My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage by Eva Blackwood

Chapter 742

Chapter 742:

Dariel’s smirk didn’t falter.

“You're thinking too much. Just focus on the race. Worrying about Arion’s safety won't help you win.

Think about how they'll gloat if you lose. Do you really want to give them the satisfaction?”

For a moment, Torrie hesitated, her grip on the wheel faltering. But Dariel’s final words struck a nerve. Her jaw

clenched, and a fierce determination flared in her eyes.

Upstairs, in a private lounge overlooking the racetrack, Kristopher stood by the window, his sharp eyes fixed on

the cars speeding down the track.

“Have you found out which room Carrie is in?” Kristopher asked, his voice low and clipped.

Oliver, standing stiffly behind him, wiped at the sweat forming on his brow.

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“She’s two rooms away from us... but she’s already gone downstairs. Arion and Torrie are racing.” Oliver

hesitated, then added nervously, “And... it looks like Ms. Campbell is Arion’s co-driver.”

At those words, Kristopher turned sharply, his expression darkening like an impending storm. Oliver stepped

closer to the balcony and pointed.

“That yellow car... Ms. Campbell is in it.”

Kristopher’s jaw tightened, his body stiff with tension. Without another word, he turned and headed for the door.

“Mr. Norris, wait!” Oliver called, hurrying after him.

“If you keep interfering like this, Ms. Campbell is going to be angry.”

Kristopher ignored him and strode out, his voice cold and decisive.

“The tires on that car haven't been modified. Arion drives like a street racer. If he keeps putting pressure on one

side of the tires, they'll blow out before the race ends.”

Kristopher took the stairs two at a time, moving with urgency.

Downstairs, a race car screeched to a halt near the pits.

The driver climbed out, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Kristopher marched over to the car, grabbed the driver by the collar, and shoved him aside.

“Hey! Are you crazy?” the driver yelled, staggering back in surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Without sparing him a glance, Kristopher slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door.

The driver stormed toward him, furious.

Oliver caught up just in time, panting slightly. He quickly pulled out a thick wad of cash from his pocket and

shoved it into the driver's hands.

“My boss needs to borrow your car urgently,” Oliver said hurriedly.

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“This should cover any inconvenience.”

The driver looked down at the cash, his anger unabated.

Ten thousand dollars.

“Do you know how much this car is worth? You think I'm going to let you take it for pocket change?”

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