Page 2 of Racing for Redemption (Backmarker Love trilogy #1)

Architect of its demise

Violet

I want to enjoy Japan, but honestly, this entire trip has been riddled with disappointment.

In the garage, the air vibrates with the roar of engines, my heart mirroring the speed of the cars. Nicholas—our sole remaining driver—is out there somewhere in the chaos of the Suzuka Circuit.

Dead last.

As usual.

I hold my breath, waiting for his car to appear around the last corner leading into the main straight.

“Come on, Nicholas,” I mutter under my breath, digging my fingernails into my palms. “Do something. P19 is right there! ”

The familiar black and red livery of our car flashes into view, pushing hard, and for a moment, hope surges through me.

But as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes.

Nicholas’ car spins wildly, colliding with the barriers in an anticlimactic spectacle of carbon fiber and sparks that was barely televised.

I close my eyes. This is a nightmare. It must be.

When I open them, the harsh reality remains for everyone to see. Criticise. Mock. Our fourth consecutive DNF.

And now, we only have one car on track for the rest of the season. This one.

The one that barely manages to start from the end of the grid. We can’t seem to catch a break .

Blake appears at my side, his face grim. “Mechanical failure. The engineer says the gearbox gave out.”

Reliability issues.

Driver issues.

Reputation issues.

Are there any issues I haven’t accumulated on this team?

I nod, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Of course it did,” I say, my voice low and bitter. “Why break tradition now?”

As we retreat to the garage, the weight of a hundred eyes presses down on me. Journalists, rival team members, even our own mechanics—all judging my every move.

Some pity me, having just arrived at the team and facing this shitstorm of bad events that not even a bad plot randomizer online could come up with.

Others think it serves me right, because I just took over a Formula 1 team without any experience in the field beyond being the daughter of the great Frederick Colton and having managed some companies outside of this field .

And there’s a small fringe of people waiting for me to break. Waiting for me to come crashing down completely. To see this team stop holding on to that plank of wood from the sinking ship and just… drown and end this misery.

Back at the team’s motorhome, I collapse into the chair at my desk in the impromptu office, the facade crumbling. Blake follows me into the room. “This can’t go on, Blake. We’re a laughingstock.”

He sits across from me, his expression full of concern. “We’re slowly figuring it out, Violet. We will.”

I want to believe him, but the voice of doubt in my head is deafening right now.

“We’re taking too long. The errors and mistakes happen fast, and the improvement is nowhere to be found.

The pressure is immense. The demands are close to impossible to meet.

From where I’m sitting, it looks like I’m a couple of hours away from being sacked by the board of directors.

And worse still? I can’t seem to find a solution for this shitshow.

” I sigh deeply and lower my forehead on the desk.

“Am I really a good Team Principal? I’m starting to wonder. ”

A knock on the door interrupts us. One of our junior marketers approaches us, looking pale and nervous.

“Ms. Colton? There’s… There’s something you should see.”

He hands me his tablet, open to a sports news site. The headline makes my stomach drop:

“ COLTON RACING: FROM CHAMPIONS TO CHUMPS – IS THIS THE END OF AN ERA? ”

I skim the article, each word like a knife twisting in my gut .

Deeper.

And deeper.

Slowly twisting.

Making me aware of every single mistake.

Every single freak accident.

Every single thing I couldn’t control.

Phrases like “unprecedented rise and fall” and “monumental managerial incompetence” jump out at me, feeding my impostor syndrome yet again.

“They’re calling us the plague of the paddock,” I say, my voice hollow. “A cautionary tale for aspiring teams.”

Blake tries to take the tablet, but I wave him off. The junior marketer silently excuses himself, noticing the tension on my face.

I need to see this, to feel the full weight of my failure. This should be fuel to thrive, but deep down, it is destroying me. Eating me. Breaking me.

Making me doubt my skills. My worth. My purpose.

“Remember when drivers used to beg for a seat with us back when Dad was around?” I ask, a mirthless laugh escaping my lips. “Now we can’t even keep the ones we have. How ironic is that?”

I stand abruptly, needing to move, to do something. If I stop, I’ll go crazy. “We have a couple of races left, Blake. Four chances to salvage something from this disaster of a season.”

We need to do everything. Because if we don’t turn this around, there might not be a Colton Racing to save next year. And I won’t be around, that’s for sure.

