Chapter 53

Kimberly frowned at Damon's harsh words. "Damon, can't you say a single kind thing?"

Damon, unbothered, snorted dryly. "Sorry, Mom, but I don't have anything nice to say about her."

Before Kimberly could start lecturing, Noelle interjected. "Damon, that's not fair!"

"Oh! Not fair!" Damon sneered, looking at her with disdain.

Noelle, however, remained serious. "Mom enjoys cooking, and I happen to know how to cook. Teaching her makes her happy, and it ensures the pasta she makes in the future is safe to eat. Isn't that a win-win situation? Why do you call that manipulative?"

Damon's face darkened, and he replied coldly, "Because your motives aren't pure. You're just trying to win them over."

"And why shouldn't I?" Noelle asked, puzzled. "They're my parents too. Is it wrong to make them happy?"

"They're not your parents," Damon snapped through gritted teeth. "You're just trying to force your way into this family so you won't be left out."

Noelle tilted her head, genuinely confused. "Of course I want to fit in. I want everyone to like me. Why is that a problem?"

"Oh, stop pretending. You're trying to take Leia's place. Don't act like you don't know it."

"I'm not trying to take Leia's place." Noelle looked straight into Damon's eyes, unwavering. "I just want everyone to like me. How does that translate to taking Leia's place? Can't we both coexist?"

"Damon, I really don't understand your logic."

Damon tried to argue, but he found himself faltering. Noelle's words made sense—too much sense. It made him look like he was being unreasonable.

No. That couldn't happen. He had to stand firmly by Leia's side. He couldn't let Noelle shake his resolve.

Shaking his head to dispel the doubt, Damon glared at her and snapped, "You're just a scheming woman. There's no way you're sincere."

Noelle raised her eyebrows. "Damon, what makes you say that? What evidence do you have that I'm manipulative?"

Damon stuttered, unable to respond. He had stubbornly convinced himself that Noelle was scheming, yet he had no proof to back it up. Everything she did seemed straightforward, almost like she was a simple-minded fool. Where was the manipulation?

"Well, Damon? Where's your proof?" Noelle pressed on, unrelenting.

"Ugh, enough already!" Damon exclaimed, visibly sweating.

Just then, a staff member knocked on the door and entered. "Damon, are you done? The race is about to start. You need to head out."

Relieved, Damon quickly turned and said, "I'm on my way." With that, he practically fled the reception room.

Since Kimberly and Noelle were Damon's mother and sister, the racing team had arranged VIP seats for them to watch the race.

Despite Damon's earlier turmoil, his undeniable skill shone through during the competition. The race began, and though Damon fell behind briefly, he quickly regained focus. Pushing past his frustrations, he caught up to the first-place driver and overtook them with ease. In the end, he secured the championship with an impressive 15-second lead over the runner-up.

As Damon stepped out of his car, a swarm of reporters descended upon him. In front of the cameras, Damon was a completely different person. Though not exactly warm and friendly, he answered every question the reporters threw at him, without the fiery temper he showed Noelle.

After handling the press, his teammates crowded around him. While everyone knew Damon was skilled, his crushing victory still drew admiration.

"Damon, you're incredible. You're definitely taking the championship at the World League!"

"Yeah, Damon, you're a pain to deal with, but your driving skills are unbeatable. I love you, man!"

"Seriously, is there anyone in the world who can rival Damon? Being unbeatable must be so lonely."

Though he appreciated the compliments, Damon remained grounded. When his teammates started comparing him to a god, he couldn't help but tease, "Alright, that's enough. I'm far from the best. There's still a long way to go before I can claim the title of world's greatest."

"Whoa, whoa, Damon! Is that humility we hear!"

"Come on, you're the best! You've already won the World Racing League championship. If not you, then who else?"

Damon smirked. "Sure, I've won official competitions, but what about the unofficial ones?"

"What do you mean?" someone asked, confused.

Another teammate nudged him. "He's talking about underground racing, dummy."

"Oh, you mean those illegal street races!" Underground racing was a lawless arena, where the only rule was speed. Drivers could use any means necessary to win. Though dangerous and unregulated, the high stakes and massive prize pools attracted top-tier talent.

"Damon, those guys are just reckless daredevils. They're nothing compared to you. If they were that good, they'd be competing in official races," one teammate remarked.

"You don't get it," Damon replied, exasperated. "Official races have strict rules and selection processes. Not everyone can participate. Some of the best drivers are barred from competing and have no choice but to race underground."

Brice, another racer, grinned, slinging an arm around Damon. "Let me guess, you're thinking about that person, aren't you?"

Damon didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes.

The others, still confused, asked, "Who? What person?"

Brice answered, "Someone named Emberling. A year ago, at Fallwood Raceway—the holy ground of illegal racing—Emberling shattered the record, finishing two minutes ahead of the runner-up. No one's come close to breaking that record since."

"Whoa, that sounds impressive," someone murmured.

"It's not just impressive," Damon interjected, his voice heavy with admiration. "It's extraordinary."

"Damon, why are you hyping them up so much? Sure, they might be good compared to others, but if you were there—"

"I'd still be a minute behind," Damon cut in, his gaze distant. "Everyone loves Emberling. When that race happened, it was a big deal. Plenty of official racers tried to beat Emberling's record, but none succeeded. I was one of them. Even with a clear track and no obstacles, I still fell a minute short."

"Holy... turdinsaur," one teammate whispered, finally grasping the magnitude of Emberling's skill.

"Who are they? A man? A woman?" someone asked.

Damon pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

Brice shrugged. "That's the beauty of underground racing. No one asks questions. A fake name is all you need. To this day, no one knows Emberling's identity or even their gender."

"I will find them," Damon said firmly, clenching his fists. "No matter what it takes, I will meet Emberling."

At that moment, a bright, cheerful voice called out, "Damon! Damon!"