"Excuse me, Miss Lim?" said Nathan, his voice low and confident.
Monica was startled, lifting her face. Her eyes, still shimmering with anger, now narrowed warily. "Yes? Can I help you?" she asked, her tone still cold and distant.
"My name is Nathan. I couldn't help but overhear... your difficulties with your driver," he said, choosing his words carefully.
Monica's face flushed. "Did you enjoy the show?" she snapped, her defensiveness high.
"On the contrary," Nathan countered calmly. "I thought it was a waste of an opportunity. And an insult."
Monica hissed. "You know nothing."
"I know that you need a driver. And I know that I can win that race for you," Nathan stated, getting straight to the point.
Monica looked him up and down, taking in his appearance which, though expensively dressed, didn't scream professional race car driver. She let out a short, cynical laugh. "You? Who are you? I don't even know you. You're probably one of Raymond's fans."
"Raymond could never afford me," Nathan replied, and there was a dangerous truth in his voice that made Monica pause. "I'm offering my services. But there's one condition."
Monica crossed her arms. "Of course there is. How much? A hundred million? Two hundred million?"
"Not money," said Nathan, leaning in closer, close enough for her to see the sparks of emotion in his hazel eyes. "I win, you become CEO. And after the celebration... you spend one hot night with me. How about it?"
Monica gasped, her eyes widening. Her anger, which had momentarily subsided, flared back up, mixed with utter shock. "Are you insane? You think I would ever agree to something like that? In your dreams!"
Nathan didn't flinch. "Think, Miss Lim. Your family's legacy. The empire your grandfather built. Will you let Raymond snatch it away just because of your pride? I'm offering you a victory. All I'm asking for is one night of your life. That seems like a pretty fair transaction to me."
"A transaction? You call that a transaction?" Monica hissed, her face crimson.
"What else would you call it?" Nathan asked, coolly. "Your former driver clearly saw it that way. Raymond must have paid him very well. I'm just offering an alternative. But I guarantee a win. He didn't."
His words hit their mark. Monica stared at him, and Nathan could see the battle in her eyes—arrogance versus ambition, anger versus desperation.
"How can I trust you?" she asked finally, her voice weaker. "I know all the professional drivers. And you're not even a pro."
"Schedule a track test. Now. What car will it be? A Ferrari 488 Challenge? A Lamborghini Huracán Super Trofeo? Take me to the track right now, and I'll show you what I can do," Nathan challenged, with an absolute confidence born of his new skills.
His confidence shook her. She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to see into his soul.
"If you're bluffing," she threatened finally, her voice trembling, "if you embarrass me, I will destroy you. Worse than what I'll do to my former driver."
Nathan smiled, a small, cold smile. "And if I win, you will become CEO, and you will fulfill your part of the bargain."
Monica pressed her lips together, then nodded, once, sharp and quick. "Fine. Deal. But the track test first." She pulled out another phone. "Wina! Prepare the car at the circuit. Now! And get the helicopter to the Circuit ready!"
She hung up and glared at Nathan. "This is either the biggest mistake of my life or the best opportunity. Let's find out."
---
An hour later, Nathan stood in the pit lane of the Circuit, wearing a borrowed racing suit. Monica stood next to him, her face still skeptical.
"The car is a Ferrari 488 Challenge Evo," she said, pointing to the gleaming red machine. "You have three laps. Impress me."
Nathan simply nodded. He slid into the cockpit, his hands smoothly fastening his harness, his fingers familiar with the controls. It felt like home.
As he rolled onto the track, something within him shifted. His usually cool and calculating mind merged with the machine.
He was no longer Nathan the miner, using muscle to dig. Now, he was a reincarnated Schumacher.
The first lap was a warm-up, feeling out the car and the track. But even that first lap had the experienced mechanics nodding in appreciation. His lines were perfect, his braking precise. His time was already shattering the team's records.
On the second lap, he opened it up. The Ferrari shot like a rocket down the straight, its brakes flaring at the perfect point before turn-in, and the car slid through the corner at a seemingly impossible speed, with almost no slip.
Monica, watching from the pit wall with high-powered binoculars, her mouth agape. She had been around race cars since she was a child. She knew what she was seeing wasn't the skill of an amateur. It wasn't even the skill of a professional. It was the skill of a maestro.
The third lap was a masterclass. Nathan pushed the car to its absolute limit, the tires screaming but gripping, every movement pure efficiency. His lap time flashed up on the scoreboard.
It was the fastest lap time ever recorded for that car on that circuit, beating the previous record by nearly two seconds.
Nathan brought the car in and rolled to a stop in the pits. As he took off his helmet, his hair was damp with sweat, but his eyes blazed with intense concentration.
Monica approached, her face unable to hide her astonishment. "How... I mean... who are you really?"
"Someone who will win the race for you," Nathan replied, smiling. "Do we have a deal?"
Monica stared at him, and for the first time, the anger in her eyes was replaced by something else—respect, wonder, and a new determination.
"We have a deal," she said, her voice firm. "Win me that inheritance, Nathan. And you will get your... eh... your prize."
She turned and walked away, leaving Nathan standing next to the still-hissing Ferrari, a victorious smile on his face.
Tomorrow's race was no longer about money or a system. It was about proving something—to Monica, to the world, and to himself—that he was the best. And his prize would be the symbol of his other victory.
---
Race day arrived with a mix of tension and glitz. The circuit was transformed into a sea of sponsors, teams, and wealthy fans gathered to watch the battle of the Lim dynasty.
In the paddock, the atmosphere in the two teams was like opposite poles.
On Monica's side, it was quiet and focused. Nathan was already seated in the cockpit of his Ferrari 488 Challenge Evo, his eyes closed, visualizing every corner, every gear shift.
The embedded Schumacher skills pulsed like a second heartbeat, calm and confident.
Monica stood nearby, wearing a fitted team suit, her face a mask of composure, but Nathan could see the tension in her shoulders.
The calm was shattered by a burst of loud, misplaced laughter.
"Well, well, well... my poor cousin!"
Raymond Lim swaggered over, surrounded by yes-men and a burly man in a racing suit emblazoned with the name of a famous driver: "Jean-Pierre Dubois". Dubois looked at Nathan with the typical condescending gaze of a European driver looking down on an Asian counterpart.
"I heard you had to pick up a driver from the streets, Monica?" Raymond sneered, his eyes sweeping over Nathan with disdain. "Is this your plan? To lose with style?"