As Monfardini spoke, he gestured toward the group of kids.
Even though they were all clustered together off to the side, their eyes couldn't help but drift over, studying Kai with a mix of awe and giddy excitement.
Kai noticed, flashing them a smile and a quick wave. The kids instantly erupted into a flurry of motion, hopping and cheering, completely unable to contain their thrill.
They were just... a bunch of genuine kids.
Monfardini let out a soft sigh, looking slightly troubled. "But twelve and thirteen... it really is too young."
Change is often difficult. Like labor pains, it's fraught with uncertainty and agony.
This was especially true for Ferrari, a team currently battered by the wind and rain, having lost its sense of direction.
Kai looked at the lively, adorable kids, the smile remaining on his face, but his response didn't skip a beat. "No, I disagree."
"Since you're already preparing to break the shackles and give these kids a chance, why place artificial limits on yourselves? Why tie your own hands? Fernando, this is Ferrari. You don't need to ask for trouble. You guys already have layer upon layer of chains binding you down. Aren't you tired of the extra effort?"
He was blunt and razor-sharp—every word striking a vital point.
Kai was still Kai. He stood tall, speaking his mind with absolute transparency, without avoiding the difficult truths.
A bitter, helpless smile touched the corners of Monfardini's mouth. But he didn't interrupt. In fact, he liked this version of Kai.
Open, straightforward, and sincere. Hidden within those seemingly harsh words lay the absolute truth.
Monfardini listened closely, paying careful attention.
"Twelve and fifteen are fundamentally the same. They are equally young, equally ignorant, like uncut jade. They both require polishing and carving. The potential they show at different ages might vary, but true, fundamental talent doesn't lie."
"If they display enough talent, we should open up every possibility for them."
"Didn't you just say that maybe they could follow in my footsteps and enter the paddock at seventeen or eighteen? If that's the case, then age restrictions are even more unnecessary. It's like shooting yourself in the foot."
"According to Ferrari's traditions, I shouldn't have joined the Driver Academy, and I definitely shouldn't have joined the F1 team. The so-called 'traditions' have already been shattered, haven't they?"
Gentle and clear, Kai's expression and words were like a spring breeze, entirely devoid of aggression.
But precisely because of that, his gaze was impossible to ignore.
Monfardini couldn't help it; he nodded slightly in agreement.
Kai's lips twitched into a smirk. "Fernando, Ferrari needs fresh air. Since you've already chosen to take a risk, what's the point of continuing to be timid and binding your own hands and feet?"
A breath caught in Monfardini's chest, lingering for a long time. Watching Kai's open and honest expression, the swirling thoughts in his mind finally dissolved into a quiet smile. "We."
Kai blinked. "Huh?"
Monfardini clarified, "It should be 'we.' We chose to take a risk. We embraced the unknown. It all started with you."
The amusement in Kai's eyes deepened. "Fernando, are you trying to use an emotional offensive on me now?"
Monfardini nodded decisively. "Yes." He paused, looking directly at Kai. "So, is it working?"
Kai gave Monfardini a meaningful look. "You guys should try using that tactic on the people upstairs. After all, I'm always open to possibilities. The ones constantly suffocating those possibilities are them."
Monfardini wasn't surprised; it was just a lighthearted joke. "I know. So, I've been praying they don't destroy the legacy Mr. Marchionne left behind."
Kai nodded. "I second that."
Dropping that final thought, Kai didn't linger. He bent his knees, threw his arms wide open, and charged at the group of twelve- and thirteen-year-olds like an eagle swooping down on a flock of chicks. Bearman, Antonelli, and the rest erupted into giggles, the whole group tumbling into a chaotic, playful heap.
Standing to the side, quietly witnessing the scene, the curve of Monfardini's mouth lifted slightly before fading away. The rigid tension in his shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
Every time he was on the verge of forgetting, his rational mind would issue a stark reminder: the new Drivers' World Champion was only nineteen years old. A completely new world, entirely new possibilities, and infinite unknowns were laid out before them. Ferrari had finally seized the initiative at the crossroads of history. He could only hope they wouldn't squander it.
