By the time Lily Stone circled the living room for the twenty-first time, she couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number.
It was clear to her now—this had Sophie Grant's mischievous fingerprints all over it.
Honestly, it wasn't hard to figure out. John Knight might have been clueless, but Lily knew better. One look at the "9" on Sophia Turner's door and it all made sense. Still, what could she do about it?
Sophie had a long track record of chaos. Even now, she sat there looking smug, like she was watching a soap opera unfold. Talking sense into her would be a complete waste of breath.
Right now, the priority was finding Sophia Turner before something bad happened.
"Sophia, where are you?" Lily blurted out as soon as the line connected after several rings.
"Stone sis! I'm at North Hill racing! It's packed, super fun!" Sophia's voice on the other end sounded lively, not a trace of anger left. The noise of engines and shouting echoed behind her.
Lily let out a long breath of relief. Sophia's temper was like a summer storm—intense, but over as quickly as it started. It seemed the worst had passed.
But Lily's worry returned just as fast. North Hill? That place was notorious—the most dangerous part of the city where someone died every month. This girl is going to give me a heart attack one day!
"Stone sis, should we call her back?" Sophie Grant asked sweetly, looking innocent as ever, without even a hint of guilt.
"She won't come back now. Not while she's mid-race," Lily replied, knowing Sophia far too well.
"Oh… but what if something happens to her out there?" Sophie pouted, resting her chin in her hands. "Like running into some creep… someone like John Knight!" she added with a mischievous grin.
John Knight could barely hold back from covering her mouth. Why does everything end up being about me?!
"You!" Lily suddenly pointed at him.
"Huh?" John Knight flinched.
"Come with me. Sophia's in North Hill—we're going to find her," Lily commanded.
"Oh! Got it!" John sighed in relief, thinking Lily was about to tear into him. But wait—wasn't she a huge star? Shouldn't she have security or something? Then he remembered—I am the security. Guess he was officially on duty.
John knew North Hill well. There was a reservoir there where he used to swim as a kid. Those summer days had made him a strong swimmer—but North Hill wasn't just about scenic lakes. It had a reputation, and not a good one.
Down in the garage, several luxury cars were parked. Lily climbed into a sleek silver BMW.
"Drive."
"I'm driving?"
"You're in the driver's seat, aren't you? Who else would be driving?" Lily shot back, exasperated.
"Uh… thing is… I don't know how to drive."
Lily nearly banged her head against the steering wheel. A bodyguard who can't even drive? What is this guy, a tourist?
"Fine. Get in the passenger seat," she snapped, taking control of the wheel. Even though she knew this wasn't technically his fault, Lily still couldn't help but fume. Sure, treat it like your room—but could you at least put on some damn clothes?!
"Yes, ma'am," John mumbled, sliding into the passenger seat. No point arguing with her now. Even though he felt like none of this was his fault, it didn't take a mind reader to know Lily Stone blamed him for most of it.
Still, he kept quiet and focused on observing her closely.
Handbrake. Clutch. Gas pedal.
Lily's driving was smooth and skillful. In no time, they were cruising toward North Hill.
But the moment they crossed into North Hill's outskirts, John Knight felt it—something was wrong.
That unsettling, bone-deep feeling. The same one he got the day Charles Turner lured him to that underground parking garage, straight into a trap.
"Careful, something feels off," John Knight suddenly said, eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean? How do you know?" Lily Stone glanced around but saw nothing unusual.
"Call it instinct," John replied, his expression dead serious.
Lily pursed her lips. She wasn't entirely convinced, but she eased off the gas, slowing the car down.
As they reached a fork in the road, John pointed. "Take this road."
"That one? But it says 'Construction Ahead.'"
"It's fake."
"Fake? How can you tell?"
"For starters, the handwriting is sloppy. Second, the paint's still wet—it was done recently. Most importantly, I know this road. It was freshly paved just a few months ago. No way they'd be tearing it up again already. Someone put that sign here to block off the road—probably to create a makeshift racetrack. Since Sophia came here to race, this is the way she'd go."
Lily shot him a look, silently impressed by his attention to detail. Sure enough, she noticed the fresh black asphalt beneath them—it was a new road, smooth and perfect for racing.
What Lily didn't know was that John Knight had spent years as a small-time hustler, where being hyper-aware of his surroundings was a survival skill.
