Chapter 93

As Brinley and Austin arrived back at Hillcrest Villa, the butler was overseeing the staff as they packed supplies into the vehicle.

Numerous crates were piled near the doorway, appearing quite weighty.

"What's all this?" Brinley asked, her brow arching curiously.

"Replacement parts and safety. equipment arranged for you," Austin replied casually, loosening his jacket with an easy demeanor. "A mechanic will be on-site to tweak anything necessary."

Brinley's thoughts drifted to that past incident when her brakes had given out-a memory that now made Austin's concern perfectly clear. Still, she couldn't resist teasing him. "So all this fuss is because you're worried about me? Just so you know, I might lose badly. All this gear will be wasted on me."

Austin grinned. "Even if you finish dead last, the equipment has to meet top-tier standards.You're my wife-I would never give you anything less."

His words left Brinley momentarily speechless, and she watched his back as he walked away,humming softly before heading to the kitchen.

That night, after bathing, Brinley sprawled on her bed, the soft glow of her bedside lamp illuminating a detailed racetrack map. Every curve and braking zone was precisely annotated.

Her focus lingered on a tricky sequence of S-curves, her fingers absentmindedly tracing their path on the sheets as a question nagged at her.

Should she ask if Austin would be at the race tomorrow?

She ultimately brushed the thought aside.

Whether he was a casual racer or the elusive Nightblade who had disappeared from the spotlight, it was irrelevant. Her mission for tomorrow's race was clear.

She would finish the challenge and prove her abilities beyond any skepticism.

She flicked off the lamp,letting the room fall into darkness.

Shutting hereyes, Brinley banished the swirling doubts and soon drifted into a deep slumber.

The next morning, her internal clock woke her.

After freshening up and slipping into her gear, she grabbed her bag and stepped out. The living room was quiet. She saw a warm cup of milk on the dining table, with a note tucked beneath it in Austin's handwriting."Don't forget breakfast-and have this before you go."

Brinley took a sip of the milk, and its warmth spread through her, sparking an unexpected comfort.

As she reached the door to change her shoes, her phone buzzed with Austin's message. "You've got this.Wishing youa smooth race."

The brief message grounded her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

Brinley typed back a quick "Thanks" and left.

Unbeknownst to her, Austin watched from a second-floor window, his gaze lingering until her car vanished from the villa grounds.

The international exhibition.race was set at a professional circuit on the city's outskirts.

The entrance's digital display cycled through the names of thirty racers-veterans and rising talents, all prominent in the racing scene.

Brinley parked in a secluded corner of the competitors' lot, donning a plain gray work jacket and tucking her distinctive long hair under a cap to stay unrecognized.

She popped the trunk and slid into the unassuming white racecar Austin had provided.

Devoid of logos, it looked ordinary next to the heavily modified vehicles nearby. "Well, look who's here-Brinley?" a cocky voice called out.

Turning, she saw three men in logo-covered racing suits.

Leading them was Ballard Clayton, a frequent third-place finisher in local circuits, flanked by his regular companions, Dominik Norris and Jaxon Frazier.

Their faces sported sly grins, their approach clearly intentional.

"What's up?" Brinley asked coolly, her hand steady on the car's door handle.

Ballard smirked, his voice loud and mocking. "Just stopping by to see how you're doing. It's rare to see a real estate developer at a racetrack."

Dominik jumped in, "Yeah, I heard you can't even pull off a drift. Tell you what: take a one-minute head start.Maybe then you'll be able to keep up."

The nearby racers erupted in laughter, their sharp stares cutting through her.

Brinley saw through their taunts, suspecting Milly's involvement.

That morning, the PR team had flagged new online rumors accusing her of exploiting the exhibition race for business promotion.

Ignoring them, she swung open the car door and settled into the driver's seat. As she moved to close it,Jaxon leaned on the frame, his tone flippant. "Hold on, Brinley. How about a bet? If you make it through the first lap, I'll eat this car!"

"Step back," she said sharply, her icy glare forcing Jaxon to let go.

The plain white racecar rolled forward, their jeers fading into the background.

Brinley exhaled slowly, redirecting her focus to the track ahead.

This wasn't the moment to get distracted-her mission was to conceal Rosara's skill and accomplish her goal.

As she reached the competitors' staging area, a mob of reporters rushed toward her, their microphones nearly breaching the car window.