"What's wrong?" Mrs. Coastfield asked again as Luca's eyes locked onto hers.
"It states that my official racing na will be changed to 'Luca Michelotto,'" Luca said. "It's not just for branding, but for everything including registration, broadcasts, contracts, even personal docuntation tied to the team."
Even though he was speaking softly, Luca was surprised when Mrs. Coastfield pleaded with him to lower his tone to a whisper.
"But this is not what we agreed on," he urged as she pulled him lower.
By now, Vance and everyone else in the room had taken notice of the issue, their eyes turning toward Luca, who was bent sideward, listening to Coastfield's whisper in his ear.
"It is very crucial that that is part of the deal," she told Luca.
"If this was ant to be part of the deal, it should've been discussed beforehand. It wasn't," Luca replied. "I won't sign sothing I wasn't prepared for. My na—who I am—isn't sothing I can just sign away."
Mr. Kovachev, who was unaware of the contract's contents, was stunned to see a problem arising. He leaned in and asked Coastfield about it.
But Coastfield acted as if everything was under control. Yet, the reality was the opposite as she was practically failing to persuade Luca to sign the last section.
One of the journalists in the crowd gathered enough courage to ask a question.
"Luca, is there an issue with the contract?"
Luca was about to lift his head to properly address the question, but Coastfield pulled him down again, urging him to ignore them while she explained.
"It is a very important clause, one that holds the foundation of this transfer, Luca," she whispered urgently. "Please sign, and we can discuss it later with the managent in a room with fewer microphones and caras, of course."
Luca's brow twitched at that absurd suggestion. He knew they owed him an explanation for that clause, but not after he had signed everything.
He shook his head, offering a better suggestion that they could postpone the signing until every misunderstanding that had just erupted was cleared.
Mrs. Coastfield grew desperate as the murmurs in the room turned into shuffling and slowly into noise.
Coastfield, along with every executive at the control unit of Nevada HanSama watching, had half-expected Luca to overlook this clause.
By the ti he realized it, they assud it would be too late, and he'd have no choice but to cough up release funds.
But now, it seed Luca had a strong head.
"Michelotto is a better na, Luca," Coastfield said in desperation as Luca prepared to shift the docunt aside.
"How? Is there sothing wrong with Rennick? A foul aning to it?"
Coastfield pulled Luca down again before exhaling deeply. She realized that if she could at least give him half the explanation for this clause right then and there, maybe it could change his mind and allow the event to carry on peacefully.
"The board decided that the na 'Rennick' stirs up old mories… mories that might not be in the best interest of the team and fans moving forward," she said, lowering her voice even more. "It's not about anything being wrong with the na, Luca. It's just… sensitive history, things that could affect the image we're trying to build with this new partnership."
Luca lifted his gaze, locking eyes with her. His stare was so piercing, so unwavering, that Coastfield had to look away.
Sensitive history.
Luca had never heard anything about this before, but there was no doubt in his mind it had to do with his father's death on the track.
And how many lies after lies?
From Michelotto is a better na to sensitive history. It was as if Nevada HanSama was doing their best to make Luca distrust them even more.
After this, that trust would be at an all-ti low.
To keep himself from saying anything sharp or reckless, Luca simply repeated his stance, saying he wasn't signing the contract.
He made sure to say it loud enough, turning slightly to face the caras, his eyes slicing through the lens—through the TV—straight into the eyes of everyone watching, especially those involved.
He then suggested postponing the event and rediscussing the deal. But until then…
Luca stood up, adjusting his suit—the suit that had served no purpose today.
"I will take my leave," he said, turning away from his seat and from Coastfield who bit her lip.
The mont Luca pushed back his chair, the hall exploded into chaos. Your next read is at My Virtual Library Empire
Everyone surged forward with their microphones and caras, hurling questions at him.
"Luca! Luca! Is there a conflict with the contract?"
"What exactly did Nevada HanSama try to change?"
"Are you walking away from the deal completely?"
Luca didn't answer a single question. He simply turned and walked toward the exit.
Vance was on his feet instantly, falling into step beside him as they walked down the stage and out to the exit under the dim, cloudy sky.
The chaos only escalated after that as all the journalists scrambled to follow, shoving past each other with their microphones and caras raised high.
Security struggled to contain the rush, but it was futile as everyone wanted a piece of Luca's reaction that would surely fuel the season's beginning.
Luca really hoped he was during the right thing as he exited the venue, the press following. Suddenly, he and Vance paused as the press outside were already mobilized, swarming toward them.
Eventually, Luca was surrounded and he sighed. Flashes burst from all directions, blinding and relentless. Questions flew at him from every angle.
"Why does Nevada HanSama want to remove 'Rennick'?"
"Is there a reason they don't want your real na in F1?"
"Is Rennick your real na?"
"Luca, by any chance... are you the son of Late Aldo Rennick?"
Dino and Chico, Luca's security detail, were already on the scene, working to clear a path to the waiting car.
But the sheer number of reporters made it nearly impossible, even for n as strong as them. The press was relentless, shoving microphones and caras forward, demanding answers.
Luca knew he couldn't escape without addressing at least one of their questions, any one he could answer accurately.
His heart pounded. He was well aware that his face was being broadcast live on countless screens, and later, it would be replayed for those who had missed it.
Taking a steady breath, he spoke. "I can't comnt on Nevada's stated clause," he began.
Luckily, the chaotic crowd quieted slightly, eager to hear more.
"And yes," Luca continued, "Rennick is my real last na." He paused, inhaling deeply before delivering the final blow. "And Aldo was my father. He died when I was a boy. That'll be all."
But it wasn't enough. Not for the press, not for the caras.
Dino and Chico weren't having it. They pushed forward, giving Luca just enough space to slip into the back seat of the car.
Reporters sward the vehicle, crowding the windows, their caras flashing as if their presence alone could stop it from moving.
Then, to their dismay, venue security arrived. This security was ard, authoritative, and determined on clearing the way. With their intervention, the car finally reversed out of the parking lot, leaving the chaos behind.
Luca exhaled and turned his head to the right, eting Manuela's quiet gaze. She had been watching him closely, analyzing every movent and every expression he made once he got into the car.
Without a word, she offered him a handkerchief. "You're sweating in winter."
Luca let out a small laugh, accepting it. He wiped his face dry.
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