Chapter 6 Proposal to Race

The scene fell silent.

The rich kids closed their eyes in despair.

If Olivia was this ruthless even to John, they—who had nothing to do with any of this—would definitely not escape unscathed.

Hearing the sound of the slap, Samantha felt her own face start to hurt, but she still put on a show of checking John's face.

"John, are you okay?"

Then she looked at Olivia with reproach. "Really, sister, you can't force love. No matter how unwilling you are, you shouldn't hit people."

John felt utterly humiliated, his eyes bloodshot, grinding his teeth. "You dare hit me?!"

"So what if I hit you?" Olivia sneered. "Don't believe it? I can give you another slap."

John's mind went blank.

This woman was too outrageous.

She loved him so much—why would she be so outrageous?

Had she really changed her heart?

No, that was impossible.

She was Olivia, who had adored him for over ten years!

Was it because he'd been too cold to her, so—she wanted to get his attention this way?

With this thought, John wasn't angry anymore.

He glanced at Olivia with contempt and said.

"If you're trying to get my attention this way, that's pretty childish! Looks like I've been too lenient with you before, which is why you're so out of line! I'm giving you one chance—apologize to Jack Smith!"

Olivia felt like throwing up. She was too tired to even mock John's narcissism, and simply said, "No apology. But if you want to stand up for your buddy, how about we race?"

John scoffed, "Racing someone who can't even drive—there's no honor in that."

Meanwhile, Samantha was already very excited.

She desperately wanted to see Olivia embarrass herself, so she tugged on John's sleeve.

"John, maybe sister does know how to drive? She wants to compete with you so you can see her good qualities. Just give her a chance, okay?"

John sneered, "What good qualities could she possibly have?"

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Cut the crap. Sounds like you're scared to race?"

John's expression turned cold.

"Who's scared? I'm just afraid you won't be able to handle losing!"

Olivia sneered, "Who knows who'll lose. Here's the deal—the mountain road behind the school, we'll race for speed."

John frowned, studying Olivia.

"You're getting more and more scheming, but it won't work on me. You're asking for trouble."

Olivia didn't even wait for him to finish before turning and walking away.

John was left standing there, feeling somewhat awkward.

But Samantha was in a good mood and willing to comfort him.

"John, you're usually too cold to sister. I think she's not thinking straight now. Go easy on her later, don't let her lose too badly."

John snorted.

"If she dares to race, she should be ready to lose. Samantha, you're just too kind-hearted."

Half an hour later, the entrance to the mountain road was packed with people.

Black Maybachs, red Ferraris, silver Lamborghinis... Over a dozen luxury cars were parked by the roadside, their emblems gleaming coldly in the sunset.

"Yo, Mr. Collins is here!"

Someone shouted, and the crowd immediately parted.

John drove up in a blue sports car, stopped, and pushed open the door to a chorus of whistles.

He scanned the surroundings, a flash of smugness in his eyes, then lifted his chin at Olivia. "If you admit defeat now, it won't be too embarrassing."

Olivia leaned against her black sports car, her fingers casually tapping the door.

"You just reminded me—what happens if someone loses?"

John said dismissively. "What do you want?"

corner of Olivia's mouth curved up.

"Streak naked."

The crowd instantly erupted.

"What?! Streak naked? Does Olivia have some kind of fetish? She wants to streak herself, right?"

"Actually racing Mr. Collins—we're about to get quite a show!"

John's expression darkened. He looked Olivia up and down and said disdainfully.

"Fine! You're way out of your league!"

After the inspection, both got in their cars.

"Three, two, one, go!"

With the referee's command, John floored the gas pedal.

The sports car roared and shot forward like an arrow.

Olivia didn't move. She just watched the disappearing red taillights, then leisurely adjusted her seat and checked the dashboard.

After a full half minute, she finally pressed the gas pedal.

The sports car moved forward slowly, at about the same speed as cruising through the city.

"What the hell? Is she out for a stroll?"

"And she had the nerve to challenge Mr. Collins to a race? She must be desperate for his attention—totally lost it."

"This is hilarious. Everyone keep a close eye on her—don't let her sneak away after talking so big!"

"Of course! I'm still waiting to see the streaking!"

Jeers rose one after another.

In the viewing area, everyone stared at the big screen, not wanting to miss any potentially embarrassing moment from Olivia.

Meanwhile, at the mountain road entrance not far away, a black luxury car slowly came to a stop.

With the appearance of the gold-embossed "9999" license plate, no one paid attention to the race anymore.

The crowd went wild, with people screaming.

"Wait—that's Mr. Reynolds's car! He's here! We're finally meeting the legend!"

"Mr. Reynolds doesn't usually attend these events. Even if the principal personally invites him, he might not show up. Why would he come?"

"Isn't it obvious? He must be doing Mr. Collins a favor. Didn't he say he has some connection with Mr. Reynolds? It's normal for friends to support each other!"

Frederick was still sitting in the car, recalling his subordinate's report.

The woman was Olivia, a student at St. Monroe International Academy.

What a coincidence—he'd just received an invitation from St. Monroe to watch today's race.

Such a bold woman—he couldn't just let her go like this.

As he pondered, President Brown, who had been waiting outside the car, rushed forward to open the door, his face full of smiles.

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Mr. Reynolds. Your attendance at this race truly brings us infinite honor. The VIP seats have been cleared and reserved just for you. Would you like to go there now, or—"

Frederick's gaze was indifferent, but when he saw that familiar face on the screen, the corner of his mouth curved slightly.

That woman sitting in the car with a lazy expression on her face—wasn't she the woman who had attacked him at the hotel that day?

Those who knew would say she was racing; those who didn't might think she was out enjoying the nice weather.

Frederick's fingertips rested on the car window frame, his eyes taking on a hint of amusement he himself hadn't noticed.

This woman was interesting.