The Salle Empire at the Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo was an opulent cathedral of gilded moldings, crystal chandeliers dripping with thousand-watt radiance, and the clinking of Baccarat crystal flutes filled with vintage Dom Pérignon. It was the mandatory post-Monaco Prince’s Gala—an annual ritual where the high-octane grit of the paddock was traded for bespoke black-tie tailoring, haute couture gowns, and ruthless backroom corporate politicking. Elena Rossi stood near…
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