Chapter 555: Beautiful Berlin
Berlin, Germany.
On Race Day, while Luca was lining up in P4 on the Belgian grid with the roar of engines around him, his girlfriend was already miles away from London, having landed in Berlin days earlier.
Clearly, Luca wasn’t aware that Isabella was in Germany, nor was anyone else in fact. Only one person knew, and that was Mrs. Rennick, who alone was privy to Isabella’s quiet journey and the purpose behind it.
Mrs. Rennick understood Isabella’s general objective well enough, but she wasn’t entirely certain of the exact plans the young woman had laid out. What kind of plans would take her to Berlin?
Whatever it was, it was making her too excited, her eyes alight with determination, and this influenced Mrs. Rennick, making her just as enthusiastic too.
Mrs. Rennick even had to hush Isabella at one point when her excitement nearly drove her to spill everything out loud just for the relief of sharing it.
Gently, Isabella was reminded that speaking too soon before anything was achieved, could sap the energy from her efforts and lessen her chances of success.
Understanding the wisdom in Mrs. Rennick’s words, Isabella replied with a nod, carrying on silently. That was how she eventually found herself settled in an elegant hotel in Mitte, the city’s modern heart.
The first day was a warm morning. Isabella woke up from a deep, satisfying sleep, which was strange because those kinds of sleep only happened at home.
With a steaming cup of coffee, Isabella stood at her window and took in the sight of the district.
Mitte was the most modern part of Berlin, and possibly throughout the entire country. Many referred to it as the Old Berlin because it literally contained remnants of the Old Berlin like the Nikolaiviertel, a small quarter of several medieval buildings from about 1200.
The district had numerous landmarks.
Even from where she stood at her window, Isabella could see the Brandenburger Tor at the horizon and the emerald statue horses.
The thing with these landmarks was that most of them were now colonized by the nation’s love for F1 motorsport, or more specifically, their obsession with the fabulous Luca Rennick.
During her coffee session, Isabella grumbled at the hot drink as she remembered how massive banners and posters of Luca cloaked the entire Alexanderplatz when she arrived by taxi.
She was half-proud. Half-overwhelmed. Half-jealous...?
Luca was basically everything to Germany now. He was no longer a racer, but a national emblem, plastered across train stations, shopping streets, and malls, celebrated with the same reverence meant for historic and cultural figures.
Finding herself in Germany, Isabella saw that Luca was adored, absorbed into the identity of the country’s sport, and belonged more to the world than to her.
If this was the case, Isabella didn’t want to be left behind in the shadow of this still-growing greatness. If Luca was becoming part of the world, then she too had to find a way to stake her place in that world, and not as a spectator.
Laura Brahms and her family dwelled in one of the most exclusive neighbourhoods in the city—Grunewald. It was a nice residential district, heavily forested though, but the people had made do with the green areas for recreational activities.
From Mitte to Grunewald was a half-hour drive, and Isabella was pretty much ready for it.
Would her host even accept her? Would Laura, a woman who had distanced herself from almost everyone since Ansel’s death, open doors to a stranger?
Isabella understood the chances of the Brahms family opening their door to a complete stranger were close to zero, which was exactly why she had prepared well in advance.
Day after day she reached out, carefully wording her attempts until they shifted from intrusion to familiarism.
None of this would have been possible without her logistic ally, Manuela, so Isabella gave her the credit.
Isabella framed herself to Laura over SMS as an old primary school classmate before life swept them in different directions.
She explained she had been trying to reconnect ever since hearing the misfortunes Laura had endured, her words carrying the mix of warmth and distance that made the story believable enough to lower Laura’s guard.
Since Isabella’s surname was Schäfer, a German name through and through, Laura believed the connection was genuine. Eventually, the young mother forwarded her Grunewald address to this anonymous old classmate.
It was safe to say it wasn’t really the name detail that unlocked Laura, but the weight of her own crafted loneliness.
Months of isolation, shutting out every visitor and well-wisher, had left her hollow and restless. So, she had begun to open up once again, day by day. By the time Isabella reached her, Laura was already bending toward recovery, fragile yet yearning for some semblance of normal interaction again.
Hence, Isabella’s timing was incredibly lucky.
On her second day in Berlin, Isabella spent most of the morning working indoors from her hotel room before she wandered into the Altes Museum for a little tourism.
By evening, she spectated the Belgian GP qualifiers on TV, watching the savagery of Antonio Luigi that got him to P2, Jimmy Damgaard’s masterclass of pole, and Luca’s P4 qualifying that left everyone grumbling.
By the time the sun rose on her third day, all the distractions were over, and the real purpose of her trip materialized atop the action list. Isabella Schäfer was set to meet Laura Brahms.
As expected, the drive took just about half an hour, carrying Isabella from the urban core into a quieter, greener expanse.
Grunewald was nothing like the metropolis; it was calm, lazy, populated by trees more than buildings, having the essence of old wealth and prestige.
Isabella counted countless villas along the way, and opulent bungalows and duplexes between them. The ride felt like a parade of modest wealth, each turn revealing beautiful lakes and more manicured forest until finally, the car slowed at the exact address she gave.
Stepping out of the car, Isabella was welcomed by the bright chirping of birds and rustling of big leaves, while the sun poured down warm rays that blanketed her skin.
From what she saw, Isabella had no doubt that this was the perfect place for Laura to raise a child. The neighborhood looked like something straight out of a child’s imagination!
Safe, serene, and almost enchanted, it was the kind of environment where innocence could flourish untouched.
She thanked her driver before the car rolled away, leaving her alone in the gentle hum of Grunewald. Drawing a steadying breath, Isabella crossed the quiet one-way street toward the house listed in Laura’s address.
It was a milk-colored duplex, framed with blooming gardens on either side. At its center stood a polished mahogany front door.
Seeing no doorbell, Isabella reached for the brass lion head knocker, making use of it.
It took only a couple of seconds before the stillness in the house was filled with shuffled movements Isabella could hear.
Moments later, the door opened. The person who appeared looked startlingly young to be a mother, though an infant was nestled in her arms.
"Oh, hello....." the girl greeted politely with a bright face.
Isabella’s lips curved into a very, very soft smile, almost shy in its gentleness, and she replied, "Helloooo."