The Return of the Cannon Fodder Trillion Heiress-Chapter 887 Another Bet

Her response sent ripples across the audience, both in the stands and online. Her boyfriends, proudly watching the stream, playfully raised their hands in solidarity, causing the chat to explode. Xavier, not even thinking, instinctively puffed out his chest with pride, even though no one was watching him directly.

But the backlash came just as quickly. International viewers, especially fans of the blonde racer, began to criticize Hera, accusing her of arrogance and exaggeration. After all, the blonde wasn’t just any racer. He was Europe’s reigning champion, known for his wild, unpredictable style and his striking, celebrity-like looks.

He had endorsements all over the continent and was even scouted by entertainment agencies. That fame had clearly gone to his head, and now, his fans were doing damage control, refusing to acknowledge his sleazy behavior.

"Ha! Don’t make things up, little sister. Are they really more handsome than me?" the young racer scoffed, puffing out his chest. "Look, I’m already doing you a favor by showing interest. Even if you lose this race, you’ll still gain popularity just by standing next to me. Who knows, maybe you won’t win the trophy, but you’ll win some brand deals by playing with me. Sounds like a good trade, doesn’t it?"

He grinned widely, as if he’d just offered Hera a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Hera, unimpressed, rolled her eyes in plain disdain and looked back toward her garage.

As if on cue, Xavier rose from his seat and positioned himself front and center, unmissable. Beside him stood Alexandre, who hadn’t meant to look so threatening, but his furious scowl and crossed arms made his feelings perfectly clear. The young racer’s sleazy remarks had clearly rubbed him the wrong way.

Xavier, though perfectly composed on the surface, exuded an icy presence that chilled the air around him. The tension was too obvious to miss.

The NRT’s manager and coach, standing nearby, instinctively stepped back, gulping nervously under the weight of that quiet fury.

Seeing Xavier standing there, Hera simply tilted her head, gesturing subtly toward her own garage. The blonde racer followed her gaze, still smirking, convinced she was bluffing. He couldn’t believe anyone could outshine him, handsome, successful, and well-known. To him, Hera’s words were nothing more than a last-ditch attempt to save face.

But when he and the group of men behind him looked toward the garage, the smirks vanished.

There stood a silver-haired man with fair, luminous skin and ruby-red eyes that gleamed under the morning sun. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a romance comic, flawless, poised, and effortlessly captivating. The sight left them stunned.

Xavier, now fully visible without his usual disguise, made no effort to hide himself or his connection to Hera. He had no reason to. Not anymore. His fans already supported his relationship with her. Hera was beautiful, graceful, and undeniably talented.

Far from seeing her as a threat or rival, they saw her as the perfect match. In fact, many of his fans were eager to see them officially together, afraid someone else might snatch her away.

So, when the young racer looked back, even the nearby cameras followed his line of sight, and landed squarely on Xavier and Alexandre. Both men stood tall, exuding raw charisma. Each had his own allure: Alexandre with his commanding presence, and Xavier with his refined, almost ethereal charm.

Xavier’s fitted white turtleneck clung lightly to his frame, subtly outlining his abdominal muscles beneath the thin fabric. The moment the camera caught his face, recognition rippled through the crowd and among the online viewers. Gasps echoed from the stands.

It was him, Xavier, the internationally renowned actor with millions of devoted fans and an annual income that soared into the hundreds of millions, thanks to a long list of blockbuster films, high-profile endorsements, and savvy investments. Every movie he starred in was a guaranteed box office success. And while his earnings from acting were public, the fortune he made from producing and investing remained a mystery, one that everyone assumed was astronomical.

And in Paris, who didn’t know the ’Prince of Paris ’?

All eyes were locked on Xavier and Alexandre, not on the young racer. The comparison was brutal. Standing beside men like Xavier and Alexandre, the cocky young racer suddenly looked small, outclassed, like an awkward duckling trying to measure up to two majestic swans. It wasn’t just about looks. It was the aura, the success, the substance.

He didn’t stand a chance.

