Chapter 132
As soon as the words left her lips, Charlotte pulled open the car door and slid inside.
Jason's Mustang had been heavily modified. All the unnecessary interior trim had been stripped out, leaving only two racing seats, a roll cage, and rows of complex gauges.
She quickly adjusted the seat and rearview mirrors, and once she was satisfied everything was in order, she fired up the engine.
Jason watched her smooth, professional movements. Whatever he'd been about to say died in his throat.
On the other side of the track, Douglas winced as his lackeys helped him onto the hood of the Ferrari.
He took a deep breath, his gaze venomous as it locked onto Charlotte in the distance.
"Upton, take her out! People die on the track all the time. It happens."
The man called Upton let out a cold laugh and rolled his wrists.
"Don't worry, Mr. Parker. Dealing with a woman? Piece of cake."
"Today I'm going to teach her what happens when you're too cocky for your own good!"
With that, he climbed into the Ferrari beside him.
Soon, the two specially modified vehicles pulled up side by side at the starting line. The atmosphere grew electric with anticipation.
"She's actually going through with this?"
"I bet she'll wet herself before the first lap's even over!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd at that.
Charlotte tuned it all out.
Her eyes were fixed on the scantily clad woman standing between the two cars.
The woman positioned herself at the midpoint, raising a colorful scarf high in the air.
The instant it dropped, both engines roared to life, tearing through the night as they shot forward.
Charlotte's start was a half-beat slow. Her tires left two black streaks on the pavement.
When Douglas and his crew saw this, they couldn't help bursting into smug laughter.
"Ha! See? I told you—this woman has nothing but good looks! She can't even nail the start, and she thinks she can race!"
Jason's expression darkened as he listened to the mockery, but beneath his grimace lay a deeper worry for Charlotte. His eyes stayed glued to the two cars as they vanished into the distance.
The first lap was relatively smooth, mostly high-speed curves.
Upton relied on the Ferrari's superior performance to maintain a solid lead.
But Charlotte didn't let him pull too far ahead. She stayed right on his tail.
He glanced casually into his rearview mirror, saw the Mustang clinging to his bumper, and smirked as he shifted gears.
Soon they entered the second lap.
Upton used his knowledge of the terrain to his advantage, pulling ahead by five or six car lengths. At this rate, barring any surprises, he'd have the win locked down.
A contemptuous smile curled at the corner of Upton's mouth.
In the latter half of the second lap, the track wound into the mountains. A series of S-curves and elevation changes ramped up the difficulty, forcing both drivers to slow down.
Upton hugged the inside of the track in his Ferrari, minimizing his time loss.
Just as he prepared to clear this section and accelerate again, the Mustang—which had been trailing obediently behind him—suddenly surged forward.
Upton's expression shifted. He immediately shifted gears.
But he was holding back, unwilling to go all-in.
Charlotte seized on that hesitation. Every entry and exit she took was razor-sharp, practically kissing the innermost edge of the curb.
As time wore on, the gap between them shrank.
Finally, on an especially treacherous curve, Charlotte saw her opening.
She braked a fraction of a second later than Upton. It wasn't much, but that tiny difference was enough to close the gap to just two car lengths.
The spectators fell silent.
The rich kids who'd been mocking Charlotte moments ago now wore frozen smiles.
They might not be pros, but they'd seen enough races to recognize that Charlotte's driving was anything but amateur.
In fact, she was damn good.
Upton's easy confidence evaporated, replaced by grim focus.
He stared at the Mustang glued to his rear bumper, sweat beading on his forehead.
Charlotte was a pro. A real, top-tier pro.
"Upton, what the hell are you doing?! Shake her off!" Douglas barked anxiously over the radio.
Upton's irritation flared. "Shut up!"
He gritted his teeth and poured all his focus onto the track ahead.
The next turn was the most dangerous section of the entire mountain road—'Devil's Hairpin.'
It was a nearly 180-degree downhill hairpin with a ten-meter cliff just beyond the outer edge, protected only by a flimsy metal guardrail that might as well have been decorative.
His eyes hardened as he watched the Mustang closing in through his mirror. He took a deep breath.
If he couldn't beat her on skill, he'd have to use other methods.
The moment he made up his mind, he pressed harder on the gas. The Ferrari surged forward.
The two cars streaked down the mountain road like twin threads, barreling toward the curve at 60 mph.
This time, Upton deliberately avoided the inside line, drifting toward the outside—as if conceding defeat and offering her the position.
The instant Charlotte accelerated to cut into the apex, he yanked the wheel hard!
The Ferrari's rear end whipped around like a scorpion's tail, slamming into the side of the black Mustang's nose.
Thud.
A dull crash echoed out. Charlotte's car instantly lost traction, the body spinning out of control toward the cliff-side guardrail.
"Ahh!" Screams erupted from the stands.
"Charlotte!" Jason's face went deathly pale, his eyes wide with horror.
Douglas's face twisted into a savage grin, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee.
In that split second, inside the spinning Mustang, Charlotte's hands gripped the wheel, her gaze locked on the approaching guardrail.
She didn't hit the brakes. Instead, her left foot kicked the clutch, her right foot working heel-toe to rev-match as she downshifted. At the same time, her right hand yanked the handbrake while her left hand whipped the wheel in the opposite direction.
Screeeech—
The tires shrieked against the pavement, throwing sparks in every direction.
Just as the Mustang's nose was about to smash into the guardrail, Charlotte wrenched it back. The car drifted along the barrier, scraping it and sending up a shower of sparks.
Finally, at the cost of a light tap from the rear bumper, she stabilized the car.