Page 97 of Red Flagged
“She is. The epitome of a rebel, but she has a cause.” His jaw flexed once. “Interpol recruited her after one of her cases led to the recovery of thirty-two minors from an underground trafficking ring spanning four countries. That investigation… it’s what led her to Adrian Morel.”
The name settled over the room like a shockwave.
Maverick went on, calm but deadly. “The case connected to him through a series of shell companies used for hush money payments. Multiple allegations of rape, coercion, underage grooming. Sophie found evidence of direct collusion between Orion GP leadership and Morel’s camp to silence and pay off victims. And once she brought it to light, it became clear the team was going to collapse. They had to sell.”
I glanced at Beckett, who was watching me evenly. This was news to me, and quite frankly, the fact that it hadn’t become public seemed a miracle all on its own.
Beckett lifted a brow. “I acquired the team for about a third of what it was worth on paper. The owners knew they were sitting on a PR bomb. I gave them a way out.”
“And Sophie’s still involved?” I asked.
Maverick nodded. “She’s not letting it go. She’s following the money, the records, the power structure. But she’s also assisting in locking up the predators who deserve to be behind bars. She’s making sure we don’t inherit the disease with the name change. And if she can’t find what she’s looking for, she digs until something screams. She doesn’t scare easy. Neither do I.”
I stared down into my glass. This was more than a restructure. This was a reclamation. Not too different from what we’d been fighting for—safer preventative measures, protected data, equal treatment. Aurélie’s name didn’t have to be said out loud. It was written all over the silence.
“And you?” I asked him. “What’s your stake in all this?”
He gave a slow, dark smile. “I own a nightclub in New York, a casino in Vegas, and I’ve expanded into parts of Dubai and Barcelona. You name it, I’ve had a piece of it.”
I lifted a brow. “So you’ve played both sides.”
“I’ve done what I had to do. Sometimes that meant breaking rules. Sometimes it meant breaking people. Depends on who you ask.”
Beckett didn’t say anything. Just tilted his head, eyes flicking toward me like he was studying the way I’d absorb that. He was testing me, seeing if I’d flinch. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t afford to.
“Let’s just say I’ve seen the worst of men, and been close enough to become one. I know what corruption looks like. I’ve made my peace with my past, but I also know I can’t be the face of something like this. Not anymore. There’s too much press and exposure. I’ve got money, reach, and leverage. But I don’t have trust.”
He met my stare dead on. “I know what it costs to clean blood out of books. I also know what it takes to keep your hands clean when they’ve already been dirty. That’s why I wouldn’t be at this table if I didn’t believe Sophie could keep this clean. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be signing anything unless you were part of it.”
I didn’t answer right away. My fingers curled tighter around the glass as I thought about all of this. It wasn’t just business. It was morality and memory, loyalty and legacy. Making waves to help change happen in all the right places. And I had to be okay with the fact that going into business with a man like Mercerwasn’t clean. But maybe that was the point. You didn’t bleach blood with more blood. You dug down to the bone and started fresh.
And maybe, just maybe, I respected the hell out of him for it. For owning it and for protecting what was his. After all… isn’t that what I was doing for Aurélie? For our friends? For the better of a sport that saved me?
“Because of my name?” I asked finally, once I had come to terms with it all.
Maverick nodded once. “Because of what it stands for. Lachlan tells me he’s been chasing you for months, and now that you're here, I can finally see the shape of this thing. It’s not just viable. It’s future-proof. People trust you, even when they don't trust the sport.”
Beckett picked up where he left off. “We’re projecting returns of €50 to €80 million per season once the rebrand stabilizes. More if we start placing consistently. But this isn’t just about profit; it’s aboutpermanence. You’ve been the face of this sport for a decade, Fraser. And like it or not, that means you’re part of its future too.”
He paused meaningfully, giving me a look that said he knewexactlywhere this hit. “Especially as the fight against systemic sexism—” he broke off, nodding slowly, clearly referencing Aurélie without naming her—“and the demand for equity in this sport ramps up, we need to be ahead of the curve. Progressive, purposeful, and strategic. This team needs to look like the future, not the past.”
Maverick added, “That’s another reason we’re here early. In the States, F1’s still growing. And that’s great for expansion, but it also means the cracks are easier to see from the outside. Especially in the staffing. And…” he pinned me with a hard look as he shifted to sit forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, “frankly, in the culture surrounding some of the drivers.”
There it was. The quiet indictment.
“You being involved—on the inside—gives us a hell of a lot more peace of mind.”
I took a sip of the scotch, letting it sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing. I let the numbers roll around in my head. That was real money. The kind that built something that lasted. The kind that said: I didn’t just race. I built a fucking empire.
“The second?” I urged after a few moments.
“Partial ownership,” Beckett said. “Ten percent stake. €50 million buy-in. You’re in the room, but no final say. Influence, but not power.”
“And sponsorship’s not worth talking about,” Maverick added. “That’d make you a glorified mascot. You’re not a mascot.”
“No,” I said flatly. “I’m not.” I leaned back, the scotch warm in my throat.
There was a time not too long ago when I wouldn’t have hesitated. I would've signed the deal before Beckett finished the pitch.
