Chapter 71

"Stayed up too late again? You've got dark circles under your eyes," Austin remarked, studying Brinley carefully.

Brinley flashed an awkward smile.

He wasn't wrong; she had hardly slept. The night before,she had gotten carried away practicing on her racing simulator until the early hours.

"I was buried in work and lost track of time," she fibbed, then quickly changed the subject. Glancing toward the staircase, she added, "By the way,could I borrow your copy of 'Racetrack Engineering Analysis'?We're preparing a racer interview segment forthe project, and I need to refresh my understanding of the technical details so I can sound well-informed and credible when I'm asking questions during the interviews."

Austin arched an eyebrow. "All of a sudden, you're interested in racing?"

"It's just for work," Brinley said, keeping her tone calm."You know the project is racing-themed. I should be able to hold a conversation with the partners, at least." Austin didn't push further. With a slight nod, he said,"The book is in my study-the one with the red cover on the third shelf. Be careful with it. It's out of print."

Brinley already knew it was rare, which was exactly why she had asked him for it.

She nodded. "Alright, no problems."

She exhaled in relief, about to continue,when Austin grabbed his things from the equipment rack. With a casual wave, he said, "I'm heading out."

Brinley watched him walk away, realizing only then that her excuse hadn't been particularly convincing.

Had he already seen through her story?

As she stood lost in thought, Austin suddenly turned back. "And make sure you eat regularly."

"Oh... okay," Brinley stammered, snapping back to reality.

Without another word,Austin left the gym.

Once he was gone, Brinley switched off the treadmill and remained in place for a while, taking a moment to steady herself and collect her thoughts.

Her mind wandered to the book, "Racetrack Engineering Analysis," which had detailed notes on a professional racer known as Nightblade. Before she retired from racing, she had competed against him,and he'd been a formidable opponent.

With the passing years, his skills might have gotten better.

It was rumored that he would be entering the exhibition race.

Since Brinley was going to take part, she wanted nothing less than first place. And knowing her rivals was the first step toward victory.

She walked to the window and opened it slightly.

Downstairs, Austin's black Maybach rolled slowly down the driveway.

She stood watching until it disappeared at the end of the street before turning toward the staircase and heading into the study.

On the third shelf sat the book with the worn red cover. The gold lettering on its spine was faded from age.

Taking a deep breath, Brinley opened the book and began to read with focused intensity

The digital clock on the desk ticked softly, switching to seven-thirty. Startled, she snapped the book shut, tucked it under her arm, and rushed out of the study.

She needed to be at the project site by eight; the supervisor was waiting

Passing through the kitchen, she noticed a white porcelain bowl set neatly on the table, filled with warm porridge. A small dish of sliced pickles sat beside it.

A servant approached and said politely, "Mrs. Moore,Mr. Moore asked me to prepare breakfast for you. He reminded me to tell you not to skip it."

"Alright," Brinley replied softly

It seemed the supervisor would have to wait a little longer

Brinley sat down, picked up a spoon, and started enjoying her breakfast.

After breakfast, she headed to the project site for the morning. Later that afternoon, Brinley drove to the private racetrack tucked away in the mountains outside the city.

With the exhibition race drawing closer, she needed to get a feel for the track in advance.

She had arranged the trip discreetly, telling Austin she would be spending the entire day at the project site,using that as a cover to hide her real intentions.

The track lay hidden among the hills, reachable only by a narrow cement road. The place was closed to the public, open only to a select few. Yet within racing circles, it was well known as a training ground for professionals seeking to escape the spotlight

Brinley parked her car, pulled on oversized sunglasses and a mask, and retrieved a black suitcase from the trunk.

Unzipping it, she changed quickly

Her newly tailored fireproof suit was a deep red,patterned with subtle roses woven into the fabric. It fit snugly and comfortably, molding perfectly to her figure.

Once she fastened the helmet over her head, the world's noise dulled instantly, leaving only the sound of her steady breathing.

In the repair area under the canopy, several mechanics in uniforms were working on a silverrace car.

When Brinley appeared, a bearded man broke into a grin. "Rosara! I can't believe you actually came!"

Brinley smiled beneath her helmet. "Jensen, is the car ready?"

"Of course." Jensen Rayne, her longtime friend and mechanic, nodded toward the corner. "The red one,modified just like your old setup."

Before coming, Brinley had reached out to a few people she trusted completely.

They knew her only by her helmet, having never seen her face.

She didn't want her identity revealed, and they understood not to ask questions.

Walking over, Brinley ran her fingertips lightly along the hood of the red car.

Its sleek contours gleamed under the light, and the small rose emblem on the side had been her signature on the track.

Though years had passed, the cold feel of the mnetal stirred her muscle memory, sending a rush of heat through her fingertips.

"Thank you, Jensen," she mumbled, her voice soft with emotion.

"The voice changer's set up," Jensen said, handing her a Bluetooth earpiece.