Shortly after Kai turned and left, Monfardini carefully reviewed the files one more time. He ultimately selected five kids to stay. They became the very first trainees under the age of sixteen in the history of the Ferrari Driver Academy, marking the program's official foray into the karting ranks.
Among them were the two young boys, Bearman and Antonelli.
Later on, Bearman and Antonelli would always look at Kai with eyes full of worship and reverence. This extended to their parents, families, and friends, leaving Kai perpetually bewildered and flattered by the sheer intensity of their adoration. It wasn't until much later that Kai accidentally discovered the truth. Monfardini had told them:
The only reason these two boys were allowed to stay was entirely because of Kai. Kai saw their potential, and so he granted them this opportunity.
From a legendary figure in the academy, to a towering idol, to a leader who actively changed the lives of young drivers—in realms Kai wasn't even aware of, he was rapidly becoming a myth.
However, Kai was completely oblivious to all of this.
Leaving the youth academy, Kai made his way straight toward the executive building.
John Elkann hadn't taken over Sergio Marchionne's old office. Instead, he had requisitioned two offices on the top floor of the building, knocked down the dividing wall, and transformed the space into a massive, sprawling suite. This was now the official domain of Ferrari's new president.
Even a small detail like this revealed Elkann's intent: he was actively attempting to erase Marchionne's fingerprints and establish his own, entirely new management style.
A leader is a leader. He didn't need to, nor did he plan to, immerse himself in the grit of the ground floor. He was the commander on high, responsible for navigating the ship and dictating the direction of travel.
Furthermore, Elkann had no intention of pretending otherwise.
Many had assumed Elkann would at least put on a show of continuity, given the immense wealth of resources, networks, and legacy Marchionne had left behind at Ferrari.
But Elkann had other ideas. A new broom sweeps clean. He seized the opportunity to make a definitive statement: he was not Marchionne's successor; he was a completely new leader. If anyone thought Elkann was preparing to inherit Marchionne's mantle, they needed to wake up from that fantasy as quickly as possible.
In just six short months, the world had been turned upside down.
"Kai! Mr. Elkann is waiting for you inside." The secretary sitting outside the office immediately stood up to welcome him.
She didn't use the intercom to notify Elkann. Instead, she stepped out from behind her desk, personally escorted Kai to the door, and knocked lightly in a display of old-school, formal tradition. "Mr. Elkann, Kai has arrived."
The truth is often hidden in the details.
So, did this mean Elkann himself was a leader deeply devoted to tradition? Or was this his way of aggressively reasserting Ferrari's status and heritage?
Pushing open the office doors, Kai wasn't met with the opulent, gilded extravagance he might have expected. Instead, the design was sleek, minimalist, and distinctly New York, a clear reflection of Elkann's background and education. But the true centerpiece was the entire wall of glass directly behind the executive desk. It offered an unobstructed, panoramic view of the entire Ferrari compound. From up here, they could look down upon everything, watching the dense swarm of worker ants scurrying about their business.
The visual impact was striking.
Even though the buildings within the Maranello Ferrari base weren't particularly tall—the highest point here was only six stories, offering no comparison to the towering skyscrapers of New York—the sheer height and breadth of the vantage point offered a completely different perspective. A gasp of awe naturally rolled in the back of Kai's throat.
In this exact moment, one thing was absolutely certain: Elkann was not Marchionne.
...
"Wow."
Standing just inside the doorway, Kai paused, not fully entering the room. He took in the sweeping, unobstructed view. Not just the Ferrari base, but the entirety of Maranello was laid out before him. The sprawling, flat plains looked incredibly vast and majestic, prompting a genuine sigh of amazement—
The surprise was real, but a faint trace of mockery was hidden deep within his tone.
