Chapter 140 Declaration of War
Myron Curtis casually pocketed his credit card, his expression unfazed.
The onlookers stared at him as if he'd lost his marbles.
It was common knowledge that today's race was a no-brainer, with the racing legend, Peter North, set to blaze across the finish line in a spectacular finish.
This was undoubtedly Peter's one-man show. After all, this wasn't like the international races filled with top-notch drivers.
So did that mean this guy was off his rocker?
["Heroic! That's the man Luann picked. What grandeur!"]
["Oh my... fifty million? Am I seeing things?"]
["Ahem, we get that you're into Luann, but was it necessary to throw that much cash down the drain?"]
["What's the previous guy on about? Maybe our Luann has a shot at winning!"]
["Just tuned into the stream. Did Luann get hitched?"]
Big John was shocked.
Such a massive bet naturally caught the attention of the reporters at the track, who rushed toward Myron Curtis.
"Sir, with Peter North being the highlight of this race, what prompted you to bet on Luann Weaver?" one of them asked.
"Luann Weaver is an accomplished pianist; does she also have some hidden talent in racing?" inquired another.
Bombarded by these rapid-fire questions, Myron Curtis merely responded with a cool composure.
If I don't back my wife, who else should I back?
In the live stream chat:
["Domineering!"]
["Not bad, lol, that answer was bulletproof."]
["So pumped for the race to start. Why hasn't it begun yet?!"]
But this scene was being watched by two women standing not far off.
"Myron Curtis is such a tragic figure, fully backing Luann Weaver, not knowing she's already betrayed him," Ally said, shaking her head in sympathy.
A flicker of envy crossed Juliet Weaver's face, though she maintained a look of woeful concern.
"Yes, sometimes I do feel bad for Mr. Curtis. Our family wasn't very supportive when my sister married him."
At first, people said Mr. Curtis was bad news, but I found out he's actually been pretty good to my sister.
Ally spat out with distaste, "One of these days, I'll make sure Myron Curtis sees her for who she really is!"
"Yeah, so are we heading backstage?"
"No way! Luann Weaver's probably back there too, and I can't stand the sight of her. Makes me sick."
...
Backstage was in utter chaos.
"Fifty million? Holy cow! Luann, your man is throwing around cash like it's monopoly money!" Holly Weiss exclaimed in shock.
She noticed her own stakes were rising too, not as much as Luann Weaver's, but neck and neck with Peter’s.
Holly's face lit up with joy, "Hey, could Alvin be betting on me?"
The thought of Luann’s guy, the one too cheap to even hire a designer, shelling out cash on Holly Weiss was ludicrous.
It had to be Eddy, no doubt about it.
"Luann, if you lose, your prince's fortune will just wash away!"
"You wouldn't have the heart, would you?"
Before Luann could reply, Charlie's teasing voice rang out.
"If you wanna break even, aim for second. But if you wanna win, you gotta come in first."
Luann hummed slowly, "Second it is, then."
Charlie burst into laughter.
"Talking like that, you're ignoring our racing god."
"Right? Aren't you, racing god?"
Peter lifted his head, his impassive gaze swept over Luann's face.
No scorn, no contempt, just as calm as if she were a stranger.
It was a deep-rooted indifference.
An arrogance piled high as a mountain.
But somehow, it wasn't off-putting.
"Pff, when Luann gets serious, she’ll surely beat your so-called racing god!" Holly Weiss couldn't help but retort, looking at Peter.
A flicker of emotion crossed Peter’s face, and he looked back, locking eyes with Luann Weaver.
In his clear, dark eyes was a reflection of clarity and self-assuredness.
Those eyes managed to pique Peter's interest.
If Holly Weiss had the guts to make such a bold claim in front of everyone…
Either she and Luann were fake friends, waiting to see her fail, or Luann really did have the chops.
After thinking for a moment, Peter finally spoke up.
"How about a race?"
Luann's delicate brows arched in intrigue, "If I win, can I touch your car?"
Peter nodded.
"Win against me, and you can name your term."
"Deal."
There were no grand declarations of war between them, yet everyone around could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken anticipation of an imminent showdown.
Charlie, ever the oblivious one, sidled up to Luann Weaver and murmured, "Don't worry, I'll definitely go easy on you, letting you get ahead of me!"
Luann nodded with a smile. "Well, thanks in advance."
"Don't mention it, really."
The organizers soon came over to instruct them to line up on the track. Twenty identical, modified racecars stood silently in the garage.
Finding the car labeled with her name, Luann keyed the ignition on, casually patting the co-pilot's helmet resting on the seat, her face betraying a hint of resignation.
"This is actually my first time at a racecourse like this..."
Next to her, Holly Weiss waved from inside her vehicle, brimming with excitement. "Luann! Go for it!"
Luann replied with her gentle smile, "You too, Holly."
"Right on!"
With that, Holly floored the accelerator, her car shooting forward.
"Hey, take it easy!" Someone cursed from the front, "It's crowded – what if there's a collision?"
Luann didn't hurry. She took a moment to scan the interior of the car before finally resting her hands on the steering wheel. Her actions suggested that of a novice.
Charlie zoomed past her, teasing, "Little sis, I'll be waiting for you on the track!"
Luann Weaver slowly engaged the gears, feeling the intimate connection between her hands and the wheel. Since the racers hadn't brought their personal cars and were using the organization's, there were bound to be some unfamiliar elements.
Adapting was the most important first step; only then could she expect to perform at her best.
Once she was comfortable, she drove leisurely onto the track – the final car to enter the fray.
As a drone came to a hover in front of her, Luann greeted it with a friendly wave. The onlookers surrounding the track erupted in astonishment.
Displayed on the jumbotron, her exceptional beauty still shined through, unbowed by the big screen. The substantial bet placed by Myron Curtis had also done its part, making her known to a good majority of the attendees.
Luann glanced out the window towards the grandstand, searching the sea of faces for that one familiar gaze.
And there it was.
Their eyes met across the distance.
In that fleeting moment, she saw Myron Curtis waving her way.
The speakers cut through the ambient noise with a harsh blast, announcing— "The race will start in five minutes. Attention drivers, please prepare yourselves.”
