Chapter 4

Alan looked embarrassed when I brought up the divorce in front of everyone. "Are you out of your mind? If you don't want a divorce, just say so. It's not like I won't give you an easy way to back down."

Danna, upon hearing my intention to divorce, disregarded the bet. "Alan, Mia is just joking. She surely doesn't want to lose you and that's why she's betting."

"If she wants to play, just agree to it," others chimed in to persuade.

"She is so bold, even daring to pretend to be Vera. I'd like to see how she proves she's Vera."

With so many witnesses, Alan had no choice but to agree, which was exactly what I wanted.

Alan looked at me with a complex expression. "Mia, you're bound to lose this bet."

"Maybe I'll win. Didn't you say you wanted to give me a taste of racing? Let's go, don't waste time." I replied with a smile.

Our group headed towards the racetrack.

Alan's car was parked at the edge of the track, a sleek McLaren MCL38, with a black rose emblem on the hood, which was the logo of Vera.

"Vera is Alan's idol. He definitely won't forgive you this time," Danna walked past me, showing off proudly.

"Let's go, get in the car," I said, ignoring Danna, and walked straight to Alan's side.

I put on my helmet, skillfully slid into the passenger seat, and fastened the five-point harness.

"How does she seem so familiar with racing?" someone asked.

"This is basic knowledge. Anyone with a bit of interest would understand."

Danna explained "empathetically". "Don't be too hard on Mia. She is a housewife with little knowledge, so it's normal that she doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of us."

Once Alan started the engine, Danna waved at him from the track side, "Alan, be safe!"

The roar of the racing engine filled the air, and Alan drove as if he were showing off, speeding around the track.

The familiar sensation of acceleration felt exhilarating, and even though I wasn't driving, I was in a good mood at the moment.

After a lap, I had a good sense of Alan's driving skills.

Among ordinary drivers, he was indeed exceptional, but in the F1 racing world, he had room for improvement.

Getting out of the car and removing my helmet, I smiled at Alan. "You call this a genius racer? Your club must be short on talent."

Alan's face turned dark, and Danna immediately stepped forward. "What qualifies you, someone who doesn't understand racing, to criticize Alan?"

Others echoed, "Exactly, wearing gloves of dubious authenticity, do you really think you are Vera?"

I ignored them and spoke concisely. "Your brake balance is three percent forward, which may be due to data drift from a sensor."

Alan frowned, doubting my assessment. "Impossible! I've adjusted the brake balance myself, and the dashboard shows everything is fine. If there's an issue, it's with the rear tire grip."

The crowd condemned me. "Don't pretend to know what you're talking about. Do you realize how crucial even minor discrepancies in racing data can be?"

"You are a housewife, and you are acting like you know everything. How dare you lecture Alan?"

I continued explaining, "Each time you brake hard into a corner, especially like the right turn just now, the front end dips too quickly and aggressively, almost lifting the rear wheels. This isn't a rear tire grip issue. It's because the rear brakes aren't getting enough force to stabilize the car."

Alan squatted to check the rear tires, while Danna grew impatient. "Why don't we just call the technician to verify if Mia knows what she's talking about?"

Someone quickly ran inside to fetch the technician.

When the technician arrived with diagnostic tools, he was surprised to see a familiar face.

"What a surprise to see you here," the man said in astonishment.