely bypassed that logic and leaped to the absolute summit.
He skipped the middle steps entirely!
This meant that overnight, Kai had vaulted to the absolute apex of the financial pyramid. He was now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Hamilton and Vettel, becoming the elite of the absolute elite within the paddock.
Just a few short weeks ago, at the conclusion of the season, Kai was still technically a rookie earning a base salary of $500,000. Now, with a single signature, his annual salary had multiplied by a staggering factor of seventy. Even in the obscenely wealthy, cash-burning ecosystem of the F1 paddock, and even for an organization as colossally wealthy as Ferrari, this was an atomic bomb that shocked everyone to their core.
Ferrari had demonstrated an absolutely overwhelming, imperial dominance.
Of course, the base salary was merely the first component. The performance bonuses were equally jaw-dropping.
Grand Prix Victory: $2 million.
Grand Prix Podium: $500,000.
Drivers' World Championship: $10 million.
Constructors' World Championship: $10 million.
Furthermore, if he secured more than eight race wins in a single season, his annual win bonuses would be instantly doubled. If he secured more than twelve race wins in a single season, he would receive an additional, flat $5 million bonus.
Additionally, regarding the team's total points: if Kai's personal contribution exceeded 65% of Ferrari's total Constructors' points, he would receive an extra $3 million bonus. Conversely, if Kai's contribution fell below 35%, even if Ferrari won the Constructors' World Championship, $3 million would be deducted from his total bonus pool.
Everything had received a massive, comprehensive upgrade. Ferrari hadn't become stingy with the performance bonuses just because they had exponentially increased his base salary. On the contrary, they demonstrated even greater audacity with the incentive structure. They genuinely, sincerely wanted the elite driver they were signing to be overwhelmingly motivated, erupting with 200% fighting spirit to hunt down championships.
Points? Pole positions? Fastest laps? DNFs? DSQs?
True, those statistics were important and couldn't be ignored. They were the foundational stepping stones required to pave the road to a World Championship.
But the core, underlying philosophy of this contract couldn't have been clearer: Podiums and Victories. Those were Kai's only acceptable targets. Anything else, even finishing fourth, was considered a disappointing failure.
This was the true burden of responsibility.
This contract wasn't drafted for a mere champion. It was drafted for the next absolute dictator of the paddock.
The expectations and hopes of the entire Ferrari organization, from the very top to the very bottom, had reached an entirely new, unprecedented zenith. Elkann had laid out a super-heavyweight contract capable of upending the established order of the sport. In exchange, he demanded that Kai extract absolutely every ounce of his energy and potential, displaying a level of lethality on the track that perfectly justified the astronomical figures. And he had codified those expectations in black and white—
Ferrari was absolutely not short on cash. The only thing they lacked was the Constructors' World Championship trophy.
So, was Kai ready?
For Ferrari, they needed to see the ultimate end result: Championship, Championship, and more Championships. But for Kai, the reality was infinitely more complex. He needed to focus intensely on the process. He couldn't afford to be overly ambitious and lose sight of the immediate steps. The so-called 'results' had to be meticulously forged, piece by piece, using his own hands and feet on the asphalt.
Naturally, the core focus of Kai's attention extended far, far beyond just the financial figures.
Regarding car design, testing protocols, upgrade packages, and critical components like winter testing and free practice sessions—everything revolving around the physical race car had been detailed and stipulated from the top down.
Nicholas had been incredibly thorough. First, he secured ironclad guarantees regarding Kai's status as the absolute Number One driver; the entire organizational machinery would revolve around him. Second, he explicitly guaranteed Kai's undeniable authority and influence when collaborating with the technical team on R&D and car upgrades. Kai's seat at the decision-making table was now non-negotiable.
It was no longer simply about the rigid "Car A vs. Car B" component specifications outlined in his rookie contract. Nicholas had pushed the boundaries significantly further, officially and comprehensively embedding Kai directly into the core nerve center of the entire technical and developmental team.
A phenomenal race car. That was the fundamental prerequisite Kai required to slaughter the competition on the asphalt.