Elkann didn't seem to notice. He turned to look out at the magnificent vista behind him, a flicker of self-satisfaction passing through his eyes as he soaked in the empire he now commanded. "Maranello has its own spectacular scenery."
Kai tilted his chin up slightly, a half-smile playing in his eyes. "I'm absolutely certain this is a unique view I've never seen before."
Yet, Elkann still didn't seem to catch the underlying jab. "A brand new era."
So, was he truly missing the point, or was he deliberately ignoring Kai's sarcasm and playing dumb?
Normally, Kai would lean toward the latter; these corporate executives were all cunning foxes. But strangely, looking at the Elkann standing before him today, Kai suddenly realized it might actually be the former.
It wasn't that Elkann wasn't intelligent. It was that he was genuinely so immersed in his own world, so immensely proud of the kingdom he was building, that he was simply enjoying the view. Even mockery, filtered through his ears, sounded like sincere praise.
The proof was right in front of him—
Elkann offered an inviting gesture, standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows and motioning for Kai to join him. His eyes were filled with happiness and satisfaction. The slight straightening of his spine and the widening of his shoulders radiated a distinct sense of pride.
He was standing at the summit, surveying the world below, dictating the grand strategy, ready to roll up his sleeves and make history.
As Kai stepped up to the window and settled beside him, Elkann stood silently, admiring the bustling figures in the base below. There were tourists coming and going, staff members rushing about their tasks, and the ordinary residents of Maranello living their lives. All mortal beings seemed to exist solely beneath his feet.
Then, Elkann turned slightly. "What do you see?"
His tone failed to suppress a bubbling sense of excitement, like a child eager to share a joy—
Like finding an incredible new game and desperately wanting to show it to a friend. And not just any friend, but an absolute best friend.
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Maranello."
Not Ferrari, but Maranello. The kingdom Enzo Ferrari had built from the ground up. The true essence wasn't the brand itself, but the spirit deeply rooted in this very soil, woven into the bones, blood, and soul of the place.
Everyone always said Ferrari made Maranello. Perhaps that was true once. But after half a century of weathering storms together, the roles had reversed. Maranello was now the force sustaining Ferrari, acting as the team's most unyielding backbone even in their darkest, most desperate years.
Clearly, Elkann didn't like that answer. "I see Ferrari."
The stark difference in perspective between the ruler and the worker was instantly laid bare.
A smile touched Kai's eyes. "And what exactly does Mr. Elkann see for Ferrari?"
Elkann looked confused.
Kai elaborated, "The past. The present. Or the future."
He didn't raise the pitch of his voice at the end. What should have been a question was delivered as a flat statement.
Elkann finally snapped out of his reverie, catching the deeper implications of Kai's words. He turned fully, studying Kai closely, a hint of intrigue sparking in his eyes.
"So," Elkann paused, "in your eyes, what is the blueprint for Ferrari's future?"
The negotiation... had it officially begun?
This was the second formal meeting between Elkann and Kai.
During the off-season, rumors had been swirling relentlessly. Amidst the chaotic sea of gossip, Elkann firmly believed one thing: Kai cutting his vacation short to return to Europe wasn't for Ferrari. It was for Mercedes-Benz.
Toto Wolff was preparing to meet with Kai privately. A sit-down, face-to-face conversation.
It was not only a display of sincerity but a declaration of intent. Mercedes was playing for keeps this time.
Within the paddock, it was an open secret that Wolff had been aggressively coveting Max Verstappen for years. He believed Verstappen's raw talent could secure the future of Mercedes. But Red Bull guarded Verstappen fiercely, even willing to sacrifice Daniel Ricciardo to keep him happy. Wolff never stood a chance.
And then, Kai exploded onto the scene.
In just one short year, Kai had reached a height that both Hamilton and Verstappen were currently struggling to touch. Wolff's affections had immediately shifted.
Yes, on the track, Wolff was furious, looking ready to tear Kai to pieces. But off the track, Wolff saw an entirely different picture.
