"It's not about grudges. They just won't leave me alone."
Sophia Sullivan narrowed her eyes, recalling the message Ryan Lawrence had sent her yesterday.
Liam Winston and Chloe Evans had already reserved spectator seats at the Underground Raceway.
Whatever their motives were, Sophia refused to sit idle.
Especially after Liam had the audacity to ask if they could still be friends during the auction night.
The mere thought made her stomach churn.
"Chloe came prepared. Don't hold back when you deal with her."
Her voice was icy.
How did Zachary Sullivan know about Potter's Town? How did he figure out they'd visit the cottage?
There was only one explanation.
Chloe, the only person connected to both sides, must have tipped him off.
The people Sophia encountered in Potter's Town were all Mr. York's longtime neighbors—none would betray a friend for money.
But there was good news.
Zachary had been involved in a mysterious car accident the day he left Potter's Town and was still hospitalized.
"Boss, I can call Ryan for you, but fighting? That's not my thing."
Abigail Clementson swallowed hard.
With her petite frame, she'd be lucky not to end up stuffed in a sack.
Sophia gave her a lazy glance.
"Consider it an initiation test."
"..."
Abigail pointed at herself, blinking in disbelief.
"Boss, aren't you worried I'll embarrass you?"
"Don't worry. Ryan will clean up the mess."
Abigail fell silent again.
No wonder Sophia wasn't concerned.
She suddenly felt like deadweight.
Clenching her fists, Abigail muttered, "I'll do my best."
The inner area gradually filled with people—racers clustering in small groups, chatting.
Some cradled helmets, others revealed their faces, while a few wore thick masks.
Sophia patted her shoulder.
"You handle the entrance. I'm heading in first."
Sophia always repaid every slight tenfold.
Cross her, and there might still be room for negotiation. But threaten those she cared about?
She thought of Mr. York—the playful yet dependable elder who'd always shielded her.
Anyone who dared disturb his peace would pay dearly.
——
In the inner zone, Sophia slipped on a mask as thin as cicada wings, covering her entire face.
Only her striking, exotic eyes remained visible.
As she carried her helmet to draw lots, she overheard racers whispering.
"What's the big deal about that prize? So many bosses want it—just some woman's trinket. If it were a beauty, I'd understand."
Many shared the sentiment.
Most were professional racers hired from the black market, here solely to compete for the prize.
The masks were just for anonymity.
"You idiots have no clue."
A bald man perched on a higher platform scoffed.
"That's the former Mrs. Sullivan's keepsake. Hand it over to Ethan Sullivan, and you'll earn his favor."
He smirked, scanning the crowd with disdain.
"As for beauty—"
His grin turned lecherous. "Ethan's mother was no looker. Back then, people called her a fox—AHH!"
Before he could finish, a sharp pain shot through his knee.
As he staggered up, another blow struck his stomach.
BAM!
A pebble clattered near his seat.
Dizzy with pain, he missed his footing and tumbled down the platform, rolling several steps before landing in a bruised heap.
"Who the hell hit me?!"