Chapter 396:
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âNaturally. First place went to that young lady. You should talk to her and see if sheâs willing to sell it.â
He was genuinely concerned for Kellan, knowing his friendâs demeanor could be⦠intimidating.
Kellan wasnât exactly the type to put people at ease.
âTry being a bit nice for a change,â Ferdinand suggested. âOffer a good deal, but be prepared. She looks like the determined type. Almost as ifâ¦â
âShe cares a lot too,â Kellan finished, his tone heavy with meaning.
While he couldnât be completely sure, Kellan had a strong hunch about who this woman might be.
As for his motherâs relicsâ¦
Kellan had spent years searching for them, so how had they resurfaced here, of all places, as the prize for a racing champion?
When his mother passed, he was just a boy, and many of her belongings had mysteriously vanished, swept away by the hands of his seemingly âkindâ stepmother.
Deep down, Kellan had always harbored doubts, convinced that someone as intelligent and caring as his mother couldnât have simply met an untimely end. The thought gnawed at him constantly.
Suppressing the emotions that threatened to rise, he set his jaw and said with quiet determination, âIâll go talk to her.â
Meanwhile, Allison was walking down the alley. After winning the championship, many people wanted her contact information, but she skillfully evaded them. She was just about to call Amya to check on their progress when a tall figure stepped into her path.
âMiss Sweety, we meet again,â came a deep, smooth voice.
Allison looked up and saw a man leaning casually against the wall. Dressed in a sleek black riding suit and a silver mask, he exuded a magnetic energy that was hard to ignore.
It was Turbo, the mysterious racer sheâd just competed with. She cocked her head slightly and asked, âWhat do you want?â
The man, using a voice changer, replied, âIâm just very curious⦠is Miss Sweety someone I already know?â
Allison couldnât help but laugh at his outdated line.
âThatâs such a cliché.â
People stopped using that line years ago.
Both of them, still masked and using altered voices, clearly had no intention of revealing their true identities. Under the moonlight, the silver and white masks they wore glimmered softly as they faced each other.
Allisonâs eyes swept over him, taking in his strong, commanding posture. His presence was formidable, like a silent, deadly force.
As her gaze moved to his face, she noticed the sharp contours of his jawline. Even behind the mask, his features hinted at a chiseled, rugged handsomeness.
Her attention then drifted to his throat, where a slightly protruding Adamâs apple was marked by a small, barely noticeable red mole.
Wait a secondâ¦
Allison, who had been feeling fairly relaxed, suddenly furrowed her brow.
A red mole?
A memory sparked in her mind.
.
.
.