They Called Me a Junk Heir, I’m a 3x Champion

Chapter 3

Then I heard other voices speaking up, one after another.

"Mr. Clayton, we're all old pals here, so let's cut to the chase. We think your brother's proposal is solid."

"Yeah, if we keep losing like this, none of us can stick it out much longer."

"Just take a step back, be the boss who sits back and enjoys the good life. Let your brother and his crew handle all the messy stuff."

Everyone was talking over each other, every single one of them pushing for my dad to step down. I couldn't hear my dad say a single word.

I stood up from the couch and crept over to the door c***k to peek inside.

My dad was slumped in his office chair, a long conference table stretched out in front of him, packed with people sitting on both sides. Every single pair of eyes was fixed on him, waiting for his response. His fingers were clamped so tight around a pen that his knuckles had gone white.

Not a single person in that room was on his side.

My sister walked out of the office then, her eyes red-rimmed. She leaned against the corridor wall, taking deep, ragged breaths again and again, just to keep herself from falling apart. Then she spotted me.

"Max, what are you doing here?" She squatted down, forcing a wobbly smile. "It's nothing, just grown-ups having a meeting. Go back to playing your game, okay?" She ruffled my hair, and her hand was shaking like a leaf.

I stared at her red, rimmed eyes, at that fake, forced smile she was forcing on, then darted another look through the c***k in the door at my dad's back, and all those grinning faces surrounding him like predators closing in on their prey.

Screw it. I'm done playing dumb.

I stuffed my phone into my pocket and stood up straight.

"Max?" My sister froze, confused.

I walked right past her, reached out, and shoved the office door open.

One step. That was all it took to walk out of the shadow of the corridor and into the harsh glow of the office lights.

Every single person in the room turned their head to look at me at the exact same time.

Liam was sitting right across from my dad. When he saw me, he curled his lips into that patronizing, cooing smile people use for little kids. "Be a good kid, Max. Grown-ups are in a meeting right now. Run along outside for now."

I didn't even glance at him. I cut straight through the crowd, heading for the bike that had always been sitting behind my dad's desk.

That was the championship bike my dad had raced back in his prime. He'd taken it apart and rebuilt it over and over again, before finally putting it on display in his office as his own spiritual anchor.

Everyone thought that bike was just a dusty old decoration that couldn't run anymore.

Only I knew better. Every single night, long after everyone else had left, my dad would wheel it outside, fire up the engine once, then push it right back in.

I rested my hand on the handlebar.

"Max! What do you think you're doing!" My sister shrieked from the doorway.

I lifted my leg and swung over the seat, the way I moved clean and sharp, not a single wasted motion. The way my legs clamped around the fuel tank? That was a posture only someone who'd logged tens of thousands of laps on a track would fall into naturally.

I twisted the key in the ignition. The engine let out a low, guttural roar. The entire office went dead silent in an instant.

The smile on Liam's face froze solid. "You—" His mouth opened and closed, but the sound that came out was strangled, like someone had their hand wrapped tight around his throat.

I sat perched on the bike, looking down at all those grown-ups circled around the table.

"Liam," I spoke. My voice wasn't loud, but every word cut through the silence crisp and clear, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "Last month, you transferred the commercial authorization for the Southern Circuit project to your brother-in-law's company. That authorization fee went through the team's accounts. The money came in from the sponsors, circled through the accounts once, then landed straight in your brother-in-law's bank account." I stared him dead in the eye. "When are you planning to pay that money back?"

All the color drained from his face in a split second, leaving him as pale as a sheet. He slumped back in his chair, his mouth flapping open and shut like a gasping fish, but not a single sound came out.

Gavin shot to his feet so fast his chair scraped screeching against the floor. "Max Clayton, what the—"

I turned my head and fixed him with a cool stare. "Gavin, do you know why the hosting rights for those two races you were supposed to run next year are under review? Because you cut a deal with the event organizers' audit team and fudged the team's annual safety records. Last year's Northern Endurance Race? One of our cars flipped off the track in the rain, and the driver broke three ribs. But the official accident report? It said he only had 'minor scratches'."

Gavin froze right where he stood, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water right over his head.

The entire office went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone else was nailed to their seats, too stunned to move.

Dad stood behind his desk, his eyes shiny, something unreadable shifting sharply behind them.

I leaned forward on the bike, lowering my voice so only he could hear me. "Dad, open the roller shutter for me."

He stared at me, his lips trembling like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he walked over to the wall and pressed the button.

The metal roller shutter rumbled upward, slow and steady. Bright afternoon sunlight flooded into the room.

I twisted the throttle. The bike roared to life like a beast that had been asleep for eighteen years, letting out a deafening, guttural snarl.

I popped the clutch. And the bike shot forward, bursting out of the office.