The crowd burst into cheers. "Number 7! Number 7! Number 7 is a beast!"
The audience went nuts, and even Wilson was stunned. He could believe his eyes. Did that actually happen?
Noelle just shut David and his crew down all by herself. She even put him in his place and won first place.
Raymond and his men met Noelle and Alexis with flowers the moment they got out of the car to celebrate her win. She really made him look good in that all-or-nothing game.
He remarked, "I knew I was right about you, Number 7."
His voice was full of pride. Her skills were even better than he'd ever imagined.
Noelle sported a faint smile and looked David's way.
David wasn't hurt, but the impact made him wobble. His crew had to help him out of his car, making him look utterly pathetic—like a beaten dog with its tail between its legs.
He took off his helmet and shot them a cold, hard look.
Wilson couldn't resist running his mouth. "You agreed to the extra terms, Mr. Anderson. We're all waiting for your big nude performance."
Snickers and laughs came from the rich brats surrounding them. With a venomous glare, David looked straight past Wilson and met Noelle's gaze.
David shoved his friends aside and stumbled over to where Noelle stood.
Raymond instinctively stepped in front of Noelle, but she held his arm and said calmly, "Relax. He isn't going to try anything."
He shot David a warning look before finally moving out of the way.
David fixed his gaze on Noelle, his tone unhinged. "Who the hell are you?"
No ordinary racer could break free that easily in a situation like that and counterattack. Since when did someone like that emerge in the local scene?
Noelle giggled. "Was that important? What matters is that you lost, Mr. Anderson."
David clenched his jaw. His friend, Chris Turner, cut in. "Your ride is definitely rigged. You must have installed something illegal."
How else could Noelle pull off that kind of speed and cornering?
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