Elkann had every reason to believe Kai's return to Europe was specifically to meet with Wolff.
Therefore, Ferrari had to act. They needed to strike first, before Wolff could use his silver tongue to enchant Kai.
Both Kai and Nicholas Todt had agreed to give Ferrari the first opportunity. After their previous, highly contentious meeting, they were willing to sit down and listen to Elkann's new, revised plan.
The initiative currently remained in Elkann's hands.
However—
Was this it?
Right out of the gate, Elkann's opening question was this vague, grandiose, philosophical fluff?
Wasn't the positioning entirely backward?
Right now, Ferrari should be trying to convince Kai to stay and sign a contract extension. Kai shouldn't be the one trying to convince Ferrari to give him a contract so he could keep driving for them.
In truth, from the very beginning, Kai had never intended to "convince" Ferrari of anything. That was true in Monza a year ago, it was true now in Maranello, and it likely wouldn't change in the future.
Kai studied Elkann closely, only to find the executive's eyes filled with earnest sincerity. It seemed he was actually serious. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Kai's mouth.
But Kai had no intention of answering. "Mr. Elkann, I believe you are the one who should be answering that question. As the new helmsman of Ferrari, what exactly is the future blueprint you've drawn up?"
The ball was tossed right back into Elkann's court.
Elkann clasped his hands behind his back, carefully assessing the incredibly sharp young man standing before him.
He didn't like the effortless composure and absolute confidence radiating from Kai. In this one-on-one duel, their battle of auras was entirely unbalanced.
Nevertheless, Elkann spoke. "Championships."
He continued, "Not just the Drivers' World Championship. We are going to take back the Constructors' World Championship as well."
Heh.
Kai laughed. A genuine look of amusement flashed in his eyes, as if he were watching a child playing make-believe. "Mr. Elkann, we aren't here to shout empty slogans."
"Shouting slogans is easy. You could say that not only will Ferrari win both championships next season, but we'll dominate the paddock for the next decade, crushing the competition so thoroughly that the FIA will be forced to introduce new regulations just to artificially restore competition and suspense to F1."
"See? Spitting out pretty words is simple. We can paint an even grander, more massive blueprint. Nothing could be easier. Even Haas and Williams could do that."
"The true crux of the matter is how we achieve that goal. How we execute that blueprint. Before we can even discuss execution and implementation, we need the helmsman to outline a detailed architectural plan. So, Mr. Elkann, what is your actual blueprint?"
Sentence after sentence, delivered with a warm, gentle tone, like a soothing spring breeze, even carrying a faint smile. Yet the edge hidden within those words was razor-sharp and ruthless. Step by step, Kai backed Elkann into a corner, completely reversing the roles and seizing total control of the conversation—
If Ferrari didn't have a concrete blueprint, or if that blueprint failed to impress Kai, then Kai would turn around and walk away without a single second of hesitation.
It was truly that simple, and Kai was explicitly reminding Elkann of that fact.
The smile lingered on Kai's lips. His eyes were clear and bright, seemingly transparent, yet the depths of his thoughts remained entirely obscured.
"I'm right here. I'm all ears."
It was just one sentence. Spoken lightly, seemingly devoid of any aggressive force.
Yet, within the confines of the top-floor office, the dynamic of initiator and reactor, of power and vulnerability, had silently and completely flipped. The entire power structure had inverted.
Looking up, Kai watched the muscles in Elkann's oval face gradually stiffen. Despite Elkann's desperate attempts to maintain control, a dark cloud of displeasure was clearly visible in his eyes.
Obviously, Elkann didn't like being challenged.
But did Kai care?
"Hehe."
Kai chuckled softly.
"My apologies, Mr. Elkann. Please forgive my rudeness. I spend so much time down in the pit lane, dealing with grease and mechanics, that my speech tends to get a bit blunt. My parents constantly remind me that we come from a culture of politeness and respect. I should never forget my manners, especially when speaking to my elders."
"I am truly, terribly sorry."
Elkann: ...
