The Crestwood Manor showdown had gone from a car flex to a full-on street race, and Ethan Black's $26M Koenigsegg Agera had already humbled Lucas Kane's $15M McLaren P1. Now, Lucas, heir to Kane Enterprises, wasn't backing down, throwing down a new gauntlet: a race to prove his driving chops. "Your Agera's a beast, Black," Lucas said, smirking, "but it doesn't mean you can drive. Pick two even cars, let's race. You win, I'm your hype man—call me for anything, you're the boss. Deal?" His eyes burned with pride; losing the flex-off stung, but his racing skills were his ace.
The Westfield elite buzzed, phones out, X trending #RaceForGlory at 75K likes. "Lucas Kane's a track demon," Jake, the Rolex tech bro, whispered to Mia. "He nearly went pro before his dad yanked him back to boardrooms." Dylan Reed, still stinging from kneeling to Ethan, perked up. "Lucas is my guy," he muttered. "If he smokes Black, I'm back in the game." Nate Carter, Ethan's ride-or-die, leaned into Ethan's ear. "Bro, Lucas is no joke. Top-tier driver in Westfield's rich-kid circuit. You sure about this?"
Ethan grinned, unfazed. "Nate, I've got this." The Monthly Pay $3,000, I'm the World's Richest game had gifted him elite driving skills—Formula 1-level precision, untested until now. Lucas's challenge was the perfect stage to flex. Plus, the game pinged:
[Challenge: Defeat Lucas Kane in a Street Race. Solidify Your Legend.]
[Reward: $10M Cash + Kane Enterprises Stock Tip]
[Accept? Y/N]
Ethan hit Yes, adrenaline spiking. Lucas was Syndicate-linked, per the Chapter 38 alert, and this race wasn't just for clout—it was a power move in Westfield's elite war. "Let's race," Ethan said, shaking Lucas's hand. The crowd erupted, chanting, "Race! Race!" Dylan smirked, whispering to Jake, "Black's toast. Lucas'll lap him." Mia, now Team Ethan, rolled her eyes. "Dylan, your Lambo's still crying. Sit down."
To keep it fair, Ethan and Lucas picked matched cars: Ethan in a $2M Ferrari 488, Lucas in a $2M Lamborghini Huracán. Same specs, no excuses. The crowd piled into SUVs, trailing to Westfield's unofficial race spot—a twisty, deserted canyon road. Drones buzzed overhead, streaming to X, #RaceForGlory hitting 150K likes. "This is straight outta Fast and Furious," Jake hyped, as Ethan and Lucas revved at the start line, engines snarling like caged beasts.
The flag dropped, and both cars shot forward, tires screaming. "Who's taking it?" Mia asked, glued to a drone feed. "Lucas," Jake said. "He's a track shark." Nate shook his head, grinning. "Ethan's got tricks, bet." On the straightaway, they were neck-and-neck, but the first hairpin turn loomed. Lucas hit it with a slick drift, near-perfect, earning gasps. "That's my boy!" Dylan cheered. But Ethan's drift? Flawless—tighter, faster, like he'd hacked the laws of physics. He pulled ahead, leaving Lucas in his dust.
"No way!" Dylan yelped, jaw dropping. The drone feed showed Ethan's Ferrari dancing through turns, each drift a masterclass. Lucas pushed hard, but every corner widened the gap. "Is Black a cyborg?" Mia marveled. By the final turn, Ethan was a full 10 seconds ahead. He crossed the finish line, and the crowd at the end—trust-fund kids and influencers—lost it, chanting, "Money King! Money King!" Lucas rolled in 20 seconds later, face tight but oddly… impressed.
Ethan stepped out, casual as ever, while Lucas parked, shaking his head. The crowd braced for a tantrum—Lucas Kane didn't lose gracefully. But instead, he laughed, striding over to Ethan. "Bro, you're a freaking alien!" he said, grabbing Ethan's hand. "Those drifts? I'm framing that drone footage. You're my idol." The crowd blinked, stunned. "Is Lucas… fangirling?" Jake whispered. Mia giggled, "Yup, Ethan broke him."
Dylan slumped, muttering, "I'm cursed." Nate cackled, "Told ya, Reed. Ethan's untouchable." Lucas, all smiles, slapped Ethan's back. "You're the boss, Black. Need a favor? I'm your guy. Just… teach me that drift, yeah?" Ethan smirked, "Deal. But don't cry when I lap you again." The crowd roared, X clips of Lucas's "idol" moment going viral at 1M views. Ethan's phone pinged:
[Challenge Complete: $10M Credited. Stock Tip: Kane Enterprises Short Sell Incoming.]
