My Second Chance
Copyright© 2026 by BillMax
Chapter 17: No Free Lunch
“What a mess ... cough cough. Marcus, you’re a legend. This is the first time I’ve ever felt so happy winning.”
“I might as well start my own racing team after this, and you can be my manager.”
Elena Shaw hugged her helmet, her pretty face flushed with excitement like a little girl’s, bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat, without any pretense of being some untouchable fairy.
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Sorry, my fee is pretty high. You can’t afford me.”
“You’re impossible.”
Elena stuck out her tongue but didn’t continue.
Because she knew very well in her heart that starting a racing team would never get past her family.
“Will Claire get mad if we get home too late?” she asked again.
Marcus forced a smile. “Maybe before, but today we officially separated, so I guess I have a bit more freedom for now.”
“Separated? Why?”
“Because I’m an asshole.”
Indeed, I can attest to that.
Muttering to herself, Elena looked unhappy. “You don’t have another woman on the side, do you?”
Marcus shook his head. “Kid, mind your own business. Why did you want to meet?”
“Who are you calling a kid? Your entire family are the kids.”
Scrunching her nose, Elena tossed him a helmet and then climbed onto her motorcycle.
“Come on. Miss is in a good mood. I’ll treat you to a drink.”
Marcus looked at the raised back seat of her motorcycle, wanted to say something, but hesitated.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared to ride.” Elena taunted him with a mix of disdain and provocation.
“It’s not that I’m scared, but if I sit there, I’ll be pressed up against you. I’m covered in stinky sweat. I’m afraid it’ll make me vomit.”
“You ... you really are a complete asshole.”
Elena’s face turned even redder, fuming.
Marcus chuckled. “Get off and let me ride. You sit in the back.”
“Can you handle it?” Elena got off the bike, half-doubting. “This is a liter-class racing bike, not just any newbie can handle it.”
“Lose the ‘can’t.’ Except for having babies, my dictionary doesn’t include the words ‘can’t do.’”
Marcus started the engine, waited for Elena to get on, squeezed the clutch, shifted gears, and revved up—all in one fluid motion. He zipped off with a start, causing Elena to urgently wrap her arms tight around his waist.
It didn’t take long for her to realize that Marcus wasn’t boasting.
Although the speed was nowhere near what she would do in a race, and there was no showing off when taking turns, as a racer she could clearly feel Marcus’s proficiency—and not the kind of proficiency of an ordinary rider.
This guy had likely participated in underground races too. At least he’d handled high-capacity bikes more than a few times.
Looking at the broad shoulders in front of her, Elena couldn’t help but reminisce about her childhood, when her father, who loved motorcycles, would often take her riding through the wind.
Now the man who adored her most had long turned into a handful of dust, and she was no longer anyone’s darling but the Shaw family’s young mistress.
As she thought about it, a faint sorrow welled up in Elena’s nose, and she leaned her head on Marcus’s shoulder.
Too bad she couldn’t feel anything through the helmet.
Half an hour later, Marcus stopped by a late-night food stall along the river.
They ordered a plate of edamame, a few skewers of barbecue, and each grabbed a bottle of cheap beer to drink.
“Ah! This feeling of freedom is just wonderful,” Elena exclaimed to the dark expanse of the river after downing a big gulp of beer.
Marcus spat out an edamame pod. “If those who are thwarted and discontented heard that, they’d accuse you of making a fuss over nothing.”
“What about you?”
“All I know is that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Everything comes at a price, even what you’re born with.”
Elena’s eyes dimmed. “So you don’t think I’m making a fuss over nothing, but you think I’m being melodramatic—unaware of how fortunate I am.”
Marcus smiled and looked her in the eyes. “Do you really think your family doesn’t know about your underground racing?”
Elena tensed. “What do you mean?”
“It’s simple. The rebellion you think you’re showing, these acts of defiance—to your family, they’re nothing more than a child’s temper tantrum.
They’re ignoring it for now because it’s not yet time to deal with it, to avoid pushing you to the edge.”
Elena stood up abruptly. “You ... you’re talking nonsense.
My grandfather is traditional and conservative. Once, a cousin of mine almost had her legs broken by him just for wearing a short skirt that showed her belly button. If he really knew I was racing underground, he would have come chasing after me to scold me ages ago.”
“Do you believe that yourself?”
Marcus didn’t try to hide his contempt. “Your cousin is from another family, but you’re the legitimate Shaw Group heiress.
If your grandfather really did chew you out and then lock you up at home, you’d find a way to run away—far, far away, at least for a short while—and break all ties with the Shaw family.”
Elena froze, then slowly sat down again.
“See,” Marcus continued, “if I, someone who’s barely known you, can guess this, wouldn’t your own grandfather understand?”
Elena covered her face, and soon sobbing could be heard.
“Does that mean ... I really have no choice?”
“You do.”
Elena suddenly lifted her face, tear-streaked.
“What is it?”
Marcus smiled as he filled her glass with beer. “Stop racing. Not only is it dangerous, it’s also embarrassing.
Imagine if one day you achieved a success that garnered the attention of thousands—standing in a position where even the entire Shaw family had to look up to you. Who could then control, or even dare to control, your life and freedom?”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.