The kid had just delivered both the insult and the apology flawlessly. What was he supposed to say to that?
So—
What should Elkann do now? Walk right into Kai's trap and obediently answer the question?
Of course... not.
Elkann kept his eyes locked on Kai, forcing a smile onto his face. "Judging by your words, it's clear you already have a vision for the team's future blueprint. Why don't you share it with me? Let's see what we can do, and whether it can provide some valuable additions to the overall master plan."
The topic was smoothly deflected right back.
The underlying message was clear: during their last meeting, the newly appointed CEO, Louis Camilleri, had already delivered a lengthy, impassioned speech detailing their grand new vision. Elkann wasn't about to foolishly repeat it a second time.
Back and forth, a masterful display of verbal Tai Chi.
The first time, Kai refused to answer because he needed to establish his stance and assert his dominance.
This second time, the situation was entirely different. Kai was ready to ride the momentum, seize the opportunity to take the lead, and forcefully wrench the team back onto the right track.
"First," Kai began. A visible shift occurred in Elkann's expression.
Elkann had assumed Kai would refuse again. He was preparing to use that refusal to unveil Ferrari's brand new contract offer—an updated, massive upgrade from their previous meeting, an offer so lucrative Kai couldn't refuse it, thereby wrestling back control of the negotiation.
He hadn't expected Kai to completely ignore the script.
Kai noticed Elkann's reaction, but he didn't pause. If Ferrari had their conditions, Kai had his own demands and expectations. "We cannot continue to repeat the exact same blunders. Shanghai, Hockenheim, Singapore, Interlagos."
"If we want to win the Constructors' World Championship, we need to function as a unified team."
The arrow pointed directly at Sebastian Vettel.
A look of intrigue sparked in Elkann's eyes. "I didn't expect those words to come from you."
Kai wasn't bothered in the slightest. He laughed. "I didn't expect it either."
"What I mean is, I will always prioritize myself. I will fight tooth and nail for victories and championships. That is my goal, and that is my job."
"But if my teammate has a significantly better opportunity to secure a win for the team, we need to coordinate."
Elkann pressed, "Are you conceding defeat?"
"No," Kai replied firmly. "I am projecting confidence. First, I believe I will always be able to beat my teammate. Second, even if I miss out on an opportunity this time, I am confident that when the next opportunity arises, I will be the one who prevails."
Because of his absolute self-belief, Kai was perfectly willing to open the door to fair competition. He was ready to face any challenge head-on, certain he would be the one laughing at the end.
Elkann tilted his chin up slightly. The light in his eyes shifted, indicating he was deep in thought, actively weighing the proposal.
Just as Kai was about to continue, Elkann spoke. "Agreed. I can promise you that next season, you will be the undisputed Number One driver for the team."
He paused, adding, "If necessary, we can put that explicitly in black and white in your contract."
Clearly, Elkann was fully aware of the friction between Kai and Maurizio Arrivabene during the contract signing in Monza last year.
In just one short year, Kai had ascended from the Number Two driver to the Number One driver—and he had done it at Ferrari, a team where even reigning World Champions traditionally had little say in the matter.
However, Kai showed no signs of joy or triumph.
In his eyes, this was the position he had rightfully earned. He had fought for it with his performance on the track. It was the natural, undeniable result of his speed. It was absolutely not an act of charity bestowed upon him by Elkann.
Therefore, Kai didn't even twitch an eyebrow. He simply pushed forward.
"Second," he continued. Elkann's smile slowly stiffened, but that didn't stop Kai. "A team is built on far more than just its drivers."
Sure enough, Elkann's forced smile completely collapsed, replaced by a flash of severe sternness in his eyes.
He had anticipated what was coming next, and Kai's words confirmed his exact fears. Kai was pointing the blade directly at the management faction.
In short, Kai was choosing to side with the technical faction.
"The strategy team. The technical team. The R&D department. We need a comprehensive, top-to-bottom overhaul."
