How I Became Ultra Rich Using a Reconstruction System-Chapter 208: Sportscar Part 2

A man at the next table glanced over once. He looked like a local contractor. He tried not to stare. Then he failed and stared again, probably because of the car outside.

Hana caught it and kept her voice low. "If someone asks for a picture, what will you do."

"Say no."

"You will say no in a way that makes them want to fight you," Hana said.

Timothy looked at her. "What do you want me to do."

"Smile," she said. "Once. Like a human."

He exhaled through his nose. "You want me to lie."

Hana laughed and shook her head. "Just do not treat people like they are a problem."

They finished and walked out. The man from the next table came outside at the same time. He approached, careful, not aggressive.

"Sir," he said, nodding. "Nice car."

Timothy nodded back. "Thanks."

The man hesitated. "Is it yours?"

Timothy looked at the man, then at Hana.

Hana gave him a look that said do not.

Timothy answered anyway. "No. Borrowed."

The man chuckled. "Borrowed Ferrari. Must be nice."

Hana stepped in. "He is just driving it for a day."

The man nodded, satisfied, then walked away.

In the car again, Hana looked at Timothy.

"You did not insult him," she said.

"I said two words."

"Progress," Hana replied.

They headed farther north, not to reach a famous destination, but to get away from the city’s rhythm. The road narrowed in places. Timothy slowed through villages. He waited for pedestrians. He stayed patient behind slow vehicles until there was a clean opening.

Then they reached a stretch of open road that climbed through hills. Curves, long sightlines, no heavy traffic. Timothy’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel. He shifted into a more aggressive mode, not jerky, just ready.

Hana noticed immediately. "Here we go."

Timothy kept his eyes on the road. "Seatbelt."

"I am wearing it," Hana said.

He accelerated out of a curve. The car pinned them gently, not violent, just firm. The engine rose, then settled. The steering responded like it was reading his intent.

Hana let out a short breath. Not fear, just surprise.

"Okay," she said. "That is... smooth."

Timothy took the next curve with more confidence. Not reckless. He respected the road. But he let the car do what it was built to do.

Hana watched the view flash past. Hills, trees, a line of clouds sitting low. The smell of pine came through the vents when Timothy cracked the window slightly.

"You like this," Hana said.

Timothy did not answer right away. He took another curve, then another, keeping the car stable. "It is honest."

Hana laughed once. "How is a Ferrari honest."

"It does what it says it will do," Timothy said. "No delay. No hesitation. You press, it responds. You steer, it follows. It is not fighting you."

Hana looked at him for a moment. "You are talking about work again."

Timothy’s mouth twitched. "Maybe."

They pulled over at a viewpoint where a small parking area overlooked rice fields and a winding road below. The wind was cooler. A few locals had set up small stalls selling bottled drinks and snacks.

Hana stepped out and stretched her arms overhead.

Timothy leaned on the car’s hood, careful not to smudge it too much. He watched the road below, seeing how the cars moved like slow dots.

Hana opened a bottle of water and handed it to him.

"You needed this," she said.

Timothy took it. "I did not know I needed it."

"You never know," Hana replied. "You just grind until something breaks."

Timothy looked at her. "Are you okay."

Hana blinked. "What."

"You have been handling all the noise too," he said. "You do not get to disappear just because you are not the CEO."

Hana stared at the valley for a moment before answering.

"I am fine," she said. "I get tired. But it is clean work. At least the foundation is clean. At least some of it is not bullshit."

Timothy nodded.

Hana took a breath. "Also, it helps that you pay well."

Timothy gave a short laugh. "Honest."

They walked to a stall and bought grilled corn. The vendor looked at the car, looked at Timothy, then decided not to ask questions. He just took the cash and handed them the food.

They ate standing by the railing. Hana bit into the corn and chewed.

"You know what is funny," Hana said.

"What."

"A year ago, you would not have taken a day off," she said. "Not like this."

Timothy looked at the road. "A year ago, I did not have people who could run things without me."

