Chapter 98

Brinley raised her head and gazed at the reporter in front of her. "I think everyone defines passion differently. For me, true joy means throwing myself into something completely."

Her voice was calm and polite, yet there was an unmistakable detachment beneath it. No matter how pointed the reporters' questions became, she navigated them with diplomatic grace.

Not once did she reveal anything about her racing past.

One reporter tried a new approach. "When you and Nightblade stood together for the award earlier, the two of you seemed very comfortable. Do you know him well?"

Brinley took an unhurried sip of water before answering, "Today was the first time we formally met. To be honest, I usually pay more attention to the way cars perform and how tracks change than to people in the industry."

Her subotle reply neither confirmed nor denied anything. It deflected smoothly, leaving no opening for further digging.

Meanwhile, conversations buzzed among the audience.

Someone had pulled up old photos of Brinley from business events and compared them to her performance on the racetrack. "She looks like a completely different person! Off the track she's so gentle, but once she's racing, it's like she transforms."

"She's clearly talented. Still, she's not on par with professionals. Probably because she was lucky enough to be exposed to racing early on, she managed to pick up some unorthodox techniques," another person remarked with a trace of envy.

Online, the hashtag #TalentedRacerBrinley climbed the charts.

No one connected her to Rosara. After all, Rosara was a legend in the world of racing, an international champion with countless awards. Brinley, in contrast, was seen as a dark horse: a real estate developer who exploded onto the scene out of nowhere.

From the lounge window, Austin stood watching as Brinley fielded questions from the press. The cigarette between his fingers remained unlit.

Nicolas walked up beside him, following his line of sight. "She's impressive. How does she even manage to keep it sharp and controlled under that kind of pressure? Most people would have started name-dropping or bragging about minor awards by now."

Austin stayed silent, his mind drifting years back.

When he had been studying abroad, he once stumbled upon a racing video of Rosara.

Those eyes, gleaming with fire behind the helmet, had reminded him of the young Brinley, who had once stood up for him. That was why he had entered the world of racing.

Over time, he had often suspected Brinley and Rosara were one and the same, but he never found proof.

Only today, watching her deliver those flawless techniques on the track, was he certain: Brinley was Rosara.

The woman he had admired since his youth-she was meant to shine, no matter the arena.

"What's got you so deep in thought?" Nicolas nudged him, grinning. "Your eyes haven't left her."

Austin tossed aside the cigarette and started toward the interview area."Nothing."

Just as he reached the doorway, Brinley.wrapped up her inerview and stepped out.

Nicolas's eyes lit up. He rushed forward with an ingratiating smile, his earlier teasing replaced by genuine awe. "Brinley, you have to teach me how to race like that! I'll gladly be your student!"

Brinley blinked in surprise, a laugh tugging at her lips. She was about to respond when Austin appeared,pulling Nicolas back firmly. "Shut up."

"I'm serious!" Nicolas insisted. "Her driving was unbelievable!"

Brinley's eyes softened with amusement at their exchange. Turning to Nicolas, she said warmly, "You're too kind, Mr. Gomez. I was just lucky today."

"Lucky? You think luck is enough to beat him?" Nicolas jabbed a finger toward Austin. "Do you have any idea? He's never been beaten-not once!"

One cold stare from Austin silenced him instantly.

Brinley glanced at Austin then, remembering the look they had shared at the award ceremony, a gentle smile parting her lips.

Suddenly, a broad, warm hand settled firmly on her shoulder.

Austin drew her close, his eyes icy as they locked on Nicolas. "That's enough. Can't you see she's exhausted?"

The menace in his eyes made Nicolas falter. His earlier excitement fizzled under Austin's stare, and he backed down quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine, fine. I'll stop. You two rest; l'll go check on the cars."

With that, he practically bolted.

Brinley could feel the heat of Austin's palm on her shoulder, and the sense of his possessiveness was impossible to miss.

She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes.

The aloofness he had shown just minutes ago had melted into a faint smile.

"You kind of just scared your friend there," she muttered, though she couldn't hide her own smile.

Austin only arched a brow, his grip tightening rather than loosening. "Sometimes the direct approach is the only way with insensitive people like him. Or would you rather he keep hovering around?"

His breath was warm against her ear, his voice deliberately close.

Brinley's ears flushed red, and she edged away just slightly. "Stop it."

Seeing the color in her cheeks, Austin grinned. He didn't push further, but he didn't let go either. Side by side, they returned to the lounge.

In the VIP stand, the air was taut and tense.

Colin's eyes stayed locked on the screen, watching the replay of Brinley crossing the finish line.

Her smile shone brighter than anything else in the arena. The precision of her turns, the steadiness she held under pressure, the confidence she carried after victory...

Each image pierced deep into him, striking his heart with overwhelming force.