The lounge on the second floor was bathed in dim amber light.
Julian Roscente swirled the amber liquid in his glass.
He reclined against the leather sofa, his gaze fixed on the man across from him.
"That car accident involving Zachary Sullivan—you orchestrated it."
His tone wasn't questioning. It was a statement.
Ethan Sullivan didn’t respond.
He was preoccupied with adjusting his black leather gloves.
The edges hugged his wrists perfectly, accentuating their sharp lines.
Julian chuckled and downed his drink in one go.
"I heard that idiot offended Miss Sophia."
"Didn’t expect you to make a move, though."
He set the glass down, the clink against the table crisp and clear.
"After all, you’ve endured it for years."
The dirty secrets of the Sullivan family were no mystery to Julian.
Years ago, Mrs. Sullivan had held the reins of the conglomerate—until her sudden, unexplained death.
The old Mr. Sullivan seized 30% of the shares and even married his mistress.
If not for Ethan’s exceptional capabilities, he would’ve been devoured long ago.
Every step he took was calculated—all to reclaim what belonged to his mother.
Zachary’s idiocy only highlighted Ethan’s composure.
But now...
"That bastard father of yours is going to lose his mind."
Julian’s tone dripped with amusement.
Ethan finally looked up.
"Letting him live is mercy enough."
His voice was ice.
He continued adjusting his gloves, fingers flexing slightly.
The leather encased his long fingers, exuding restraint and danger.
Julian was reminded of that imperial portrait at the gallery.
The emperor, too, had worn gloves while gripping his sword.
Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.
Indeed, no one could threaten Ethan Sullivan.
"You should’ve seen him howling in the hospital."
Julian smirked.
"Absolutely priceless."
Ethan remained indifferent.
As if Zachary were nothing more than an insect.
"When does the race start?"
He changed the subject.
"In thirty minutes."
Julian glanced at the draw results in Ethan’s hand.
"None of the B-group racers stand a chance against you."
"But there’s a newcomer."
He tapped his chin, recalling.
"A girl with violet eyes."
"Just got into a fight downstairs. Fiery temper."
"No idea about her driving skills, though."
Ethan stood.
"Doesn’t matter."
His expression was hidden behind the mask.
"She’ll lose anyway."
Julian choked.
"You don’t treat Miss Sophia like this."
He feigned hurt.
"After all I’ve done for you, not even a kind word?"
Ethan adjusted his cuffs.
"The Breeze Perfumes contract can be terminated."
Julian’s face fell instantly.
"Just joking."
He straightened his mask.
"Time to head in."
"My physique is too striking—even a mask can’t hide it."
His tone was smug.
"I’ll handle the pests for you."
With that, he slipped away.
Ethan secured his silver mask and headed toward the waiting area.
The Underground Raceway buzzed with noise.
Yet, his eyes locked onto one figure instantly.
Golden curls like flickering flames.
When their gazes met, the air froze.
The crowd faded into the background.
Those violet eyes...
Too familiar.
Sophia Sullivan caught the whispers around her.
"It’s Zephyr! The reigning champion!"
"Terrible luck today—racing against him."
"Rumor has it someone offered three million to uncover his identity. They regretted it."
"That violet-eyed beauty is in trouble."
She studied the man not far away.
His build was undeniably impressive.
Broad shoulders, long legs.
A deep gray shirt clung to his defined chest.
Black restraints wrapped tightly around his torso, accentuating every muscle.
Leather gloves encased his hands—restrained yet dangerous.
Those eyes...
They reminded her of Ethan.
The announcement cut through her thoughts.
"Racers, take your positions! Prepare by group!"
Sophia smoothly pulled on her helmet.
Whoever he was—
Winning came first.
She needed that heirloom Zachary had mentioned.