Chapter 35: Race day

"Wait, pause the global blitz for a second," I said, holding up a hand as a much sharper strategy clicked into place. "I’ve got a better idea. If we throw $15 million at a global rollout right off the bat, we’re just playing Apex’s game—spending money to fight over airtime. We don’t just want customers, Tiana. We want a cult following."

Tiana stopped scrolling through her marketing proposals, looking up with genuine curiosity. Chloe sat forward, and May tilted her head, listening closely.

"Think about it," I continued, pacing slowly across the marble floor. "Scarcity creates obsession. Instead of going worldwide on day one, we start national. The National Athletics Championship is in two weeks right here at home. All eyes, all media, and every scout in the country will be locked on that track."

May’s eyes widened as she caught on instantly. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. "I run in the new Zenith gear. First hand. Live on national television."

"Exactly," I grinned. "No press releases, no pre-orders, no public sales. Just you on the track, shattering expectations in gear nobody else can buy yet. You win the championship, cross the finish line, and the moment you break the tape—we drop the national sales link exclusively for our home country."

Chloe snapped her fingers, her legal mind immediately mapping out the market mechanics. "That’s brilliant. By locking down international shipping initially, we turn the gear into an urban legend abroad. Foreign buyers will be begging for it, paying double on secondary markets just to import it."

Tiana’s eyes lit up as she rapidly reworked the launch model on her tablet. "It flips the entire psychological dynamic! We use our $15 million war chest to dominate national airwaves, sponsor the championship broadcast, and build an airtight local supply network. By the time we actually pull the trigger on a global release, the international demand will be at a boiling point. Apex won’t even see it coming because they’re looking at international markets while we capture the entire domestic core!"

"We make them starve for it," I said, looking around at the squad. "Peter Pear thinks he’s competing against a standard brand drop. He has no idea we’re building a movement."

May stood up, stretching her arms with absolute confidence. "Consider the championship won. When I cross that line in Zenith gear, Apex’s little launch is going to look like background noise."

---

The bass dropped heavy through the headphones as the sleek Zenith luxury tour bus cut through the surging crowds outside the national stadium. May had plugged me into her pre-race playlist—a dark, heavy, high-tempo track that got the pulse hammering against your ribs.

Through the tinted glass, the scene outside was electric. Thousands of fans, news crews, and camera rigs were packed around the perimeter. Banners for the National Athletics Championship blanketed the concrete, but right alongside them were the fresh, high-impact Zenith billboards we had locked down across the venue.

May sat across from me, her eyes dead-focused, her feet lightly tapping the floorboards in rhythm with the track. She was already wearing the sleek, matte-black prototype performance kit. It looked less like standard athletic wear and more like advanced engineered armor—minimalist, aggressive, and carrying the silver Zenith crest right across the chest.

Chloe leaned over from her seat, adjusting her sunglasses as she checked her tablet. "Heat qualifiers start in thirty minutes. The media is already going crazy trying to figure out what gear May is wearing. They’ve never seen that logo before."

"Good," I said, pulling one side of the headphones down. "Let them speculate."

Tiana turned around from the front row, holding up a live metrics monitor. "We have three days. Today is the heat, tomorrow is the semifinal, and day three is the grand final. We build the pressure brick by brick. By the time May steps onto the track for the final, the national hype will be at absolute critical mass."

The bus hissed to a stop right in the underground athlete tunnel. The doors glided open, letting in the muffled, thunderous roar of forty thousand fans packing the stands above.

May stood up, unzipping her track jacket just enough to flash the silver crest, and flashed me a cold, lethal smirk.

"Time to put on a show," she said.

---

The concrete tunnel was crawling with reporters, cameramen, and sports photographers trying to force their lenses past the security detail. Camera flashes went off in a blinding rhythm, but my personal guards formed an impenetrable wall, pushing the press back and clearing a direct path for us.

May smirked, leaning toward me under the wall of bodyguards. "Okay, not gonna lie... having custom security holding back a wall of reporters feels pretty amazing."

"Get used to it," I grinned. "You’re the face of Zenith now."

Her coach met us right outside the athlete access door, taking over to guide her into the warm-up zone and private locker room. May gave us a quick peace sign over her shoulder before stepping into the back, completely entering her pre-race zone.

Chloe, Tiana, and I took the private elevator straight up to the owner’s VIP suite.

The suite looked out directly over the finish line through massive, soundproof floor-to-ceiling glass. Down on the track, the crowd was filling out the stands, while commentators on the big screen were already obsessing over the mysterious matte-black performance kit May wore through the tunnel.

Chloe poured three glasses of sparkling water at the suite’s private bar while Tiana pulled up our live analytics dashboard.

"The media wall worked perfectly," Tiana reported, her face glowing under the LED display. "Because your security blocked direct photos of the logo, social media speculation is spiking. ’What is May wearing?’ is currently trending at 3rd nationally."

"And day one hasn’t even started yet," Chloe added, hand-delivering my glass with a sharp smile.

Down below, the stadium announcers called out the 100m heat qualifiers. The track marshals began guiding the sprinters out onto the lanes.

May stepped onto lane 4, peeling off her outer jacket to reveal the full Zenith heat gear. The silver crest caught the stadium lights, and forty thousand fans leaned forward in unison.

The moment May stripped off her jacket down on Lane 4, the entire stadium seemed to hold its breath.

The commentators stopped mid-sentence. Up on the giant stadium screens, the broadcast cameras zoomed tight on her posture. The custom Zenith kit hugged her form flawlessly—a dark, matte-black silhouette engineered with sharp, aerodynamic silver accents that practically gleamed under the heavy stadium lights. Center-chest sat the sharp, lethal Z emblem, looking less like standard sportswear and more like high-end futuristic armor.

"Look at that gear..." the lead announcer’s voice echoed across the PA system, broadcast live to millions of homes. "May is debuting an entirely unreleased setup today. We don’t even have a brand partner listed on the official sheet—just that striking silver ’Z’ emblem. It looks incredibly fast."

Across the stands, heads were turning, phones were pulled out, and camera lenses zoomed in from every angle. She looked dangerous. She looked elite.

Down on the track, May didn’t give the crowd a single glance. Her expression was pure steel. She adjusted her blocks, stepped into position, and brought her hands to the chalked line.

"On your marks..." the official’s voice echoed over the silent stadium.

May set her feet into the blocks, her muscles coiled like a high-tension spring beneath the Zenith fabric.

"Set..."

She raised her hips, her breathing perfectly measured, her eyes locked straight down Lane 4.

BANG!

The starter pistol fired, and May exploded off the blocks like a bullet fired from a heavy rifle.