Filed to story: Watch Out! She's a Mastermind Heiress (Isabella Patton) Book PDF Free
Isabella was speechless. How did Waylon manage to win the Best Actor award? He was a liar.
Under her scrutinizing gaze, Waylon squirmed, guilt washing over him. “Isabella, I really have to go. You should head back inside!”
“Tell me what’s really going on,” she demanded.
Waylon hesitated, his discomfort palpable. After a pause, he suddenly ran over and clung to Isabella’s leg, pleading, “Isabella, I’ll tell you everything, but you mustn’t tell Mom and Dad—and please, don’t tell our brothers!”
Speechless once more, Isabella couldn’t help but think that Waylon really had no backbone!
“What exactly are you planning to do?” she asked.
“Actually, I’m going… I am going to race with some people.”
“Is there really a need to be so mysterious?” Isabella asked.
“Mom and Dad don’t approve of me racing, especially after I got hurt last time. But this race has been planned for ages, and if I don’t show up, they’ll definitely make fun of me. Plus, our club is barely holding on, so I can’t back out!” Waylon said, frustration clear in his voice. Watching how determined he was, Isabella gave a slight nod.
“Thanks, Isabella. I knew you’d agree. Once I win the prize money, it’s all yours,” Waylon said, his excitement overflowing as he hugged her tightly.
Isabella then made her way to the passenger side, opened the door, and turned to see Waylon staring at her in disbelief. “Well? What are you standing there for? Let’s get going.”
“Hold on, Isabella. You’re coming with me?”
“Yep, unless you want me to tell Mom and Dad what you’re up to.”
Isabella’s words left Waylon with no other choice, and with a sigh, he unwillingly got into the car.
As they drove, Isabella found herself witnessing the same reckless scene as before: cars racing dangerously down the streets, completely ignoring the safety of others.
“Look at those guys racing on the streets. Most of them belong to the LIB Club. They’re arrogant and reckless, responsible for several fatal accidents during their street races. They’re ruthless, but because they come from wealthy families, they always have someone else take the fall while they continue to live it up.” Even though Waylon came from a wealthy family, he couldn’t stand the way these people behaved.
Isabella’s expression grew grim. Racing was supposed to be about feeling the thrill of speed and striving for victory—both personal and for the team. But for these people, it had turned into nothing more than a way to show off their riches.
Before long, the car pulled up to the base of a mountain. This particular mountain was known for racing and its sharp turns and difficult landscape.
“Waylon, there you are! We’ve been waiting for you!” several people stood around the race cars, waiting for Waylon. Their surprise was clear when they spotted the girl sitting in the passenger seat.
“Is that your girlfriend?” one of them asked.
“She’s just a friend,” Waylon replied quickly, his mask hiding much of his face. “Is everyone here?”
“Yeah, we’re all ready and waiting for you.”
“Well, well, it looks like your team is finally complete. I thought for sure you were about to forfeit.” A smug voice echoed from across the road as a few sharply dressed people walked over.
It didn’t take long for Isabella to recognize Jada and Wesley among the group. Jada and Wesley didn’t waste their breath mocking those they deemed beneath them; instead, they simply let their teammates handle the taunting.
Waylon smirked, “You losers really think you can make us quit? Let me remind you, your club’s founder once kneeled before our leader, calling him ‘boss.'”
“Exactly! It’s a joke that you race for a gold digger like him.”
“Or maybe you’re all just like your leader, who pretended to be in love with some rich girl, then dumped her when she got sick, using the money he conned out of her to start this pathetic club of yours.”
Waylon’s team was seething with anger. In only a few brief exchanges, Isabella grasped the longstanding feud between clubs. She had never imagined such underhanded behavior existed in the world of racing.
The WA Club members scoffed arrogantly. One of them said, “It’s all about racing skills now. Our leader’s taken the national championship for three years straight. And look at you—you haven’t even managed to place third. Honestly, a club as weak as yours should just call it quits.”
Although anger bubbled up inside Waylon’s team, none of them could find the words to argue back.
Waylon said sharply, “That’s enough trash talk. I wasn’t around before, but now that I’m here, I’ll make sure to defeat you. Let’s get this race started.”
