Chapter 227: Lets See Who’s The Fastest

The heavy stadium doors swished shut behind us as May and I stepped out from the shadows of the VIP tunnel into the brilliant morning lights of the main track.

May walked right beside me, clad in her sleek athletic jacket, her hands tucked casually into her pockets. Her posture was completely transformed—poised, relaxed, and radiating an effortless, terrifying confidence.

Winny snapped her head toward us, her eyebrows knitting together in immediate frustration as she recognized May’s face.

May looked down at her from the raised track apron, a cool, dangerous little smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, well... looks like we meet one-on-one again, Winny."

Winny’s jaw tightened, but she quickly forced a sneer onto her face, attempting to put up her usual arrogant front. She crossed her arms and threw her shoulders back, gesturing aggressively toward the empty grandstands around them.

"May? What the hell are you doing here?" Winny sneered, pointing a sharp manicured nail toward the exit tunnel. "In case your little brain hasn’t processed it yet, this is a private high-intensity session! My management rented out this entire arena just for me so I don’t have to deal with washed-up track stars hovering around. So take your lonely, finished self and get out of my arena!"

I couldn’t help it—a loud, amused laugh echoed through the vast, empty stadium.

I stepped forward from the shadow, sliding a hand into my pocket as I stood side-by-side with May, looking down at Winny with a smooth, mocking grin.

"Your arena?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your management?"

Winny glared at me, her eyes narrowing. "Who the hell are you supposed to be? Her fan club?"

"I’m the guy who wired the funds thirty minutes ago," I said calmly, letting my voice carry across the dead-silent track. "Your agency didn’t buy out this facility, Winny. I rented this entire place out. Every track, every camera, and every square foot of turf. And the only reason you were allowed through the front gates today... is because May wanted to put you in your place without the media saving you."

Winny’s face instantly drained of color. She looked from me to May, her arrogant expression completely cracking as the realization slammed into her.

Winny’s face went from pale to bright red as pure humiliation set in. "Bullshit!" she snapped, her voice cracking slightly in the cavernous stadium. "You’re lying! My team booked this! My coach literally texted me two minutes ago!"

Snatched by panic, she grabbed her phone off her gym bag on the turf and frantically dialed her coach’s number. She shoved the phone against her ear, pacing back and forth in her spikes.

Ring... ring... ring...

"Pick up, pick up, pick up..." Winny hissed under her breath.

Ring... ring...

"Hi, you’ve reached Coach Vance. Leave a message after the—"

Winny ripped the phone away from her ear, staring at the screen in utter shock. "What the hell?! Why isn’t he answering?!"

I let out a low chuckle, leaning back against the track railing with a relaxed smirk. "Your coach isn’t going to answer any of your calls today, Winny. He’s currently laying in a steaming VIP jacuzzi at the Grand Imperial Spa, getting a deep-tissue massage while sipping vintage champagne on an all-expenses-paid luxury pass."

Winny froze, her eyes going wide as saucers. "W-What...? Spa?! He told me he was in an urgent business meeting!"

"Well, he was lied to by a very generous anonymous donor," I smiled smoothly, tapping my pocket where my wallet sat backed by $1.7 billion. "He took the free day off, the spa package, and the five-figure shopping card without asking a single question. So... nobody is coming to save you today."

Winny looked around the empty, towering arena—the silence suddenly feeling heavy and suffocating. Her junior fan club was locked outside, her coach was knocked out in a spa, and her entire "management buyout" delusion had crumbled into complete dust.

May took a slow step forward, unzipping her athletic jacket with a smooth, effortless motion and letting it drop onto the track behind her.

Clad in her sleek, dark blue competition gear, May tightened her ponytail, stepped onto Lane 5 right beside Winny, and looked at her with dark, blazing eyes.

"No coaches. No media. No excuses," May said softly, her voice cold and steady as steel. "Just you, me, and the track, Winny. Let’s see how fast that world record holder of yours really is."

Winny squared her shoulders, forcing a sharp, arrogant sneer back onto her face as she tried to clutch onto whatever composure she had left.

"You think renting out a track scares me?!" Winny declared loudly, her voice echoing off the empty stands. "You can buy out all the facilities you want, May, but you can’t buy speed! I hold the world record at 9.58 seconds—a time no human on this planet can beat, especially not a washed-up, broken athlete like you! You’re going to lose all over again!"

May didn’t even bother arguing. She didn’t reveal her 9.11-second facility run from yesterday or drop any hints.

Instead, May simply turned her head to look at me, a calm, supremely confident smile playing on her lips. I smiled right back at her, a shared look between us that said everything: Winny was about to get her entire world demolished.

May turned back around, quietly stepping down into the starting blocks on Lane 5. Her eyes locked onto the finish line with pure, lethal focus.

Winny swallowed hard, May’s absolute composure clearly unnerving her. Trembling slightly under the weight of the dead silence, Winny crouched into her starting blocks on Lane 4, her breathing shallow and ragged.

I raised my arm high in the air, stepping into the center lane behind them.

"Runners... on your marks!"

The silence in the massive Horizon Complex grew deafening. May didn’t flinch, her muscles coiled like a high-tension spring.

"Set..."

Winny raised her hips, her knuckles white against the black track.

"GO!" I shouted, bringing my hand down sharply.