Chapter 25: Vacation Over... Time to Win A Race

"Hmm... who wants to see me swim?"

Chloe’s head whipped around, her eyes widening instantly. "Wait, what? Are you crazy? We’re in the middle of the ocean!"

"Don’t do it!" May yelled, dropping her drink and jumping up from her lounge chair, running toward the railing. "Seriously, don’t—!"

Too late. Ha!

I didn’t give them a second to talk me out of it. I kicked off my shoes, vaulted right over the polished yacht railing, and plummeted toward the ocean.

SPLASH!

The cool, crystal-clear turquoise water hit me all at once, washing away the lingering heat of the day. I cut deep into the sea, surfaced a few seconds later, and tossed my wet hair back, letting out a laugh as the calm current rocked me in place.

Looking up at the top deck, both of them were leaning over the rail. May had her hands over her mouth, half-terrified, half-laughing, while Chloe was shaking her head with a wide grin, resting her arms on the ledge.

"You are absolutely insane!" Chloe shouted down over the water, her laugh echoing across the open ocean.

"Come on down! Water’s perfect!" I called back, treading water effortlessly.

May looked at Chloe, then down at the pristine ocean, her competitive spark lighting up right on cue. She kicked off her sandals, climbed up onto the edge of the stern deck, and gave me a wicked, confident smirk.

"You’re not the only one who can dive!" she yelled.

Before Chloe could even stop her, May launched herself off the deck in a clean, powerful dive, cutting into the water with athletic precision. She surfaced right next to me a second later, blowing water out of her face and laughing loudly, completely free.

Chloe shook her head on the deck above us, laughing at the two of us. "Idiots! Both of you!"

Floating out there in the warm ocean water under the open sky, listening to them laugh without a single care in the world, it hit me again—this was true freedom. No strict schedules, no corporate suits, no stress. Just pure luxury and total control.

After our swim, we climbed back up the yacht’s ladder, dripping wet and laughing as the sun began to sink low on the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of gold and purple.

We showered and changed into sleek, evening resort wear from May’s new wardrobe. By the time we walked back out onto the main deck, the private top chef had already transformed the stern into a fine-dining setup under the warm deck lights, complete with soft ambient music playing through the yacht’s sound system.

The dinner was incredible—freshly caught ocean seafood, prime wagyu cuts, gourmet sides, and fine champagne poured into crystal flutes.

May sat across from me, looking absolutely stunning in a fitted evening dress that hugged her new athletic shape. She was completely at ease, eating with genuine enjoyment without any of the old guilt or anxiety that used to plague her. Beside her, Chloe leaned back in her seat, enjoying the food and taking in the ocean breeze with a content smile.

I raised my glass of champagne, looking at both of them across the candlelit table.

"To real transformation," I said, my voice smooth and confident. "To breaking world records, crushing exams, and taking over everything on our own terms."

Chloe clinked her glass against mine with a bright laugh. "To taking over!"

May looked at me, her eyes shining with quiet, deep gratitude as she tapped her glass against ours. "To the team. Thank you for never letting me settle."

We spent the rest of the night eating, drinking, and laughing under the open night sky as the yacht gently rocked on the quiet ocean.

The stress of the past two months was completely gone, replaced by absolute confidence and unbreakable momentum.

---

The heavy tour bus rolled into the arena parking lot, surrounded by the hum of idling engines, team vans, and hundreds of athletes from across the region milling around the registration gates.

Inside, the atmosphere was dead silent. Marcus was checking over May’s track spikes one last time, acting as her official lead coach, while I sat across from them in my tailored suit.

May was sitting on the leather bench seat, staring out the darkened glass window. Her hands were fidgeting with the zipper of her custom jacket. At first glance, she looked terrified.

I stood up, walked over, and slid into the seat right beside her.

"Nervous?" I asked softly, looking at her side profile.

May turned her head slowly, looking at me. A sharp, almost dangerous smirk cracked across her face, and her eyes were glowing with raw intensity.

"Nervous?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly—not from fear, but from pure, unadulterated excitement. "I’m not nervous. My heart is beating out of my chest. I just want to get out there and tear that track apart right now."

She wasn’t scared at all. She was overhyped, her adrenaline spiking way too early before she even touched the track.

"Hey," I said, putting a firm hand on her shoulder to anchor her. "Breathe. Control it. You’ve got insane power, May, but if you burn all that energy in the warm-up area, you’ll lose your edge on the final stretch. Put that fire into focus. Don’t let the hype get into your head."

May took a deep, shuddering breath, holding it for three seconds before blowing it out slowly. She nodded, her jaw setting tight as her gaze hardened. The overexcitement cooled into pure, icy composure.

"You’re right," she said, looking straight into my eyes. "I’m locked in."

"Good," I said, standing up and adjusting my jacket. "Let’s show them who we are."

Marcus hit the automatic release, and the massive pneumatic door of the tour bus hissed open.

The three of us stepped down onto the pavement right into the middle of the bustling athlete drop-off zone. Dozens of runner squads, university teams, and sponsored athletes clad in neon corporate logos—Nike, Adidas, Puma—turned their heads.

As May stepped down behind me, completely decked out in her sleek, jet-black, custom unbranded kit, heads started spinning. She looked like a silent, elite assassin standing among a crowd of loud commercials.

Whispers immediately broke out among the rival coaches and scouts.

"Who is that?"

"What team is she with? Where’s her sponsor logo?"

"Look at her build... is she a late entry?"

May didn’t look at a single one of them. She kept her chin up, her gaze fixed straight ahead toward the tunnel leading into the main stadium, walking side-by-side with Marcus and me.

I walked up to the high-tier VIP section, sliding into my front-row seat directly above the track’s finish line. Down below, May finished her check-in and stepped out onto the red surface under the blazing stadium lights.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the massive stadium speakers, calling out the lineup for the women’s 100-meter final lane by lane.

"In Lane 3... representing Peak Athletics, state champion Rei Gold!" The crowd let out a huge roar.

I glanced down at Lane 3. The runner was head-to-toe in high-end, bright blue sponsored gear—the exact global brand whose HQ I had flown to weeks ago. The director hadn’t just rejected May; he had backed Sarah Vance as his flagship athlete for this entire regional meet.

Then the announcer paused, looking down at his sheet with a slight hesitation.

"And in Lane 5... running unattached... May!"

The stadium went dead silent for a second. No corporate backer, no team name. Just May standing in her sleek, jet-black, logo-free custom suit. She didn’t wave or smile for the camera. She just stared straight down her lane, cold and focused like a loaded rifle.

"Quite a step down from a private jet charter, isn’t it?" a slick, arrogant voice spoke up right beside me.

I turned my head slowly. The Director of Global Sponsorships was standing in the VIP row right behind me, holding a glass of champagne, a condescending smirk plastered across his face.

"It’s a pleasure we meet once again," he said, taking a sip and leaning on the handrail beside my seat. "I see you actually brought your ’unproven secret weapon’ to a real meet. Bold move. But look at Lane 3—that’s Rie Gold. Millions in backing, top sports science, and proven media pull. That’s what a real brand looks like. Your girl in the plain black suit looks like she forgot her jersey."

I didn’t break a sweat or raise my voice. I just leaned back in my leather VIP chair, resting my chin on my hand, and gave him a dead-pan, amused smile.

"Keep holding onto that champagne glass, Director," I said softly, looking back down at May as she dropped into her starting blocks. "Because in about ten seconds, your top sponsored athlete is going to be staring at the back of her unbranded shoes."

Down on the track, the official starter raised the pistol into the air.

"On your marks..."