The boardroom looms before me. I straighten my violet-accented blazer, my mask of professionalism and neutrality on and ready for war, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Silence falls as I enter. Eight pairs of eyes, cold and calculating, track my every move. I stride to the head of the table, my heels clicking like a countdown against the polished floor.

My countdown to being sacked.

This is it. All or nothing. I need to put everything on the line, be bold and show them I’m fully committed to this rebuild. To bring this team back to the top.

This is the gamble of my life, and if I fail… these are my last minutes inside this building. Dad, I’m not failing you.

“Gentlemen,” I say, my voice steady despite the knot in my stomach. “Shall we begin?”

Chairman Reeves—a silver-haired shark in an expensive tailor-made suit, and member of the board since my father’s time—leans forward. “Ms. Colton, I think we all know why we’re here.”

I nod, bracing myself. “I’m aware of our current position—”

“Current position?” Reeves interrupts, his voice sharp. “You mean the complete collapse of a once-great racing dynasty in the blink of an eye? ”

The words sting, but I refuse to flinch. “We’ve faced setbacks, yes, but—”

“Setbacks?” Another board member scoffs. “Kevin abandoning ship close to the end of the season, sponsors fleeing en masse , and a pay driver who can’t finish a single race? That’s not a setback, Ms. Colton. That’s a catastrophe. Bad management.”

Clenching my jaw, I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles white. “I understand your frustration. But I have a plan to—”

“A plan?” Reeves cuts in again. “Like your plan to replace Kevin? How many rejections have you received so far? Ten? Twenty? Who in the paddock hasn’t rejected us?”

Heat floods my cheeks. Every “no” from potential drivers echoes in my mind, a bitter reminder that our team is not ‘hot stuff’ at the moment. No. We’re the furthest thing from that.

“The Colton name used to mean something in this sport,” comments an older board member, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Now, we’re a disgrace.”

I swallow hard, fighting to keep my composure. “My father built this team from nothing. I refuse to let his legacy crumble. I won’t let it crumble.” If not for some creative choices by the previous management, I wouldn’t be taking over a dying team.

It was never my intention to inherit the family business.

Managing companies in the auto industry made me happy.

I am not supposed to be here. Returning to the home that was my Dad’s opened old wounds, making me doubt the skills that once earned me praise as a businesswoman, and for the first time in my life, scaring me .

Still, none of this is an excuse for the streak of freak incidents since I took over.

Reeves leans back, his sharp eyes cold. “Noble sentiments, Ms. Colton. But sentiment doesn’t win races.”

A tense silence falls. Their judgment, disappointment, and distrust weighs heavily on me.

They don’t want me here, leading the charge.

Protecting Colton Racing. But beneath it all, that spark of defiance that made everything go crazy when I was a kid ignites in my chest. I won’t go down without a fight, so let’s gamble.

“You’re right,” I say, my voice low but firm. “Sentiment doesn’t win races. But neither does giving up at the first sign of trouble.”

“ First sign, Ms. Colton? There are already too many signs piling up. One can be something unpredictable. A freak accident, let’s say. Two, possibly a coincidence. But a series of signs? This is on you.”

One by one, I meet each of their gazes. “I’m not here to make excuses.

I’m here to turn this team around. Give me one full season.

It’s been just a couple of months since I joined in the summer.

The boat was already sinking when I took over.

The mistakes were already piling up. But I can turn things around.

I have done so in the past for other companies.

So, I have faith in this team. But we need to be realistic and admit that changes don’t happen in the blink of an eye.

” I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

“If we don’t finish at least 8th in the Constructors’ Championship next season, I’ll step down voluntarily. ”

I just primed myself for disaster. Too ambitious of a goal. Impossible to achieve with how the team currently is. For the board, this will be something easy to accept, because they have the upper hand. They believe without a doubt that I’ll fail.

I’ll prove them wrong, no matter what.

Murmurs ripple through the room. Reeves studies me, his expression unreadable. “And if we refuse?”

I lift my chin. “Then you’ll have to force me out. But remember, gentlemen—I’m still a Colton. This isn’t just a team to me. It’s my birthright.”

If only I had the money to buy out the team… I swear that if everything turns around, I’ll kick their moldy asses out of this room.

No more shareholders.

No more board of directors.