In the VIP seats, Charles Smith wore a dark-patterned suit, his slender fingers gently tapping on the armrest.
Sunlight poured over his sharply defined profile, the amber eyes reflecting a cold gleam in the light.
"Secretary-General Smith, Carter Automotive is finished this ti!"
Chu Shaw crossed his legs, his flamboyant wine-red suit glaring in the sunlight.
He puffed on a cigar, blowing smoke rings smugly.
"That kid Faye Manor got into a car accident halfway. Ten billion! I’ve really hit the jackpot this ti!"
Charles Smith’s tapping on the armrest suddenly stopped, his brows slightly furrowed,
"You arranged this?" His voice was as cold as ice.
"I did it for Imperial Motors and you!"
Chu Shaw nonchalantly flicked off the ash, a frivolous smile on his face.
"Slap!"
A loud slap suddenly landed on Chu Shaw’s face, knocking the cigar from his mouth.
Chu Shaw recoiled, clutching his face.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Chu Shaw raged, his ticulously styled hair now disheveled, a bright red handprint swelling on his left cheek.
Charles Smith leisurely pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands, his gaze ominous,
"Even a cornered dog will jump over the wall. Forcing Carlos into a tight spot won’t benefit you."
He leaned closer to Chu Shaw’s ear, his voice gentle yet chilling,
"Next ti you act on your own, it won’t be just a slap."
On the racetrack, the roar of engines was deafening.
Emily Parker watched Carlos swiftly take off his suit jacket, revealing the fitted black shirt underneath.
The sunlight outlined his muscular back, with the contours of his muscles faintly visible under the tight fabric as he donned Faye Manor’s racing suit.
"Carlos!" Emily grabbed his arm, her voice trembling.
She wore a light blue maternity dress today, her rounded belly noticeably prominent in the sunlight.
Carlos turned, his slender fingers gently stroking her cheek. He was without a tie today, his shirt collar open revealing his sexy collarbone.
In the sunlight, his deep-set features were especially clear: "Faye Manor said we mustn’t forfeit."
"But..." Emily’s gaze flicked to the cyan racecar, her throat tightening.
Suddenly, Carlos cupped her nape, giving her a deep kiss. As they parted, he whispered, "Trust ."
As the signal lights flashed, twenty cars shot forth like arrows from a bow.
The cyan car driven by Carlos glimred coldly in the sun, the bold "Carter Automotive" on its body particularly striking.
"Damn!" Chu Shaw sprang from his seat, nearly tipping over his wineglass.
He stared wide-eyed at the big screen: "That kid is actually keeping up with Nick Young?"
Charles Smith maintained his elegant posture, but his knuckles were white.
He squinted at the big screen, watching Carlos’s car execute a beautiful drift and overtake Nick Young in the third lap.
"Impossible!" Chu Shaw frantically tore off his tie, cold sweat beading on his forehead: "My dad will kill ...ten billion..."
Charles Smith suddenly chuckled softly, leisurely adjusting his cufflinks: "He won’t win."
Chu Shaw jerked his head around, seeing the strange smile on Charles Smith’s lips, suddenly realizing: "You... you tampered with the car?"
Charles Smith did not reply, only sipping champagne. The sunlight glinted off his expensive watch, reflecting a chilly glow.
In the final lap, Carlos’s car swerved wildly but didn’t slow down.
She saw Carlos’s tense jawline in the cockpit, his vein-popping wrist firmly gripping the steering wheel.
The car sliced through the final turn at an incredible angle, punctuated by the screeching tires, executing a perfect drift across the finish line!
Amidst the thunderous cheers, Carlos pushed open the car door and took off his helt.
Sweat dripped from his angular jaw, his black hair ssily clinging to his forehead.
He looked up to Emily on the stands, a victorious smile curling at his lips.
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