Harem Investment System: Getting Money And Women-Chapter 193: A Racer’s Resolve (II)

She had encountered plenty of racers in her time, but this? This was just annoying.

The Mustang driver, a woman with short, spiky black hair and an oversized pair of sunglasses, threw her a cocky grin as she pulled up beside her.

Vanessa didn't need to hear what she was saying — her smug expression said it all.

"You think you're fast? Try keeping up with me."

Vanessa narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, it's on."

The announcer's voice crackled over the speakers.

"And just like that, we're heading into the second lap! But look at this! The red Mustang is closing in fast! We've got ourselves a real battle now!"

The first challenge of the second lap came in the form of a brutal series of sharp turns — tighter and faster than anything on the first lap.

If a driver wasn't careful, they'd either overshoot and hit the barriers or slow down too much and lose momentum.

The Mustang driver took the first turn aggressively, nearly clipping Vanessa's front bumper in the process.

Vanessa scowled.

'Oh, she wants to play dirty?'

Fine.

She let the Mustang take the lead for just a second before positioning herself perfectly for the next turn.

As the Mustang driver oversteered slightly, Vanessa cut in from the inside, reclaiming her lead with precise handling.

For a second, there was silence.

Then, from the Mustang, a loud, dramatic honk-honk!

Vanessa's eye twitched.

Was this woman seriously using her horn to complain during a race?!

She barely had time to react before the Mustang surged forward again, its driver cranking up the music even louder.

Vanessa could feel the bass vibrating through her own car.

"Oh, for f — " she muttered under her breath, gripping the wheel tighter.

The two cars were neck and neck as they hit the next stretch, a deceptively simple-looking straightaway that had one major catch — a hidden dip halfway through.

If a driver wasn't careful, their car would go airborne for a split second, completely throwing off their handling.

As Vanessa carefully adjusted her speed, the Mustang hit the dip at full force.

For a moment, all four of its tires lifted off the ground.

Vanessa smirked.

'Got you.'

The second the Mustang landed, its back tires wobbled slightly. It wasn't a big mistake, but it was enough.

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Vanessa seized the opportunity, shifting gears and launching forward while the Mustang struggled to regain control.

"Nice try," she muttered, a victorious grin spreading across her face.

But just as she thought she had put some distance between them, the Mustang suddenly appeared in her side mirror again.

Vanessa's grin faltered.

'What the hell?'

The woman in the Mustang was laughing. She loved the challenge.

Vanessa had to admit, she kind of respected that.

That didn't mean she wasn't going to leave her in the dust.

For the next several minutes, the two of them battled fiercely.

Every turn, every straightaway, every opportunity was a back-and-forth struggle.

Vanessa would take the lead.

Then the Mustang would reclaim it.

Then Vanessa would snatch it back.

Neither of them held back, pushing their cars — and themselves — to the absolute limit.

The announcer was practically losing his mind.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is what racing is all about! The Ferrari and the Mustang are putting on a clinic here! Look at them go!"

Up in the stands, Ethan had long since stopped eating his popcorn. His eyes were glued to the track.

The two middle-aged women beside him were just as invested.

"That Mustang driver's crazy," one of them whispered.

"And Ferrari's driver is insane for keeping up with her," the other replied.

They were approaching the final stretch of the second lap, and Vanessa could feel it — the Mustang driver was getting desperate.

Vanessa had been testing her the whole time, figuring out her weaknesses.

And now, she saw it.

The Mustang driver was reckless.

Talented? Absolutely. But reckless.

She pushed too hard in tight situations, relied too much on raw aggression instead of strategy.

Vanessa knew exactly how to use that against her.

The final turn before the finish line was deceptively tricky. If you forced your way through it, you'd either go too wide or lose too much speed.

Vanessa played it smooth.

The Mustang driver?

She tried to force her way through.

And that's when it happened.

Her back tires slipped.

Just for a second.

But in racing, a second was everything.

The Mustang spun out.

It wasn't a huge crash — she didn't hit anything — but it was enough to send her careening off track.

The announcer practically screamed into the mic.

"And she's OUT! The Mustang spins out at the worst possible moment! That's it! That's the opening Vanessa needed!"

Vanessa didn't even look back.

She crossed the finish line, officially ending the second lap.

The Mustang driver, now sitting sideways on the track, let out a long, frustrated groan before slamming her hands on the wheel.

Vanessa finally glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

The woman sighed, yanked off her sunglasses, and gave Vanessa a begrudging thumbs-up.

Vanessa smirked and returned the gesture.

'One more lap to go.'

Vanessa had expected the third lap to be smooth sailing.

She had already beaten the toughest competitor in the last round — the cocky Mustang driver who had almost sent her eardrums to an early grave with that blaring music.

Now, with no one else able to match her speed, this lap was hers to dominate.

Or so she thought.

She was barely a quarter into the lap when her instincts screamed at her.

Something was definitely wrong.

Then she saw it.

A dark blue muscle car barreling toward her from behind.

Before she could react, the car swerved toward her, nearly slamming into her side.

Vanessa barely had time to yank her wheel, her tires screeching in protest as she dodged at the last second.

The announcer's voice exploded over the speakers.

"What in the hell was that?! That driver came out of nowhere! That was a blatant attempt to — wait, wait! He's going in again!"

Vanessa's heart pounded as she shifted gears, forcing herself forward, but the blue car wasn't backing off.

This wasn't just some aggressive driving.

This guy was trying to crash her.

Her grip on the wheel tightened.

'Oh, so that's how it is?'

If he wanted a war, he was going to get one.