Chapter 6 Death Race

"What exactly are you getting at?" Sebastian gave Emilia a wary look, suspicion clear in his eyes.

"Death Race," Emilia answered, her tone steady and composed.

A wave of shock rippled through the crowd.

Has she completely lost it? The Death Race was infamous-far deadlier than any standard racing event. Not only did it demand razor-sharp reflexes, but it also required nerves of steel.

Even the entry-level Death Race was brutal. The course was a straight line, but at the finish waited two gasoline barrels.

Racers had to launch themselves down the track, pushing their cars to the limit, but could only hit the brakes once they crossed a specific mark.

Anyone who slowed down too soon was immediately out, while those who dared to get their bumper as close as possible to the gasoline barrels stood the best shot at victory.

There was zero margin for error. Each racer had to calculate perfectly how far their car would keep rolling after the brakes were slammed, thanks to momentum.

A single mistake-stopping too soon or too late-could send them straight to failure or crashing into the barrels, with a fiery disaster waiting.

And that was just the entry round; the more advanced stages were even more dangerous.

Despite the grim odds and the annual toll of lost lives, adrenaline junkies kept lining up for the challenge, unable to resist the call of the Death Race.

The cash prize was so outrageous that people were willing to gamble with their lives just for a shot at it-not to mention the thrill of raking in huge winnings from side bets.

Rodger's expression turned cold. "Have you lost your mind?"

Emilia retorted, "What's wrong, Rodger? You afraid to go up against me?"

Rodger stared at her in stunned outrage, unable to find the words.

How did a woman who spent her days as a housewife get the nerve to challenge a pro-especially in the most dangerous race on the circuit?

Was this some desperate attempt to make him notice her, or was she simply reckless beyond reason?

Did Emilia seriously think she was on the same level as Racer Ace-the living legend of the track? What a joke. Racer Ace was untouchable!

At that moment, Violet slinked up beside Rodger, draping herself over him with an air of fragile tender.

Her voice was soft and dripping with mock concern. "Emilia, you do realize how unpredictable the Death Race is, don't you? Are you trying to punish Rodger by putting your life on the line?"

"Stop your disgusting act. Makes me want to punch your face." Emilia's face darkened with contempt.

Feigned tears welled in Violet's eyes as she looked up at Rodger, her voice trembling. "Rodger..."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, soothing her in gentle tones. "Don't worry, Violet. I'm right here. There's nothing she can do to harm you."

Once Violet seemed calmer, Rodger turned on Emilia with a glare that could have cut glass. "Emilia, you'd better watch yourself. Say one more word against Violet, and I promise you won't get away with it. I'm not playing around. If anything happens to her because of you, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

The fury in Rodger's eyes made it look as if he was ready to go to war for Violet's sake.

"And let's get one thing straight. Don't fool yourself with these ridiculous hopes. There's no world where I'd choose you. Violet is my everything-she always has been, and she always will be."

Rodger's mind flashed back to his youth, to the angelic Violet who had once saved him. In his heart, Violet had always been irreplaceable.

The thought that Emilia might ever take Violet's place was nothing but a fantasy.

Still nestled in Rodger's embrace, Violet shot Emilia a smug, triumphant look.

Emilia could never hold a candle to her. Any man she wanted would always choose her in the end. And she would never let Rodger know that the one who had saved him was actually Emilia.

Rodger, meanwhile, searched Emilia's face, waiting to see her break under the weight of his words.

But her eyes remained clear, betraying nothing. There wasn't a trace of sadness, no hint of turmoil beneath the surface.

Emilia's calm, almost distant attitude unsettled Rodger. It didn't match the memory of the woman who once hung on his every word, who would have done anything just to please him.

For someone who used to love him with her whole heart, Emilia didn't even flinch at his cruelty.

He convinced himself it had to be an act-maybe she was putting on this cool front to get his attention. That had to be it.

The thought reassured Rodger. There was no way Emilia, who'd once adored him, could simply let go.

He decided she must have shown up at the track, feigning indifference, just to draw his eyes back to her.

He believed that her facade would soon shatter, and then she would be begging for him to look at her.

Did Emilia really think she could play these little games and fool him? How laughable. He was certain he could see right through her.

In his mind, she would always be the same-just a housewife stuck in her routines, too ordinary to ever become the kind of woman others admired. There was no chance she'd ever reinvent herself into someone remarkable.

Rodger's imagination conjured up the image of Emilia on her knees, face streaked with tears, begging for a scrap of his affection.

That vision brought a sneer of contempt to his lips as he looked at her.

He was about to unleash another round of cutting words when Emilia's voice cut clean through the tension.

"Enough with the posturing. Do you actually have the guts to face me in the Death Race?" Emilia scoffed, her voice firm and unwavering.

Sebastian chimed in, raising an eyebrow, "What's the bet?"

Emilia met his gaze with a cool smile. "If you lose, I take twenty percent of the Mitchell Group's shares. Not asking too much, am I?"

A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Not too much? Was she out of her mind?

"You've got to be joking. What makes you think you deserve twenty percent of the Mitchell Group?" Sebastian mocked.

"What's the matter, nervous you'll lose?" Emilia retorted. "If you really have no confidence in your brother, Sebastian, you could always bet on me to win."

Sebastian exploded, voice rising, "Don't be ridiculous! Rodger would never lose to you. If I'm placing a bet, it's on him, not you. You're nothing!"

Rodger's gaze turned cold as he regarded Emilia. "Fine. I'll put up twenty percent of the shares. What are you putting on the line?"

Emilia's lips curled in a slow, knowing smile. "A treatment from Asclepius. Does that sound fair enough for you?"