The roar of the engines at the Swift Racing Circuit was deafening, a primal scream of metal and rubber against the sun-baked asphalt. Sarah Vance suddenly slammed her foot onto the accelerator, her Ferrari tearing through the gates like a red streak of lightning. Dust billowed in massive, suffocating clouds, obscuring the horizon as the track staff stood frozen in awe. They watched as two women, radiating a lethal blend of beauty and raw power, handled the high-performance machines with the cold, calculating precision of fighter pilots.
Li Xinghuai and Gao Yang, veterans who had seen thousands of drivers, felt their hearts hammer against their ribs. This wasn't just a casual drive among socialites; this was international, professional-level racing. Once again, Chloe Bishop and Sarah Vance
