?Chapter 496:


    The rare weekend race had drawn crowds of motorsport fans. Some people even carried binocrs, scanning the massive venue for the best views.


    As soon as Ethan’s leather shoes touched the asphalt, his phone rang. He wedged it between his ear and shoulder while pulling Brenna’s racing suit from the trunk.


    His grip tightened on the phone. “Fix this before Monday, or you can pack up your things and leave,” he said, his voice cold.


    Once he hung up, Brenna asked, “Something wrong?”


    “Just a small issue at one of the branches. Nothing serious,” Ethan replied.


    Brenna didn’t give it much thought, but Ethan’s instincts red. The Ward family held sway in the region of that branch. For a problem to suddenly erupt there, today of all days, was too much of a coincidence.


    At the prep hall entrance, Ethan handed Brenna a document bag. “I need to take care of it. Wait here.”


    Brenna nodded and stepped inside alone.


    Heads turned the moment she walked in. She immediately spotted Jade in the center of a small crowd, Isabe hovering nearby with a ttering smile. Jade smiled faintly at her circle. “Can’t tell if she’s brave or foolish. She actually came. Miss Barrett, if you pull this off, you will get what you want.”


    Then she grabbed her handbag and left the group with a light tone. “I need to go talk strategy with my co-driver.”


    The others smiled politely as Jade walked away.


    Brenna recognized the faces—Isabe, of course, but also Rosie, now walking again, her friend Vivian, and a few other socialites she only vaguely remembered.


    Rosie led the group toward Brenna, with the rest tagging along like satellites. Brenna didn’t move.


    “You’re actually racing?” Rosie asked, clearly surprised. Brenna’s equestrian sess had already changed her perspective, but she hadn’t expected Brenna to know how to race.


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    Brenna settled into the leather chair, her expression cold. From her handbag, she retrieved a tablet, its glow casting sharp light across her features as she scanned Thiago’s track analytics and race strategy.


    Rosie slipped into the seat beside her, uninvited. “When did you pick up this particr skill?” she asked, her curiosity evident.


    She gave Brenna a once-over—slim frame, smooth hands, not a trace of wear or callus. Brenna didn’t have the hands of a seasoned racer.


    The thought of Brenna crashing sparked a flicker of thrill Rosie barely managed to hide.


    “Racing isn’t like horseback riding,” Rosie said with sudden gravity. “One wrong move, and the car won’t just stop—it’ll tear itself apart, maybe take you with it.”


    Isabe also spoke to Brenna, her voice sharp. “You always need the spotlight. Aren’t you afraid of flipping the car?”


    Brenna looked up. “Yet, you are also here.”


    “I’m just here to watch the race,” Isabe said. “Having a license doesn’t make you a racer. Those tracks out there—gravel, mud, uneven terrain—they’ll eat amateurs alive. With your basic skills, you won’tst ap.”


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