Liam Winston stood on the viewing platform, his gaze locked on the competition arena.
He murmured to Chloe Evans, "We're meeting an important client later. Remember to say all the right things—wish him victory."
"For someone at his level, winning or losing doesn't matter. Just give the proper compliments."
Lately, Liam had been restless.
Especially after that auction night when he'd foolishly tried to reconcile with Sophia Sullivan in the rain.
Only to be met with her icy scorn.
It all came down to power. He swore she'd regret this.
"Don't worry, Liam. I won't let you down."
Chloe's voice dripped honey. "Focus on your business. I'll be good."
Her obedience should've pleased him, but his thoughts kept drifting to Sophia.
That woman would never simper like this. She'd handle everything with cool efficiency.
Now they were strangers.
Suppressing the strange ache in his chest, Liam ruffled Chloe's hair.
"You're always so understanding."
But Chloe's mind was elsewhere, plotting her escape.
"Liam, my makeup's smudged. I'll freshen up in the restroom."
She lifted her clutch with a practiced smile. "An attendant will show me the way. You prepare for your meeting."
Her lips brushed his cheek.
"You're most attractive when you're working seriously."
"Hmm." Liam thought he was going mad.
His first love stood beside him, yet all he could picture was his ex-wife's sharp gaze.
Meanwhile, Chloe burned to get away, her mind filled with dark schemes.
"I'll be back soon."
Assuming her usual considerate act, Liam watched her disappear into the crowd before turning to the noisy stadium. "Call if you need anything."
Chloe glanced back with a tender nod. "Of course."
Once hidden in the crowd, she slipped into a secluded corner.
After carefully reapplying her makeup, she video-called Zachary Sullivan.
She gasped at the screen. "Zachary! What happened to you?"
The man resembled a mummy—face bruised, body swathed in bandages.
Then she remembered their abruptly ended call.
"Was this from Potter's Town?"
Zachary sneered. "Some 'accident.' If this was coincidence, I'll stand on my head and wash it."
His venomous gaze swept over his immobilized form.
This humiliation had been orchestrated.
Chloe ventured, "Ethan Sullivan? No wonder our call cut off. I've been so worried."
Her eyes instantly welled with unshed tears.
"Why didn't you tell me? I couldn't reach you for days..."
Zachary scoffed, angling the camera with his uninjured hand to display the bandages.
"Unconscious for days. Couldn't exactly call." His tone turned mocking. "But you? One call. Such concern."
Chloe nearly rolled her eyes.
The idiot actually believed her act.
Forcing a tremble into her voice, she whispered, "Liam monitors my calls. I risked coming here just for your plan."
Her nose pinkened artfully.
"If I didn't care about your scheme, why would I take this chance?"
Zachary's eyes narrowed. "Has Ethan arrived?"
If that bastard didn't show, their plan would fail.
Fresh hatred burned through him as he studied his wounds.
Nothing good ever came from Ethan Sullivan.
"...Not yet."
Chloe frowned at the arena. "Most racers are anonymous—helmets, masks, even decoys. Hard to identify targets."
The chaotic venue provided cover but made precision difficult.
Zachary's voice turned sinister. "Relax. He'll come for the heirloom."
His father's contemptuous "useless" during the hospital visit flashed through his mind.
Useless?
He'd make Ethan Sullivan truly worthless.
"I planted a timed explosive in the prize case. No remote trigger—it detonates automatically."
This was his gamble.
That Ethan wouldn't abandon their family relic.
If he lost? No matter. The dead wouldn't be him.
Chloe's blood ran cold. She hadn't signed up for murder.
"What if someone else wins—"
"Then they're unlucky."
Zachary's face twisted grotesquely.
After the accident, his father called him useless. His mother, a fool.
But he'd done nothing wrong.
The world was at fault.
Whoever touched that prize would die.
Chloe swallowed hard.
She wouldn't throw away her bright future.
If this blew up without powerful backing, prison awaited.
"Don't be extreme. I have a better idea."
She softened her tone. "I entered a proxy who'll win by any means. Once we have the prize, we can openly threaten Ethan."
She bore Ethan no real grudge—only resentment from repeated rejections.
If she couldn't have him, she'd break him.
"If my man fails, then detonate it."
She resolved silently:
If this madman insisted on bombing, she'd cut ties immediately.
"Fine." Zachary suppressed his killing intent. "But he will pay."