Sophia burst out laughing, twisting free from her grip, nearly doubling over as Emma laughed right along with her.
***
The night air was cool and biting as Sophia drove through the city streets. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, and her hair whipped around her face in the wind. The red Chevrolet stood out vividly among the sea of grey, black, and white cars.
As she glanced in the rearview mirror, her stomach tightened.
A black car she had seen at the auction house was following her, keeping pace no matter how fast she drove. Confusion and doubt flickered across her face as she slowed slightly—but the car behind her also slowed, continuing to tail her relentlessly.
Sophia’s face went blank, her fingers tightening around the wheel. “I knew it,” she muttered, letting out a snicker. “How could my uncles fail to meet my expectations when money is involved?”
Taking a deep breath, she shifted gears, slammed the accelerator, and pushed the car to its limits.
The vehicle behind her responded instantly, speeding up to keep pace.
Traffic was sparse on the wide avenue, giving Sophia room to maneuver. A white Mercedes appeared ahead, but before it could become an obstacle, the Chevrolet shot past, slicing through the streets.
Inside the Mercedes, Magnus’s gaze locked onto the red vehicle. Beside him sat his cousin, Harold—young, sharp-featured, barely in his early twenties. His neatly styled hair and tailored jacket couldn’t hide the restless energy in his posture, long legs braced, shoulders tense as he leaned forward.
“Holy shit,” Harold muttered, eyes glued to the red car as a black vehicle surged after it. “This is about to get messy.”
Chapter 3 A Coincidence
The documents in his hands slipped to the floor, forgotten, as he stared ahead, pulse written plainly across his face.
Their own car was not far behind. Seeing Sophia maneuvering to escape her pursuer, Harold turned to Magnus. "We should help that lady. Looks like she’s about to get into trouble."
Magnus’s gaze never left the road. The red car weaved through traffic recklessly, yet with absolute precision. His voice was distant and cold as he answered, "Don’t worry about it. She can handle her troubles on her own."
Harold’s jaw dropped. "You’re so ruthless! Leaving a woman alone and even in this situation—how can you be so heartless?"
“Shut your mouth,” Magnus snapped, his voice icy. Then, slightly louder, he instructed, “Timothy, increase the speed. Stay close. Follow that car, keep it in sight.”
"Yes, Mr. Graves," Timothy, his secretary, replied, pressing the accelerator. Their car surged forward, closing the distance.
Sophia’s car shot into a narrow street, the kind where only one car could fit. At the very last second, she twisted the steering wheel sharply and turned. Her car whipped into the alley with flawless precision, tires screaming as she cut the turn.The sudden maneuver left the black car behind her completely exposed.
Unable to react in time, the black car barreled straight ahead, slamming into the wall before skidding violently and plunging nose-first into the ditch.
Magnus’ car rolled to a stop just behind her. He watched, unblinking.
"Holy smokes!" Harold gasped, grinning so wide it was almost unhinged. "That was badass!" He craned his neck out of the window, staring at her in awe.
He glanced toward Magnus, who sat back in his seat with unsettling calm, his gaze fixed through the windshield, never once leaving her.
“How did you know she could handle that on her own?” Harold asked, disbelief thick in his voice.
Magnus didn’t answer right away. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile—subtle, proud. He remained silent, eyes tracking her every movement.
He ducked back inside the car, turning to Magnus.
“I’ve never seen anyone drive like that,” he went on, still wide-eyed. He gestured vaguely toward the road. “She has complete control over that car. EvenIwouldn’t be able to pull off what she just did.”
Magnus gave a slight nod, barely there. Though he leaned back casually, the surprise in his eyes was unmistakable.
Harold kept staring after the Chevrolet, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward in his seat, squinting as if trying to catch anotherglimpse. “Wait…” he muttered. “That license plate—001. That looks familiar.”
“It’s a premium number, sir,” Timothy said from the driver’s seat, glancing at the rearview mirror. “Must be worth hundreds of thousands.”