Many people began to realize that Hera hadn’t been exaggerating at all. And as if to pour salt into the wound, the guy in charge of the event subtitles, clearly getting a little too invested in the live drama unfolding before him, decided to do a quick search on Hera’s long list of known love interests.

It didn’t take long. Hera, after all, was a public figure, and while she wasn’t flaunting her love life, she wasn’t exactly hiding it either. Her fans had been shipping her with all her known boyfriends for a while now.

The subtitle guy quickly found pictures of Hera with her other partners, and without a second thought, he flashed a series of them on the big screen, zooming in on each handsome face beside her. The crowd erupted with gasps and whispers of awe and disbelief. Hera had quite the lineup.

His enthusiasm, however, was short-lived. His manager, standing behind him, smacked him on the back of the head with a notebook, not hard, more like a warning. But notably, he didn’t tell him to stop. So really, the slap was just for show.

Thanks to that impulsive move, the buzz around the race exploded. The spotlight wasn’t just on the competition anymore; everyone was now completely hooked on the unexpected revelation of Hera’s colorful love life... and she didn’t even know it yet.

Embarrassed and humiliated, the arrogant blonde racer’s face flushed red, but he couldn’t find the words to respond. After seeing Xavier, even he, another man, had to admit that Xavier’s looks were almost otherworldly. There was something effortlessly magnetic about him, like a siren in human form, elegant, composed, yet devastatingly sexy.

And Alexandre standing beside him? As someone who lived in Europe, he knew exactly who that man was. His reputation preceded him, and his appearance didn’t fall short either. Alexandre exuded raw masculinity, a powerful presence that radiated from his deep-set eyes, which burned with a fiery passion that made anyone feel exposed under his gaze.

Faced with these two living embodiments of perfection, the blonde racer could only swallow his pride. There was simply no comparison. And since he couldn’t compete, he redirected his anger toward Hera, his glare sharp and seething.

"Fine," he snapped, his tone low and laced with venom. "If you win, name your price. But I’m not changing my bet."

The gleam in his eyes turned dark and twisted, as if he no longer saw her as a rival, but as prey to be crushed.

Hera didn’t respond right away. Instead, she flashed a bright, dazzling smile that caught the arrogant blonde racer completely off guard, his breath nearly hitched as he was momentarily swept away by her charm. But just as quickly, her smile vanished, replaced by a chilling, emotionless expression that hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water. Her eyes were sharp, her tone flat and uncompromising, as if to say, ’I don’t do bullshit.’

"I won’t ask for much, just the same as you," she said coolly. "But if I win, how about this? You spend a whole year doing charity work... in the mountains. Sounds fair, right?"

He was stunned for a moment, staring at Hera with furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out whether she was joking. The request seemed... too simple. "That’s it?!" he asked, baffled, then suddenly grinned like he’d just hit the jackpot. In his mind, win or lose, he wasn’t really risking anything. No money, no pride, no limb. So he nodded eagerly and replied, "Deal. No take-backs!" With that, he strode confidently toward his car, his smile curling into something far more sinister.

But Hera wasn’t making it easy for him. She was petty to the bone, and she had no intention of letting this arrogant, reckless racer off lightly. After publicly embarrassing him, she knew he wouldn’t let the matter go. He looked like the type to retaliate without thinking, and Hera was ready for it. After everything she had endured, especially the malice from Alice and the others, she’d developed a keen sense for reading people’s intentions, and this guy’s hostility radiated like a warning siren.

Still, Hera had no plans of backing down. That bet? She absolutely meant it. But if he thought he could just drive a few truckloads of supplies to a mountain village, take some selfies, and call it charity, he was delusional. What she had in mind was far more humbling.

She intended to send him deep into the mountains, not as a guest, but as a laborer. He would farm, live off the bare minimum, and work for the villagers every day without any communication devices or outside help. Isolated from the world, he’d be forced to face the kind of life he’d never imagined. A full year of it. Only then might he gain a little perspective, learn that fame and fortune don’t place him above the law, or above others.

Of course, Hera wasn’t cruel. She’d make sure he was cared for, paid for his trouble afterward, and had something to return to. But first... she’d knock that arrogance right out of him and hand him a reality check he wouldn’t forget.

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