The opposing team burst out laughing, brimming with disdain. “Same rules as always. Whoever crosses the finish line first wins. The loser? Well, they’ve got to grovel and bark like a dog.”
After that, they wandered off to discuss their strategies. “Jada, Wesley, you both can sit this one out. Just enjoy the show—we’ve got this,” one of them suggested casually.
Jada and Wesley were easily the top racers in their club, especially Jada, whose skills outmatched many of the male drivers, earning her the title of racing goddess.
Wesley shot a quick look at Waylon. “I don’t have anything better to do. I’ll race too, just to guarantee a win. Besides, Ronan hasn’t raced in a while, so we know how his skills are now.”
“Sounds good.” Everyone nodded in agreement.
Over on Waylon’s side, the atmosphere had turned grim. “Do we really have to accept such a degrading bet?” someone muttered. They despised the HB Club but had to admit their opponents were strong.
To make things worse, the club’s cars were far better than what they had. Ever since their boss fell ill, their club had been on a downward spiral. With limited funds, they were stuck racing with standard cars. In racing, a car’s performance can make or break the result. That was the reason their results had been poor over the last few years.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” Isabella assured them.
Waylon took it as personal encouragement. “Yeah, if we don’t believe in ourselves, who will? Let’s give it everything we’ve got. We can win this together!”
They hashed out the details, and Waylon chimed in, “I’ll be your navigator for this one.”
Everyone froze at Isabella’s words, eyes wide with disbelief.
“No chance. Isabella, racing is a wrong move, and you could get hurt. Most people can’t handle those speeds,” Waylon said, his refusal sharp and immediate.
“Then I’ll tell Mom,” Isabella replied.
Waylon’s words caught in his throat as he stared at his sweet, innocent-looking sister. He cursed himself silently for ever bringing her along.
“Relax. I’ll be fine. I won’t get hurt,” Isabella said. Her tone was light but determined.
Waylon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. The last thing he wanted was for their mother to know about this. Reluctantly, he gave in. After all, he knew this track like the back of his hand. He’d raced here a hundred times and trusted his own skills. There was no way he would let anything happen to his sister.
Isabella climbed into the passenger seat beside him, a gleam of excitement in her eyes.
With the crack of a starting gun, the race erupted into action. The roar of engines filled the air as sleek sports cars shot forward, a blur of colors and metal.
The HB Club boasted some of the finest vehicles, and the gap between the cars became obvious within moments. Wesley’s car surged ahead, dominating the track. Jada and some others crowded around the monitor, their faces tense.
“I have no idea what the YM Club members are thinking. Even if Ronan showed up, they wouldn’t stand a chance,” one of the HB Club members said with a sneer, unable to hide his disdain.
Jada lifted her cup, her lips curling into a subtle smirk as she took a slow sip of coffee.
Then something unexpected happened.
Waylon’s car started to inch ahead, slipping past the other HB Club cars until it was running in second place, just a breath behind Wesley’s.
“This Ronan guy is impressive!”
The HB vice-captain was fazed. “No way! Our cars are all ahead of the other cars from their club. I’ll signal Aikin now,” he said, already reaching for his radio. Inside his car, Waylon’s focus was razor-sharp, his eyes locked on Wesley’s taillights.
Wesley had definitely leveled up his game.
Three hundred meters ahead was a sharp right turn. “Isabella calmly announced from the passenger seat.
Waylon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His sister had even seen this track before. How could she possibly know the turns?
“Isabella, be honest. Have you been sneaking out and racing here?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Without missing a beat, Isabella replied, “Now’s not the time for that. A series of tight turns are just ahead.”
Waylon’s lips twisted into a confident smirk. “Alright, sit tight. Drifting is where I shine!”
Isabella barely blinked as Waylon expertly tackled the turn. “Hit the gas, shift to sixth, angle thirty degrees for the next one,” she instructed.
“Are you out of your mind? That’s a hairpin turn! We’ll crash if we go any faster!” Waylon hesitated, his grip tightening on the wheel.
“Trust me; nothing’s going to go wrong.” Isabella’s voice was calm, her eyes locked onto Waylon’s. For reasons he couldn’t explain, her steady gaze made him follow her lead without question.