They hadn't gone far before they heard pounding music in the distance. The kind of chaotic, bass-heavy sound that could only mean one thing. A makeshift street party.
Dozens of people were dancing wildly in the road, bodies twisting and writhing to the beat. Some girls, dressed provocatively, were whipping their heads back and forth like they were on something.
A row of cars lined both sides of the street, two parked dead center, blocking traffic. Among them—Sophia Turner's bright red Ferrari.
Lily frowned. What the hell is Sophia doing hanging around with these kinds of people?
"You stay in the car. I'll go get her," John said firmly.
"She doesn't exactly like you right now. Let me go instead." Lily reached for the door handle.
"This place is crawling with troublemakers. You're a public figure, and even with makeup, you stand out. A woman like you walking into that crowd? It's asking for trouble. I'm a guy—I'll handle it."
Something in his tone made Lily's heart flutter, but she quickly masked it. After a brief hesitation, she nodded. "If anything happens, call me immediately."
John nodded, then stepped out and headed straight into the chaos.
"C'mon, babe, how long you gonna make us wait?" a sleazy-looking guy with greasy, curled hair and metal rings everywhere leaned against Sophia's Ferrari. "You gonna pick someone or what? If not, I'm getting in the car with you. You're testing our patience."
"Yeah, let Curly have a go already! We're sick of waiting!"
"C'mon, sweetheart, quit stalling."
The group of men egged each other on, their grins growing filthier by the second.
"What's going on here?" John Knight asked coldly, stepping up behind Curly.
"John Knight?" To his surprise, Sophia's eyes lit up when she saw him. She actually looked relieved, like a damsel spotting her knight in shining armor.
"Who the hell are you?" Curly spun around, clearly irritated by the interruption.
"I said, what's going on here?" John's voice dropped, laced with a sharp edge. Ever since taking down those professional bodyguards in that underground garage, he'd felt more confident than ever. These street punks weren't even worth worrying about.
Curly flinched slightly at the sudden intensity radiating from John Knight and immediately thought twice about throwing a punch. "This chick here wants to race, but rules are rules. She's gotta have a passenger. Since she couldn't find one, I was just offering my services."
Damn it, like hell I'm letting this pierced-up freak get involved. Who does he think he is, a walking pincushion? John Knight cursed silently, though his face stayed calm.
"Sophia, come with me. We're done here," John said, voice calm but firm.
"Done?" Curly sneered, like he'd just heard the punchline to a joke. The whole crowd burst into laughter behind him.
"First time here, huh, tough guy?" Curly grinned darkly. "Sure, you can leave—but the car stays."
"No way!" Sophia snapped from the driver's seat, her voice sharp. "This car was a birthday gift from my dad—it's a limited edition. I'm not leaving it behind for you scumbags."
John's eyes flickered with thought, then he shrugged. "Fine. We'll race. She just needs a partner, right? I'll ride with her."
"You? Who the hell are you to her?" Curly asked, annoyed. "I called dibs first, you know."
John smirked. "Me? I'm her boyfriend. Problem?"
Sophia nearly choked on her own breath. This bastard! How dare he take advantage of me like this?! Pervert! Freak! Shameless scumbag!
But as furious as she was, she couldn't deny it—not here.
As much as she despised John Knight, having him around was still a hundred times better than letting this pierced-up creep anywhere near her. Curly gave off such bad vibes he didn't even qualify as "human" in her book.
Curly, clearly shocked, looked at Sophia. "Babe, you just told us you didn't have a boyfriend. Where'd this guy pop up from?"
"He's my boyfriend, so what? Am I supposed to broadcast it to the world?" Sophia shot back, forcing herself to back John's story even though she wanted to strangle him.
John grinned internally, having read her like an open book. He knew that under these circumstances, Sophia had no choice but to play along. Might as well enjoy the win while it lasts.
Curly was visibly frustrated, realizing he'd just lost his shot at getting inside Sophia's car—or anywhere near her, for that matter.
"Alright then," Sophia snapped, redirecting her anger to the road. "Now that I have a partner, who's racing me?"
"I will," Curly growled, shooting a deadly glare at John before nodding at a provocatively dressed woman to hop into his Porsche.
John climbed into the Ferrari, and Sophia instinctively scooted as far from him as possible.
