Chapter Text
"Oh, you've gotten so big, my babies," I cooed kissing Oren and Jack.
"I'm not a baby," Jack said, nose wrinkling.
"You'll always be a baby to me, little wolf," I laughed, hugging him close.
It was back to normal as soon as we got back. Bottles to warm, diapers to change and active little boys to keep entertained. It didn't help that the race season had started and I was at home on my own more and more until the two-week breaks.
I had taken up jogging, determined to get back in shape no matter how much Toto liked to grope me and cop a feel.
"You're going to traumatize your children," I scolded as I swatted his hand away from my ass.
"It's right there, schatzi," he whispered. "It's not my fault you have such a wonderful ass."
He'd pouted playfully when he found me doing a HIIT workout.
"I don't know why you're even bothering," he said, standing over me while I tried to do a plank. "I have a way better workout for you."
"You would," I laughed.
"Guaranteed to work up a sweat," he said coaxingly.
How could I resist?
"I'm definitely coming back for another session," I said breathlessly, my body limp on top of his.
It was odd. In a way, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Toto to get tired of me, for the novelty to wear off. But it never happened. He showed Oren so much love and he cherished me more and more every day.
It was perfect.
The other shoe turned out to not be from Toto but the tabloids.
Oren was a little older and Toto wanted to show him Austria now that he had a little more awareness of what was going on, having uttered his first word and taken his first steps.
Mummy.
I tried not to be too smug about it.
Anyway, we decided to go to Austria for the Spielberg Grand Prix. It was all gorgeous rolling hills and we'd taken the opportunity to camp. Well, camping was one way of putting it. Glamping was more like this.
"Sometimes I forget that you're rich but then you do things like this," I said, gesturing at the luxury RV with a laugh. "This isn't camping."
"I'm not sleeping on the floor in a tent," he deadpanned.
"Snob," I teased.
"If you want me to take you over my knee, you can just ask," he said, rolling the sleeves of his team uniform shirt up. I always loved him in the form-fitting Tommy Hilfiger shirt.
"Hmm, maybe later," I whispered, fixing his collar and unbuttoning the top button. "Have I ever told you how good you look in this shirt?"
"You can tell me in the bathroom for the next…fifteen minutes," he said, smiling deviously.
"We're going to be late," I laughed. "Well, I can show up whenever I want because I'm not the boss. You, however…"
"Tease," he grumbled.
It was on the day of FP3 that I decided to head into town with Oren, Jack and Susie. There was a kid's play park that we took the boys to, Jack practically bouncing off the walls while I kept Oren entertained in the toddler-friendly areas. Susie and I must've taken thousands of pictures between us.
We decided to take the boys to get ice cream and we walked leisurely as we ate our ice cream. I shared a cup with Oren, his mouth messy as he hummed happily and clapped in his papoose.
It was while we were walking that we passed a newspaper stand in front of a convenience store. Ordinarily, I paid no mind but it was the headline on The Sun that made me pause.
You Sly Dog: Exactly How Many Pups does Wolff Have?
My heart sank.
"Ongie?" Susie asked. "What's wrong?"
I didn't respond, snatching the newspaper and flipping to the story.
Torger 'Toto' Wolff is arguably one of the most successful and powerful men in Formula 1. So powerful that he's been keeping a harem right under our noses, like many powerful men before him.
"Oh, my god," I breathed. "They know, how do they know?"
Susie had picked up her own copy, her face paling as she read.
"Oh, dear…"
As we saw at the Monaco Grand Prix, the Wolff family had welcomed a new addition; the baby boy of their au pair and good friend, Ongezwa Matshaka. No one thought much of it until a nurse from a Monaco hospital revealed that our very own Toto Wolff is listed as the baby's father! Who would've thought?
They'd even inserted a picture of Susie and I, arm in arm while Toto walked beside us, frowning at the sun in his eyes while he was on a call. Sisterwives, huh?
In fact, Toto was present for the birth, supporting Ms Matshaka the whole way through. Like any good friend. Or lover…
And here we thought that the 2021 Abu Dhabi would be our last scandal.
The Sun was unable to reach Wolff for comment.
"What do we do?" I asked shakily.
Susie sighed, putting the newspaper back.
