The Underestimated Tycoon

Chapter 8

“Are you crazy? How dare you set your sights on that car?!” Aria interrupted furiously, her beautiful eyes laced with anger.

“Exactly, is that car even something a person like you deserves to drive?” Natalie chimed in.  

"You're just a country bumpkin! I bet you've never even seen such an expensive car in your life before. What makes you think you're worthy of even competing for such a car?!" Natalie asked mockingly, her tone filled with contempt and disdain as she glared at Ethan. 

“It’s fine! There’s no harm in racing for it. After all, it will only be his if he has the ability.” Greg sneered, his grin widening as he cracked his knuckles.

The red custom made Lamborghini Reveulto was one of his three most prized possessions, and he was extremely protective of the car. However, he was so confident of his victory that he bet it without any hesitation. After all, there was no way a country bumpkin and a pauper like Ethan could ever hope to beat him. He was not worried in the slightest that he would lose the bet.

As both parties had agreed to race each other, it didn’t take long for everything to be set up. The engines screamed to life, filling the racing track with a deafening roar. The crowd pressed forward along the railings, excitement vibrating in the air. Floodlights lit up the track, casting a sharp glow over the polished asphalt and illuminating the two cars at the starting line.

On one side was Greg’s Lamborghini Revuelto—sleek, menacing, and unmistakably dominant. The custom matte red paint gleamed under the lights, and the twin turbochargers hissed with power, already building heat.

Next to it sat Ethan’s car.

It was a modest-looking midnight-black Toyota Supra. An older model, clean and tuned, but nowhere near the monster Greg was handling. People in the stands burst into laughter the moment they saw it.

“Is that seriously his car?” someone snorted.

“That thing shouldn’t even be allowed on this track.”

Aria folded her arms, a look of stone-cold indifference on her face. Natalie leaned in, whispering, “I hope he knows what he’s doing. Because right now, it just looks pathetic.”

“It’s obvious that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He was mouthing off Greg earlier and making some big claims, but in the end, he doesn’t even have enough money to rent one of the better sports cars.” Aria sneered.

“I can’t believe you’re engaged to someone so pretentious! It’s a good thing he agreed to race Greg. At the very least, I hope he won’t be shameless, and call off the engagement as agreed.” Natalie added in an unbothered tone. As for the outcome of the race, it was as clear as day that Greg was definitely going to win.

Greg grinned smugly and leaned over to mouth something toward Ethan. “You’re going to regret saying yes.”

Ethan glanced at him, but said nothing in return, simply turning his attention back to his black sports car he rented for a cheap price.

Greg was furious and felt insulted after being ignored by a nobody like Ethan, but he calmed himself and let out a disdainful snort.

“We’ll see how you maintain your attitude after you lose woefully to me.” Greg sneered and turned his attention to the race track.

A few seconds later, the flag dropped.

Greg’s Lamborghini launched forward like a missile, its tires screeching violently against the asphalt, and within seconds, he was tearing around the first bend, the roar of his V12 echoing through the arena. 

The crowd cheered wildly at Greg’s speed, and they were once again convinced of Greg’s victory.

Ethan, on the other hand, didn’t speed right away. Instead, he eased into the accelerator, letting the black Supra roll forward before pushing it gently, almost lazily, around the first curve. The gap between them grew by the second—massive, humiliating. A full fifteen seconds in, and Greg had already vanished from sight.

Boos echoed loudly from the stand, the spectators greatly displeased by Ethan’s lackluster attitude.

“Why’s he even here?”

“I know right. He shouldn’t have bothered agreeing to race Greg if he was going to throw the race in the first place.”

“Pathetic.”

“As expected of a pauper. He should have just stuck to being a country bumpkin.”

“Aria should be embarrassed that she’s engaged to such a pretentious person.”

Still, despite the deafening boos and jeers, Ethan didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, and hands calm on the wheel. He shifted gears smoothly, not forcing the engine, just feeling the car—like a man letting his machine wake up in its own time.

Then in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

By the time Ethan arrived at the third sector of the track, his car suddenly exploded to life.

He shifted into a higher gear, turbo kicking in with a low snarl, and the Supra surged forward with shocking aggression. The crowd fell into stunned silence as Ethan’s driving transformed from cautious to inhumanly precise. He was no longer simply racing—he was performing.

He slid through tight turns with millimetric control, using feints and counter-steers that defied logic. His tires barely kissed the track's edge as he hugged corners most racers would brake for, and his timing was surgical and precise—down to the millisecond.

The spectators both in the stands and the VIP rooms immediately stood up, looks of disbelief and shock on their faces. 

“Wait… what?”

“Is he—?”

“He’s catching up to Greg!”

“He’s insanely fast!”

“Unbelievable! Was he holding back all this time?!” 

The spectators were stunned, and their jaws were open so wide that they almost dropped to the ground.

Sector by sector, Ethan closed the impossible gap. He hit a narrow S-curve that Greg had slowed down for—but instead of braking, Ethan drifted cleanly through it at full speed, a blur of motion and mastery. Gasps erupted from the spectators.

At this point, Greg’s smug grin was long gone, and he was no longer relaxed. He glanced at his rearview mirror—and cursed.

The Supra was right behind him, and it was catching up insanely fast.

He could not help but panic.

“What the hell…” Greg muttered, slamming his foot harder on the gas and urging his car to move faster, but it was too late.

With a calculated flick of the wheel and a sudden shift, Ethan overtook Greg on a razor-thin bend near the final stretch—a maneuver so tight it looked like he had inches to spare. His rear bumper passed Greg’s front with perfect clearance, and then—

He was gone.

Ethan didn’t just win.

He obliterated Greg.

When the timer stopped, the screen flashed the results overhead.

Ethan Blackwell – 7:03:22

Gregory Holden – 11:42:10

The crowd was stunned into silence

Then the arena erupted.

Gasps turned into cheers. Even the loudest critics were now wide-eyed, replaying the overtake on the holographic feed in disbelief. Natalie stood frozen. Aria’s fingers had gone rigid around the railing, her mask of indifference shattered by sheer shock.

Greg pulled in, his fists clenched on the wheel, as he gaped at the large screen displaying the results in utter disbelief.

No matter how much he wanted to deny it, no matter how much he wanted to refute it, the result was there for him to see. There was absolutely nothing he could do but accept the bitter truth. 

The impossible had become possible, and without breaking a sweat, Ethan had won.