"You brought your phone, right? Hand it over," John said.
"What for?"
"To call your dear Stone sister. She's waiting nearby. Can't leave her worrying, can we?"
Hearing that Lily Stone was here too, Sophia hurriedly handed him her pink phone, no longer concerned about John "contaminating" it with his hands.
John made a quick call, explaining the situation to Lily and telling her to head back, promising he'd bring Sophia home safely.
Lily, knowing full well Sophia wouldn't stop until she finished the race, sighed and agreed. Trusting Charles Turner's handpicked bodyguard, she drove the silver BMW away. At least with John there, she could breathe a little easier.
"Hey, sweetheart!" Curly shouted from his Porsche, grinning like the sleazeball he was. "See that chick up front? Once that slut whips off her bra, the race is on!"
In the middle of the road stood a sultry woman clad in a bright red bikini, swaying her hips and eyeing both cars. She threw Curly a wink and then blew John a kiss.
"Pathetic. Trashy beyond belief," Sophia muttered under her breath, disgusted.
Go ahead, sweetheart, let's see you try pulling that move, John thought, barely holding back a smirk.
Suddenly, the woman on the track unclasped her bra and swung it in the air like a flag. The moment she did, two plump, jiggling breasts bounced free, glowing under the streetlights.
Whoa! Those are real! John Knight felt the urge to nosebleed on the spot. Sure, he'd seen bare chests before—but only in "educational videos." This was his first time seeing the real thing.
He couldn't help but glance at Sophia Turner and instantly thought back to when she had accidentally "stolen" his own… innocence. Well, at least I get a little payback, even if it's someone else's.
As the bra waved, Curly's Porsche shot off like a bullet.
Sophia, however, was frozen. Raised in privilege, spoiled but sheltered, she had never witnessed such a brazen act before.
My God… Did that woman just—take it off? In public?! The shock on Sophia's face rivaled that of seeing John Knight's "equipment" earlier.
Two traumatic experiences in one day left her completely stunned, staring blankly at the road.
"Hey, he's already gone," John reminded her.
"Huh? Oh no!" Sophia snapped out of it, fumbled to start the Ferrari, and floored it. The engine roared as they chased after the Porsche.
John Knight couldn't help but glance back one last time. Damn… could've stared a bit longer. He shook his head regretfully. Those were almost as big as Sophie Grant's!
"You pervert! Wipe that stupid grin off your face! What's so great about that?" Sophia snapped, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Well, you don't let me look, and besides, hers are bigger... and clearly way more liberated, John thought, smirking to himself while trying to imagine what Sophia's might look like under that attitude.
Seeing John's lecherous face, Sophia seriously considered kicking him out of the car. This bastard! All men are pigs!
Infuriated, she slammed on the gas, the Ferrari surging forward as they quickly closed the distance on the Porsche.
To be fair, Sophia's driving was impressive. With a sharp turn and some quick thinking, she used the roadside drainage ditch to her advantage, executing a perfect maneuver and overtaking the Porsche.
"Yes! Overtake! Ha, I'm awesome!" Sophia shouted triumphantly, completely forgetting about John Knight's ogling just moments ago. "Think you can beat me? Not in this lifetime!"
While Sophia was caught up in her adrenaline rush, John's eyes narrowed. In the exact moment they overtook the Porsche, he finally realized what had been bothering him.
It was Curly—the guy behind the wheel.
The reason was simple. Curly had an earpiece in.
No serious racer would ever listen to music during a race—they needed full concentration. That earpiece wasn't for tunes. It was for communication.
In official races, sure, drivers might stay in touch with pit crews. But here? This was a back-alley street race. Who the hell needed a headset here?
Unless… Unless this was a setup.
Looks like someone really is targeting Sophia Turner tonight.
But now that John had figured it out, he smiled coldly to himself. Well, too bad for them.
Casually, John grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the Ferrari's cupholder, took a sip, then opened the window and tossed it out.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?! You can't just throw trash out during a race!" Sophia snapped, clearly annoyed. "Even if you don't hit anyone, you'll damage the plants or something!"
Still thinks this is just a race, John mused, biting back a laugh.
Before she could finish her rant, the Porsche behind them let out a strange screech, swerving violently before spinning out of control and slamming headfirst into the stone wall at the side of the road.