Elkann's heart hammered violently. Even though he had a strong premonition after their last meeting—and the covert maneuvering between the management and technical factions hadn't escaped his notice—he had braced himself for this. But hearing Kai actually say it aloud still triggered a massive surge of frustration.
Elkann narrowed his eyes, glaring at Kai. "Do you have any idea what you're demanding?"
He was demanding the complete upheaval of Ferrari's core traditional culture!
But Kai wasn't going to back down. "Of course I do. I am demanding an excellent race car." But crucially, he didn't take the bait.
Direct confrontation didn't mean Kai was stupid enough to step into a trap. He wasn't going to get sucked into Elkann's rhythm and become a pawn in the brutal power struggle between the management and technical factions. Cleverly, Kai kept the sole focus entirely on the car itself.
"Mr. Elkann, I have immense confidence in my abilities, but I'm not an idiot. I don't suffer from the delusion that I can jump into a Williams and still slaughter the entire grid."
"But we are Ferrari!" Elkann countered sharply.
"Exactly. We are Ferrari," Kai fired back. "So please, build a Ferrari. Don't build a loser that spends the entire season staring at the back of a Mercedes rear wing, eating their dust. When people look at a Ferrari, the first word that should pop into their heads is 'Champion.' Not 'the second-fastest car on the grid.'"
Elkann: ...
Yet, Kai wasn't finished throwing fuel on the fire. "It's terrible for the brand image. Nobody runs marketing campaigns bragging about being the second-fastest in the world. Or perhaps... the third-fastest?"
Elkann wasn't buying the rhetoric. "Are you absolutely certain you aren't just preemptively stockpiling excuses for failing to win the championship next year?"
"Haha!" Kai laughed outright, a bright, booming sound. "Mr. Elkann, trust me. If I lose the championship, the car will be the absolute last excuse I ever use. And similarly, if I win the championship, the car won't be the first thing I praise either."
He, the driver, the man behind the wheel—he was the focal point.
The overwhelming confidence and pride radiating from him was blinding. It was impossible to look away.
"However, if Mr. Elkann wishes to use the car as the scapegoat for why we lost the Constructors' World Championship this year, I personally have no objections."
In other words: If you're blaming the car for losing the team title, then the people who built the car need to be reformed. The technical team, the R&D team, the strategy team—they all need to change.
Elkann choked. The very excuse he had tried to use to corner Kai had been flawlessly weaponized against him.
Kai didn't rush to fill the silence. He waited patiently, deliberately letting the quiet stretch out. Once he was absolutely certain Elkann had no immediate comeback, he finally spoke again.
"Mr. Elkann, have you reviewed the testing data for our new 2019 car yet?"
Development for the new season's car always begins early, usually around April or May. The 2018 and 2019 projects had been running in parallel, with the allocation of resources shifting based on performance. If the 2018 car remained highly competitive, the primary focus stayed on the current season. But the moment it lost its competitive edge, the focus rapidly shifted to the following year.
Therefore, long before Marchionne's tragic passing, the development of Ferrari's 2019 challenger was already well underway.
Kai was overflowing with confidence, pressing his advantage step by step. The sheer self-assurance radiating from his words and demeanor was generating a terrifying momentum, giving him total control of the negotiation.
Kai... was truly a massive headache.
Elkann finally realized it.
To be precise, Kai was far more difficult to handle than Nicholas Todt. Because Nicholas was an agent, he was open to negotiation, compromise, and shifting positions based on mutual interests. The dynamic of power could constantly fluctuate. But Kai wasn't playing that game. He simply dropped his unyielding stance right on the table—
Immovable. Unshakable.
Elkann felt like he was repeatedly slamming headfirst into a brick wall. The frequency, the methodology, the very battleground—everything was entirely out of his comfort zone. None of his usual tactics worked. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, unable to find a single point of leverage.
But Elkann didn't panic. He hadn't survived the cutthroat, blood-soaked succession battle within the Fiat Chrysler empire by being a lightweight. He was no fool.