Back at the manor, dinner was a vibe—no booze, just mocktails, since everyone drove. Lucas toasted Ethan with a Red Bull, adding him on X with a "Big Bro Black" contact name. Ethan slipped out early, waving off Lucas's pleas to stay. "Gotta roll, Kane. Catch you on the track." As he fired up his Koenigsegg, the Syndicate alert from Chapter 38 lingered—Lucas was tied to Vortex Media, and Vanessa Steele's smear campaign was brewing. Ethan's legend was growing, but so was the target on his back.
The next day, Ethan cruised to Westfield University in his Agera, turning heads in the parking lot. His noon class wrapped at 10 a.m., leaving him free. As he headed out, his phone buzzed—a FaceTime from his cousin, Emma Grayson. "Ethan, you at school?" she asked, voice frantic.
"Yeah, what's up?" Ethan said, dodging a gawking freshman snapping his car.
"It's Olivia Harper," Emma said. "Her USB drive's MIA, and it's got a scholarship essay due in an hour. She thinks she left it at her mom's place. Can you drive her? She was gonna Uber, but your Agera's faster than a SpaceX rocket."
Ethan chuckled. "No prob. I'll swing by the dorms." Olivia Harper, the campus ice queen with a soft side, was Emma's bestie and Ethan's friend since a group project last semester. Helping her out was a no-brainer, plus Emma's matchmaking vibes were loud. Ethan pulled up to the girls' dorm, spotting Olivia in jeans and a hoodie, clutching her phone, stressed. She froze as the Agera's door swung up, mistaking it for some frat bro's pickup attempt. "Back off, dude," she snapped, stepping away.
Ethan lowered the window, grinning. "Olivia, it's me. Hop in."
Olivia's eyes widened. "Ethan? Another car? Are you secretly Tony Stark?"
"Close," he said, revving the engine. "Buckle up, we're on a USB rescue mission."
Olivia slid in, blushing. "Thanks for this. I owe you big."
"Friends don't keep score," Ethan said, peeling out toward Westfield's Crestview Estates, where Olivia's mom lived. "But I'll take a coffee sometime." Olivia laughed, guiding him to a $10M villa, rivaling Ethan's Skyview Heights pad. "Mom's out," she said, unlocking the door. "Wait in the living room, I'll check my room."
Ethan lounged on a plush sofa, eyeing the modern art. Five minutes passed, and Olivia's voice echoed. "Ethan, can you help? Time's tight!" He hesitated—her bedroom? Awkward. "You sure?" he called.
"Yes, move it!" she yelled. "Four minutes left, or my scholarship's toast!"
Ethan jogged upstairs, stepping into Olivia's room—a pink explosion of curtains, bedding, and plushies. "Whoa, Barbie called, she wants her dreamhouse back," he teased. Olivia, rifling through drawers, shot him a look. "Zip it, Black. Find the USB." Ethan scanned the desk—no luck—then opened her closet, muttering, "No peeking, promise." In a jacket pocket, he found it: a tiny blue USB. "This it?"
"Yes!" Olivia squealed, lunging for it. In her excitement, she tackled Ethan into a hug, knocking them onto the bed. "You're a lifesaver!" Ethan froze, Olivia's arms around him, her face inches away. She gasped, realizing, and bolted upright, cheeks flaming. "Oh crap, I-I thought you were Emma for a sec!"
Ethan sat up, grinning. "First guy in your room, huh? I'm honored."
Olivia buried her face in her hands. "Shut up! I'm mortified." She grabbed the USB, darted to her laptop, and emailed the essay with 30 seconds to spare. "Done," she panted, collapsing into a chair. "Ethan, you're my hero. Coffee's on me—forever."
Ethan stood, brushing off the awkwardness. "Deal. But next time, I'm bringing a hazmat suit for all this pink." Olivia laughed, tossing a plushie at him. As they headed back to the Agera, Ethan's phone buzzed—a Syndicate alert: Vortex Media Leak: Vanessa Steele Targets Olivia Harper. Ethan's jaw tightened. Olivia was now in the crosshairs, and Lucas Kane's "radar" comment felt heavier. The game's $10M was nice, but protecting his crew was the real challenge.