"Wow."
Todt had just settled into the sofa, not even having had time to smooth out his jacket, when the word escaped Marchionne's lips in a low, involuntary whisper.
His tone was one of genuine, heartfelt surprise, like a child seeing a beloved new toy.
Here was a man at the pinnacle of his industry, a helmsman wielding immense power, yet he still possessed the unbridled enthusiasm of a young boy. Perhaps it was precisely this passion that allowed him to repeatedly work miracles in the face of adversity.
"Jean, we have to sign him."
Just an hour ago, he had been the one urging Todt to remain calm. Now, the roles were reversed, and Marchionne was showing a rare urgency.
"He has this… I don't know how to describe it."
Marchionne paced around the room, lost in his own thoughts.
"It's not just the instinct to anticipate danger. It's the audacity to explore the absolute limit. It's like watching someone walk a high wire—the spectators below are holding their breath, their palms sweating, but they can't tear their eyes away, desperate to see what happens next."
"Is that what it was like," Marchionne asked, looking at Todt, "watching Senna race?"
Todt, however, remained unhurried, as if savoring a fine cup of tea, though he held nothing in his hands. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the moment. "Are you sure?"
"I'm not," Marchionne answered without hesitation.
Todt was speechless.
"But I am sure," Marchionne continued, "that we cannot miss this opportunity. If we do, we will regret it. One hundred percent."
Todt finally spoke, his tone more measured than before. "Sergio, you know that a simulator test has limited value. A real race car is a different beast entirely. We haven't even put him on a real track yet."
"And besides, we were only testing in F4 mode. Not even F3."
"You know the jump from F4 to F3 is about more than just an extra hundred horsepower. How many young drivers fail every year because they can't handle the step up in aerodynamics?"
"And beyond that, F3 to F2, F2 to F1… that is another long and treacherous journey."
This time, Marchionne didn't argue. He just watched Todt quietly, a smile slowly spreading across his face and reaching his eyes.
Todt looked slightly exasperated. "What?"
"You've already agreed with me in your heart," Marchionne said with a grin.
Todt said nothing.
"Isn't this the entire purpose of the Catfish Effect?" Marchionne pressed. "To break the equilibrium, to create chaos."
"Of course I know F4 is nothing, and a simulator isn't a real car. But we were never just trying to discover one single genius, Jean."
"Even if he ultimately amounts to nothing, the act of signing him today will be enough to turn the entire academy upside down. How do you think those young men will react?"
"Do you think they'll be able to sit still?"
"And of course—"
Marchionne paused, his eyes shining, all traces of old age gone.
"What if he really is the natural-born driver we've been waiting for?"
"Jean, you wouldn't want to see him in a silver or blue race suit in the future, would you?"
Todt immediately held up his hands, drawing a clear line. "I must remain neutral."
As the President of the FIA, offering a few ideas for Ferrari's academy out of personal friendship was one thing; no one would say much. But if he were to interfere in driver transfers, his presidency would be over.
Marchionne grinned, not pushing the point. "The future of Ferrari rests on the shoulders of the youth. We can't keep relying on outside talent. The times have changed. We need to build our own system."
Todt didn't take the bait, refusing to comment on Ferrari's internal affairs. "But, Sergio, even if you're willing, it still depends on the boy's own wishes."
Marchionne froze. "This is Ferrari. What driver doesn't want to join Ferrari?"
Todt raised an eyebrow. "A team that hasn't won a championship in eight years?"
Marchionne rolled his eyes.
Todt chuckled. "The point is, this kid is different. He's not interested in Formula racing."
He then proceeded to tell Marchionne the full story of how he had to "bribe" Kai with a check just to get him to come.
The expression on Marchionne's face was priceless.
Todt leaned back in his chair, boneless, thoroughly enjoying the show. "You should have noticed. The second the trial was over, he was ready to leave. No attachment whatsoever. If you want to keep him, you're going to have to work for it."
"Using a catfish to create chaos is one thing. Recognizing and cultivating true talent, making a visionary, long-term strategic play… that's something else entirely."
"This is a high-stakes gamble. With risk comes, well, risk. You need to decide: how much are you willing to bet?"
A brief silence fell over the office as the two titans' thoughts collided.
But it was clear that Todt's plan had already worked. The entire facility was in turmoil.
A street racer from Asia, personally escorted by Marchionne and Todt, not only gets a special trial but is hailed as a prodigy after just an hour in an F4 simulator, without even touching a real car!
And he's being fast-tracked into the academy!
This driver was already causing a storm before he'd even set foot inside. Once he was officially in, would there be any room left for the other drivers? Would all the resources be funneled to him, leaving everyone else to fight for scraps?
Damn it, is the kid Todt's secret illegitimate son?
When Alesi returned from his morning run and heard the news, he was dumbstruck.
No one understood the power of nepotism and money in motorsport better than he did, because he himself had relied on it to get into Ferrari. His father was the famous F1 driver, Jean Alesi.
In truth, Jean Alesi's career had never reached the absolute peak; he had never won a world championship, with his best results being two third-place finishes in the standings. But his aggressive driving style and charismatic personality had won him legions of fans and built strong connections at the teams he'd driven for—Ferrari, Benetton, Sauber.
So, when Giuliano Alesi chose to follow in his father's footsteps, Jean Alesi's network and resources paved a golden road for him. It was his father's endorsement that got him into the Ferrari Driver Academy and secured him the best resources.
And now, "Todt's illegitimate son" was being brought in with a level of prestige and special treatment that completely overshadowed his own. Did this mean his easy ride was over?
Frustrated, angry, and resentful, Alesi couldn't quite put a name to the emotions churning inside him. It was just a ball of fire raging in his chest. He spun around and began stalking through the facility, completely losing control.
Finally, he found him.
An unfamiliar Asian face, looking like a high school student. There was no mistaking him.
Alesi quickly scanned the area. The kid was alone. His pace quickened, breaking into a run, charging forward like a runaway train as his voice exploded ahead of him.
"Where did a baster like you come from? Crawl back to whatever hole you came from. This isn't a place for a country bumpkin like you."
The word—bastard, illegitimate son, mongrel—a vicious, deeply insulting slur, was unleashed with the full force of his thunderous rage.