Elkann dug his heels in, attempting to violently reverse the momentum. Without a pause or a flicker of hesitation, he slammed right back into Kai.
"Of course I have. It's absolutely astonishing."
He hadn't expected a smile to flash across Kai's eyes. Elkann jolted, but before he could even open his mouth to elaborate, Kai's counterattack arrived.
"Astonishingly excellent? Or an astonishing disaster?"
Elkann: ...
This time, Kai didn't leave a single millimeter of breathing room. He advanced with perfect rhythm, alternating tension and release. Right now, he was a torrential storm, unleashing wave after wave of relentless pressure. "Visually, of course, a Ferrari is still a Ferrari. The aesthetic appeal of our cars will always be untouchable within the paddock."
"However, if it looks stunning but handles like a garbage truck... if it's all flash and zero substance... is that also a proud continuation of Ferrari's 'excellent traditions'?"
Elkann actually smiled. His eyes crinkled with genuine amusement. He didn't panic, nor did he act impulsively. Instead, he grew remarkably calm. "And yet, you drove exactly that kind of Ferrari to a World Championship."
The underlying implication was clear: You're slapping yourself in the face with your own argument.
Unfortunately for Elkann, Kai remained entirely unfazed. "Yes, I did. The key word there is I. Perhaps when Mr. Elkann has some free time, he could review the performance data of our other driver. He was driving the exact same Ferrari. Why was the performance gap so utterly massive? And while you're at it, maybe review exactly how we managed to throw away the Constructors' World Championship."
Elkann had anticipated a fierce counterattack, but he hadn't expected something this nakedly brutal. Kai wasn't leaving him a shred of dignity. Elkann's smile began to fracture.
"Is this arrogance, or simply ignorance? Oh, I had no idea you were this kind of person..." Elkann held his ground, hurling the sarcastic jab back across the desk.
But Kai didn't care in the slightest. "This is a good thing. It's much better to uncover the ugly truth now, while we both still have the chance to regret our choices. It's better to slam the brakes before we commit to anything further, avoiding endless bickering and whining down the road. It's exactly like going on a blind date with sky-high expectations, only to be completely horrified when you finally meet. It's best to cut our losses now before we waste any more of each other's time."
"Right?"
He was calm. He was completely at ease. Yet his words acted like a serrated blade, twisting viciously into Elkann's chest.
Elkann couldn't believe his ears. Was this kid seriously threatening him right now? Yes, that was a threat, wasn't it?!
But Kai's offensive didn't let up for a second. "Mr. Elkann, although we obviously don't have access to our competitors' telemetry yet, if the car we currently have in development is going to be our final product... I can guarantee you right now, we are going to lose. Next season, we are going to lose, and it's going to be incredibly embarrassing."
The 2019 car was currently trapped in purgatory. Marchionne's radical reforms had only just begun to sprout before his death; they hadn't been fully implemented. Consequently, Ferrari was still developing the car under their deeply flawed, existing operational structure.
On one hand, the technical faction was suffocated by the rigid, bureaucratic red tape imposed by the management faction. Even the Technical Director, Mattia Binotto, was forced to constantly navigate the treacherous political minefield between the warring factions just to survive. On the other hand, the technical faction itself was deeply entrenched in its old ways, stubbornly refusing to adapt to modern trends or open their minds to superior, cutting-edge concepts from outside Maranello.
As for the feedback provided by Vettel, Kai, and the simulator drivers? It was treated merely as a polite "suggestion." When it came time to make actual, critical design decisions, their voices were completely ignored.
So, on the surface, it appeared Ferrari had finally achieved a massive breakthrough in 2018. Not only had they won the Drivers' World Championship, but they had dragged the Constructors' battle to the very last lap of the final race. The team looked like it was thriving, filling everyone with immense hope for the upcoming year.
