Chapter 92 - 91: Can’t You Say Something Nice?
Harrison Lowell looked at her suspiciously. "Where are we going? You’re not going to harvest my kidney, are you? Or maybe kidnap me and steal the inheritance that’s rightfully mine?"
Yvonne Lowell’s fists clenched. ’He’s surprisingly good at reading between the lines, huh.’
If he weren’t her actual brother, she would have already slugged him.
"What would I want with your kidney or that tiny inheritance? Just tell me if you’re in or out."
Harrison Lowell pushed down on her head. "Alright, I’m in a good mood today. Don’t just talk about going somewhere—I’d go through a mountain of knives and a sea of fire for you."
Yvonne Lowell swatted his hand away in annoyance. "Who asked you to go through a mountain of knives and a sea of fire? We’ll go eat first, then I’ll take you there."
"Then let’s eat at Prosperity Pavilion, shall we?" Harrison Lowell’s eyes lit up, and he started rubbing his hands together gleefully.
Yvonne chuckled. "Fine, wouldn’t want a certain someone to say I’m playing favorites and leaving him out."
Once, she had brought home pastries from Prosperity Pavilion, and Harrison Lowell, who hadn’t been home, found out and threw a fit at her.
Later, while he was away filming, the rest of the family went several more times.
It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but every single time, his other brothers would gloat about it in the group chat.
They had their fun, but her ears were the ones that paid the price.
...
「Emberfall, Leno Racetrack.」
As Harrison Lowell got out of the car, he was momentarily stunned. "Why on earth did you bring me here? And why is it so quiet today? There’s no one around."
This racetrack had been open in Kingsland for seven or eight years, and in the beginning, calling the track "rudimentary" would have been a compliment.
It was just a single, flat loop, and its turns were less thrilling than crossing an intersection.
It was as if someone had just wanted to claim the land, so they plopped down a few lumps of concrete to cordon it off.
Customers lured in by advertising gimmicks were almost all one-time visitors; repeat customers were extremely rare. Naturally, business went from bad to worse.
That is, until two years ago, when the racetrack changed owners, was renamed Leno, and its new management acquired all the surrounding mountains.
Over ten new tracks were built, some of which were full-scale replicas of tracks from major domestic and international racing events. They were divided into five difficulty modes: Very Easy, Easy, Medium, Hard, and Hell.
Customers could choose to drive their own cars on the track or ride in the passenger seat of a track-provided car, driven by a professional for a lap.
The business operated on an annual membership system, and each cardholder could only bring two guests at a time.
Furthermore, without a racing license, you could only choose from the ten tracks in the first three difficulty modes.
Despite this, the place was still packed every day.
This was because even the Medium mode offered three tracks, which were more than thrilling enough for the average person.
In addition, they introduced car stunt shows, which operated on a ticket-based entry system and greatly satisfied the audience’s curiosity for the novel and exotic.
Once its reputation was established, it attracted numerous racing teams of all sizes to rent the venue for off-season training or friendly competitions between teams.
Thus, the area was revitalized, making Leno a minor landmark in Kingsland and a money-burning playground for the many rich kids who flocked there from all over the country.
Nina Jennings draped an arm over Yvonne Lowell’s shoulder and said to him, "We cleared the place out. We brought you here specifically to get crushed by our driving skills."
"Tch, you two? Go ask around. Who in the racing scene doesn’t know my nickname is the Takumi Fujiwara of Kingsland?"
Harrison Lowell shot them a sidelong glance. "Don’t you two go crying to Mom and Dad later, telling them I’m using my seniority to bully you."
"Oh? Well, do you have a racing license?" Nina Jennings shrugged.
Harrison Lowell choked. "I don’t need a piece of paper to prove my skills."
Nina said, "Oh. But Yvonne and I both do."
Harrison Lowell whipped his head toward Yvonne Lowell. "For real?"
Yvonne Lowell crossed her arms and said nothing, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes.
"Hah! So you have a license, so what? What’s the big deal? I just haven’t bothered to get one, it doesn’t mean I can’t pass the test. And even with your licenses, you two still might not be faster than me," Harrison blustered, full of unwarranted confidence.
Nina Jennings jutted her chin toward something behind him. "Oh, but we get to drive on those tracks over there."
Harrison Lowell turned to look. ’Right, right, right. The Hell mode tracks, is it?!’
’Who can’t drive on them?! Uh... oh, right. Me.’
’Damn! That stings!’
Cornered, the "kid" had no choice but to pull rank as the older brother. "What do you mean, ’drive’? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?! Huh?! And you cleared out the whole place? How much did that cost?! With that kind of money, you could have bought your big brother another sports car!!"
Yvonne Lowell raised an eyebrow. Before she could speak, the racetrack’s manager, Yves Miller, walked over. "Boss, you’re here."
Then he turned to Nina Jennings and Harrison Lowell. "Second Young Master Lowell, Miss Jennings, it’s been a while."
"Is everything taken care of?" Yvonne Lowell asked, meeting his gaze and tilting her chin slightly.
"Everything is in order. All the tracks have been cleared. Which one would you like to start with?" Yves Miller asked with a slight bow.
Harrison Lowell was a bit dumbfounded, looking from one person to the other. "Hold on, hold on. Who did you just call ’Boss’?!"
As a qualified manager, his control over his facial expressions was impeccable.
He wouldn’t let his composure slip over any nonsensical question from a guest, unless... the question was simply too stupid.
The smile on Yves Miller’s face froze for a second, but he quickly recovered. "Miss Lowell—that is, your sister—is the owner of our Leno Racetrack."
Harrison Lowell’s expression was hard to describe. He looked at Yvonne Lowell. "So, you were the sucker who bought this place two years ago, and you actually managed to turn it around?"
Yvonne Lowell shot him an annoyed look. "Can’t you ever say something nice? That was me, using my sharp business acumen to seize an opportunity. That’s all."
"Tch! I don’t care how ’sharp’ you are! All I know is you two kept this from me, waiting to see me make a fool of myself! Besides, over the past two years, I—your brother—have spent thirty million on a membership here!"
’Tsk, is being shameless a hereditary trait in the Lowell family? Why is every one of them like this...’
Yvonne Lowell looked at Yves Miller. "You heard him, right? Go ahead and refund our Second Young Master Lowell his thirty million. While you’re at it, give him a lifetime membership. Otherwise, I’ll be hearing about this for the rest of my life."
Yves Miller stifled a laugh. "Yes, Boss. I’ll take care of it."
Harrison Lowell looked away. "Who are you looking down on? It’s not like I can’t afford thirty million. But if you insist on refunding it, then I’ll reluctantly accept."
His act would have been more convincing if one could ignore the corners of his mouth, which were twitching uncontrollably.
"Let’s go. Time to get our gear on. We’ll do a lap in a bit," Yvonne Lowell said, turning to leave.
"Wait, wait, wait..." Harrison Lowell grabbed her, a fawning smile on his face. "Nola, do you think I could maybe run a lap on the Hard or Hell mode track?"