Hana nodded. "You built systems."

"Yes."

"And you still do not trust them," Hana added.

Timothy did not argue. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

They got back on the road and drove until late afternoon. They did not chase landmarks. They stopped when Hana pointed at a river and wanted to sit for ten minutes. They stopped when Timothy saw a road that looked newly paved and wanted to feel how the car handled it.

At dusk, they ended up in a small town with a decent roadside lodge. Not fancy. Clean rooms, hot shower, a small parking area with a guard who looked bored but alert.

Hana checked in while Timothy stayed outside, watching the guard glance at the car.

When Hana returned with the keys, she nudged him. "You are doing it again."

"What."

"Hovering," Hana said. "Relax."

Timothy opened the trunk and pulled out their small bags. "I am relaxed."

Hana stared at him. "That is the relaxed version."

In the room, Hana tossed her bag on the bed and kicked off her shoes.

Timothy sat on the edge of the other bed, phone in hand, then paused and set it down without opening it.

Hana noticed.

"Look at you," she said. "Growth."

Timothy leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I keep thinking about the car."

Hana laughed. "Of course you are."

"It is not just fast," Timothy said. "It is balanced. The control is the point. Not speed for the sake of speed."

Hana sat on the other bed. "You are about to start drawing cars in your notebook, are you."

"No," Timothy said, then paused. "Maybe."

Hana grinned. "Here it comes."

Timothy sat up. His tone shifted, not excited, but focused the way it did when a real idea landed.

"TG Motors has EV platforms," he said. "We have buses, trucks, fleet vehicles. We have the manufacturing base. We have the battery packs. But we do not have a halo product."

Hana raised an eyebrow. "A what."

"A sportscar," Timothy said. "Something that does not exist because it is practical. Something that exists because it proves we can build something that feels right."

Hana stared at him, then shook her head slowly. "You took one day off and now you want to build a Ferrari."

"Not a Ferrari," Timothy replied. "Our own. Built for local roads. Built with our engineering. A car that makes people stop saying Filipino-made means compromise."

Hana crossed her arms. "And how many people can buy it."

Timothy answered immediately. "Not many. That is not the point. It sets the bar. It forces our teams to solve problems that normal cars do not force."

Hana leaned back. "So you want to stress your engineers for fun."

"I want to stress them with purpose," Timothy said. "If we can tune handling, weight distribution, thermal management under performance load, we improve everything else."

Hana watched him closely. "You are already deciding the project."

"I am thinking," Timothy said.

"You are deciding," Hana corrected.

Timothy looked at her, then gave a small, rare smile. "Maybe I am."

Hana sighed, but her tone stayed light. "Okay. If you do it, you better not make it look like a toy for rich people."

"It will not be," Timothy said. "It will be a statement. Engineering, not flex."

Hana laughed once. "That is exactly what every rich person says before they flex."

Timothy reached for his water bottle, took a drink, then looked toward the window where the town lights sat low and scattered.

"I did not know a car could reset my head like that," he said.

Hana stretched out on the bed, hands behind her head. "That is why people drive."

Timothy nodded once, already building a list in his mind. Platform options. Supplier constraints. What could be in-house. What needed partnerships. What would make it a TG car instead of a copy.

Hana watched him for a moment, then spoke.

"Tomorrow," she said, "you can think about your sportscar. Tonight, you sleep."

Timothy did not answer right away. He stood, turned off the room light, and left only the lamp near the door on.

"Fine," he said.

Hana closed her eyes. "Good."

Timothy lay back on the bed, hands behind his head, listening to the faint sound of traffic outside. Not Manila traffic. Just a few motorcycles, a distant truck, the quiet noise of a town that ended the day without a rush.

His mind stayed on the road. On the steering feel. On the way the car moved like it had been tuned by someone who cared about control more than noise.

He stared at the ceiling and kept the idea in place, not as a dream, not as a distraction, but as a new project waiting for a name.