But in reality, it was all an illusion. If the internal chaos, the deep-seated divisions, and the systemic rot weren't completely eradicated, Ferrari was just spinning its wheels. They were doomed to repeat the exact same mistakes, suffering the exact same systemic failures, over and over again.
In a best-case scenario, they might catch a fleeting glimpse of dawn. In a worst-case scenario, they would sink back into the mud, or perhaps even plunge completely into the abyss.
In truth, the 2018 season had been defined by this exact rollercoaster. After the summer break, trapped in a desperate crisis, Binotto and Mekies had chosen to put their absolute faith in Kai. They had fought through unimaginable odds just to secure a tiny sliver of hope. And now, before the 2019 season had even begun, they were being dragged right back to square one.
Kai wasn't just fear-mongering to make a point—
The current iteration of the 2019 car was... a disaster. The flaws were so numerous and systemic that they didn't even know where to begin fixing them.
How it stacked up against Red Bull remained to be seen during winter testing. But Kai was absolutely certain that their development had already fallen significantly behind Mercedes in the arms race.
The situation could very well be worse than it was at the start of 2018.
Despite having only spent one year in the sport, Kai was now far more lucid and rational about the reality of Formula 1—
Without a capable race car, everything else was just empty talk.
If the cars' performance levels were virtually identical, or even if yours was slightly slower, a generational driver could rely on pure talent to turn the tide. They could even use superior strategy and teamwork to reverse a losing situation. But if the performance deficit between the cars was too massive, the race was over before it began. No amount of driving genius could overcome basic physics.
Even if Ayrton Senna was resurrected and Michael Schumacher was sitting in his prime, helplessness was still helplessness.
Behind the glorious breakthrough of the 2018 season, an unprecedented crisis was looming.
However—
"So, this is your final conclusion, then." Elkann refused to believe it. He wasn't swayed by Kai's words in the slightest. In fact, he was entirely convinced he had just uncovered Kai's true motive. "You're preparing to abandon Ferrari?"
The underlying implication couldn't have been more obvious: You're going to Mercedes.
Elkann had every reason to believe that Kai and Wolff had already held their secret meeting. He was certain Mercedes had successfully courted Kai, and that the deal was already done.
That single sentence made Kai laugh.
He laughed with genuine, unrestrained amusement.
"Mr. Elkann, do you honestly believe that this is all a done deal? That my return to the Ferrari base today is nothing more than an elaborate PR stunt? That I'm just putting on a show to pacify the Tifosi, pretending to negotiate in good faith so that when I finally announce I'm leaving, I can claim it wasn't my choice, but rather the team's failure to meet me halfway?"
"So, you think I'm just here to lay the groundwork so I can shift the blame onto you?"
Once again, Kai completely ignored the script. With a gentle, precise thrust, he ripped the ugly, paranoid assumptions hiding beneath the surface and dragged them out into the blinding sunlight for all to see.
Elkann looked visibly shaken. He hadn't expected Kai to just explicitly state the unspoken accusations out loud. But he managed to steady himself. He forced a smile and looked down at Kai with a haughty, evaluating stare. "Isn't that exactly what you're doing?"
"Of course not." Kai's smile vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of cold, absolute severity.
The atmosphere in the room froze solid.
Elkann wasn't entirely sure he was seeing straight, because he swore he could see a distinct flash of contempt in Kai's eyes.
Wait... contempt?
Kai spoke with absolute conviction. "If this was all just an elaborate theatrical performance, the show would have ended the moment I walked through your office door. The audience is out there. In here—in this elevated, isolated space—there is absolutely no need to keep acting. Why would I waste my own time, let alone yours?"
"And why on earth would I freely offer critical, constructive advice to a team I considered to be my future rival?"
"Or do you think I'm just a kind-hearted angel? That even while breaking up with you, I still care so deeply that I'm offering you sincere, strategic advice out of the goodness of my heart, hoping everyone lives happily ever after?"
"I had no idea I possessed such a saintly, magnificent image in Mr. Elkann's eyes. I'm truly humbled. Deeply humbled."