"Nothing," she shrugged, hooking my arm in hers as we kept walking. "It's The Sun. Who on earth pays attention to The Sun?"
"Lots of people," I said softly.
"They have no proof," she shrugged. "Unless they can get a copy of Oren's birth certificate, it's hearsay and gossip. Even if they can, it's easily explained away."
"How?" I said, my panic slowly draining away.
"We could just say that as far as we were concerned, you're family," she said. "And we didn't want your baby to have a blank where the father should be."
"Right, right," I breathed, trying to calm down.
"We'll get through this," Susie said softly. "Together."
"Together."
***
It came up at press conferences and Toto simply looked at whoever asked the question like they were stupid, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.
I know that this is the circus but come on. I'm here to talk about racing.
Some wondered why he hadn't put out a statement. He just gave that same unimpressed withering glare.
Why would I dignify anything from The Sun with a response?
You think I'm gonna give you a headline? I won't.
As I've always said, I do my talking on the track. The honesty of the stopwatch is what I'm interested in. Not tabloids.
I avoided races for a while, only occasionally popping in when the race was already underway and the attention was on the track.
"Ongie is family, and so is her baby. Simple as that," Toto shrugged. "I don't understand why this is such a topic of conversation."
Slowly journalists grew embarrassed asking at press conferences. Especially when fans started lambasting them on Twitter for cheapening the sport to mindless gossip instead of actually talking about racing. Toto grew increasingly popular for pointing out how annoying it was that tabloid journalists were manufacturing news. Of course, there were the obligatory memes calling Toto an "absolute Chad" for having two wives. Allegedly.
Of course, there was the occasional teasing jab from Christian Horner but I once caught him giving me the once over before nodding to himself, looking almost impressed.
Well.
The last I saw of the matter was a Twitter thread from a Lewis Hamilton fan account declaring that it was no one's business either way and that they were sick of talking about it.
And just like that, I was old news.
It would probably make a riveting episode of Drive to Survive, though.
I was relieved. I didn't feel so observed anymore. I felt like I could breathe. Life went on. Another season approached.
But Toto didn't look happy. He looked troubled.
"Are you having- You look troubled. Did something happen?" I asked one night while we lay together, clothed and composed. Toto wasn't in the mood and I didn't push. He looked like he wanted to talk.
"I keep thinking about how things were in the beginning," he said. "You said you didn't want to hide. You didn't want to be something to fuck when the cameras aren't rolling."
"Toto, I know you love me," I said earnestly. "I don't need the world to know. I know because you show me every day. I'm happy."
"I'm not happy," he frowned. "I don't want to treat you like a dirty secret. Like I'm ashamed of you when I'm not."
"Babe," I said softly, cradling his face. "Realistically speaking…we just can't. It could ruin you. It could ruin everything."
He was quiet for a moment.
"We're hopefully on our way to a tenth constructor's Championship," he said thoughtfully, tracing circles into my arm. "Good time to retire, no?"
"What?" I gasped. "But the team-"
"I have led this team for a long time," he sighed. "It was a privilege and a joy but it was also a sacrifice. Valterri once told me…sometimes you have to be selfish."
"I hope you don't feel like- like I'm forcing you to do this," I said softly. "I mean, Toto, you love racing-"
"No, schatzi, I love you," he chuckled tiredly. "I just know what I want. I'll probably still invest in Mercedes but I want to be around for my boys and for my ladies. Now is the right time."
I was worried but I kissed him, letting him know that I would support him no matter what.
Susie was offered the opportunity to replace Toto in Formula 1 a Mercedes team principal and she accepted now that Toto was stepping down and there was room for her to show how amazing she was independently. The team was in safe hands and Toto looked less troubled.
When it came to the final race of the year in Abu Dhabi and Lewis crossed the checkered flag, securing a driver's and constructor's Championship, the entire garage erupted. Cheers and whoops went up with thunderous applause, fireworks going off outside. Toto was pumping his fists and hugged Susie, spinning her around and kissing her.
And then he turned to me, cradled my face in his hands before drawing me into a deep kiss. I had my hand on his wrist but I was weak to his thrall. It didn't matter whether anyone saw, they probably did.
No more hiding. Just a kiss and distant fireworks.