Three years spent tucked away as a housewife had blunted Scarlett's racing skills—she could feel the difference deep in her muscles.
That final, daring overtake through the curve had drained more out of her than it ever used to.
When she was lost in thought, Charlie and his friends were already dismounting.
The look on Charlie's face was worth every drop of sweat—his eyes wide, mouth parting in stunned disbelief as he took in Scarlett's motorcycle. That sleek frame, the custom paint, the signature hum—everything screamed of one name: Lightning, Asher's legendary motorcycle.
But how could this woman before him possibly be riding that? Was she involved with Asher? His secret lover, perhaps?
Charlie's mind whirled, chasing one wild scenario after another.
Just then, Scarlett unclipped her helmet and lifted it free. The breeze swept across the track, tossing her freshly shorn hair against her cheeks, revealing a strikingly beautiful face.
Every head turned toward her, including Charlie's.
A jolt of disbelief crossed his face, awe tangled with shock.
"S-Scarlett..."
His voice trembled.
He stumbled closer, circling her like he couldn't trust his own eyes.
"Is that really you?" he muttered, his tone uncertain. "I can't wrap my head around it. You know how to race? Does Asher have any idea you're out here?"
In Charlie's eyes, Scarlett had always been the quiet, well-mannered housewife—the woman who'd once saved Asher and married him because of it.
She knew how to race? And she was so skilled at it?
The idea shattered everything he thought he knew.
Scarlett angled her chin, a faint, cold smile touching her lips. "What's wrong? You think women don't belong on a track? And do I have to report everything I do to my husband?"
The words hit like a slap. Charlie's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Had he known she was Scarlett, he never would've dared to mock her.
After all, everyone knew Asher's temper—who would be foolish enough to cross his wife?
Their exchange hadn't gone unnoticed.
The people nearby, lounging by their motorcycles, had caught every word, and murmurs rippled through the crowd.
This woman was Asher's wife?
Suddenly, everything clicked—the composure, the skill, the way she commanded that motorcycle...
Naturally, the woman married to a man like Asher would be nothing short of remarkable.
Thinking of that, no one dared utter another word—until Eric, the last racer Scarlett had overtaken, stepped forward with a skeptical arch of his brow. "With skills like that, how come I've never seen your name on Aneville's racing leaderboard?"
Scarlett's lips curved into a calm, knowing smile. She gave no reply.
That Aneville's rankings meant nothing to her. Once, her name had been etched onto far greater ranks—those that stretched across the world.
But that chapter of her life was buried, and she had no desire to revisit it now.
Scarlett turned to look at the group of people. "Anyway, a bet's a bet. Move it—across the court, twenty rounds. Frog jumps. Don't skip a single one."
A chorus of groans erupted.
These weren't ordinary racers but heirs with pedigrees and polished shoes.
The mere thought of squatting and hopping like children while the crowd watched made blood drained from their faces. They couldn't stand the humiliation.
They, realizing this fearless woman was none other than Charlie's cousin-in-law, began murmuring and elbowing him, urging him to step in—plead their case before humiliation set in.
Charlie cleared his throat and stepped closer to Scarlett, dropping his voice to a low murmur. "Scarlett... for Asher's sake, maybe let this one go. Everyone's got their pride."
Scarlett shifted her weight, crossing her arms with deliberate ease, a cool, teasing smile ghosting over her lips. "If pride's what you're clinging to, then show it—keep your word. And as for Asher..."
Her eyes hardened, the smile fading. "He no longer matters to me."
Charlie blinked, caught off guard by her words. He wanted to ask her why. But before he could do that, Scarlett leaned casually against the motorcycle as she tilted her head toward the court and spoke. "What's the holdup? Get moving. I'll be watching."
A ripple of dread passed through the group. The heirs glanced at one another, faces paling as the reality of their situation sank in.
