Midnight.
The Underground Raceway blazed with lights.
The roar of engines was deafening.
Sophia Sullivan stepped into the hall.
She checked the time.
Thirty minutes until the race began.
"Boss, are you really going to race?"
Abigail Clementson looked bewildered.
She had just received a $200,000 transfer.
After paying off some debts, she became Sophia's assistant.
But what kind of proper assistant came to a place like this?
The hall was filled with well-dressed men and women.
Their gazes flickered toward the two of them.
Not because of Abigail.
But because Sophia's presence was overwhelming.
She had changed her appearance.
Her fiery red hair burned like flames.
The tight racing suit hugged her curves perfectly.
Gorgeous yet dangerous.
"Of course. The prize money will help pay off your debts."
Sophia joked half-heartedly.
She glanced into the distance.
"Help me with something later."
Abigail sighed.
"As long as it's not illegal."
She wasn't a saint.
Money meant obligations.
But she was deeply curious about Sophia.
"These races are dangerous."
Abigail lowered her voice.
"The rich love flaunting their identities."
"You're racing anonymously, fine."
"But you're not even showing your eyes."
"What if someone tries to mess with you?"
This place was a den of chaos.
Abigail had assumed website operators were like her—
Glued to their computers.
Not chasing speed and adrenaline.
When the cars roared past, her heart nearly stopped.
But Sophia showed no fear.
"Anonymity makes it exciting."
Disguises were child's play for her.
She adjusted her helmet.
"As for messing with me?"
"They'd need the skills first."
Some raced for vanity.
Sophia did it purely for passion.
More importantly—
Tonight, she was investigating what Howard Sullivan had mentioned.
"Abby, keep an eye on the entrance."
Sophia patted Abigail's shoulder.
She handed her two photos.
"If you see these two—"
"Notify Ryan Lawrence immediately."
"He'll beat them up with a sack."
Ryan would arrive soon.
This place required backup.
"Don't hold back."
"The harsher the beating, the bigger the prize."
Sophia lifted her visor.
Her violet-colored contacts shimmered.
Her arrogant tone was downright villainous.
Yet Abigail's cheeks flushed inexplicably.
"O...okay."
Beauty truly transcended gender.
But then she snapped back to reality.
"You have a grudge against them?"
Abigail studied the photos carefully.
The woman looked delicate.
But her eyes held calculation.
The man she recognized—
Liam Winston, CEO of Winston Group.
In the photo, he looked like a freeloader.