Chapter 3

Nina

I opened my mouth, staring at him blankly, unable to utter a single word.

It wasn't that I hadn't imagined our reunion. I'd pictured myself carefree, brushing past him like two strangers. But I had overestimated myself. As it turned out, I was the one who had never let go of the past.

My fingernails dug into my palms, and the pain brought me back to my senses. I wanted to run, but my feet seemed glued to the ground, refusing to move.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know."

It was a long while before I heard my own voice, dry and hoarse.

I didn't know this was his home, didn't know he was the one having the car modified, didn't know he'd be here... But whatever I said now would sound hollow and useless.

"You didn't know?"

A cold sneer curled at the corner of Liam's lips as he took a step toward me, his tall frame looming over me.

"Someone like you—aren't you the expert at latching onto rich men?"

The words pierced my heart like a needle, a fine, stinging pain. But his cruel remarks didn't stop there.

"Now that you know this is my house, what do you plan to do next? Put on a show and reminisce about old times, or just name your price?"

I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood, then shoved him away with all my strength and ran for the exit.

This wasn't like me at all. With any other man, I would have slapped him across the face and flipped him off. But faced with him, I was nothing but a coward fleeing in disgrace.

I hadn't even made it out of the garage before I crashed into someone.

"Whoa~ Sweetheart, careful there!"

An exaggerated voice came from above me. I looked up to see a middle-aged man in a hip-hop denim outfit. He had a permed afro and wore tinted glasses. The moment he saw my face, his eyes lit up, his voice theatrical. "You must be the 'Wrench Queen'! I didn't expect you to be such a knockout!"

"I'm Kyle, Liam's manager. I'm the one who had Jack contact you—I posted that job, too. I checked out several modification shops, but they either didn't dare take it on or their skills were lousy. Then a friend in the industry recommended you, said you were absolutely brilliant!"

He turned back to Liam, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. "Liam, this is that modification genius I told you about. If she tunes this race car, we're sure to win next month's championship!"

Liam said nothing. He only watched me with a faint, ambiguous smile that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Wrench Queen—what a commanding name. But then again..."

He paused, gazing at me somberly. "Didn't you say you'd never touch a race car again for the rest of your life?"

"Same as ever, it seems. Lying's become quite the habit for you."

I didn't answer. I even felt a flicker of shame, pressing on the wound in my palm to keep myself from losing composure.

"Sorry, I won't be taking this job. You'll have to find someone else."

A flash of astonishment crossed Kyle's eyes. He glanced at me, then at Liam, as if he'd just stumbled upon the biggest piece of gossip in the world.

"Do you two... know each other?"

"No!" I answered quickly, before Liam could speak. "I'm just a mechanic. How could I possibly know someone like him?"

He was the sole heir the illustrious Cranston family had reclaimed. The Cranstons were a top-tier dynasty spanning a century, their members entrenched across the military, government, and business worlds.

He himself was accomplished enough. At eighteen, he'd earned his FIA Super License; at twenty, he'd won the F1 World Championship, making him the youngest champion in F1 history and a godlike figure in the entire racing world.

Beyond racing, he commanded respect in the world of finance as well. Rumor had it he'd founded several companies across Asia and Europe. I'd once seen him on a televised financial program, holding forth in a Wall Street office in a tailored suit—a picture of refined nobility, worlds apart from the wild, flamboyant presence he cut on the racetrack.

People really are so different from one another. Some are born standing at the top of the pyramid, while people like me are destined to wallow in the mud from the day we're born—clawing our way up, only ever managing to reach the dust scraped off the bottom of his shoes.

An unreadable soft laugh sounded behind me. Liam's voice drifted over my shoulder. "Why turn it down—is the money not enough? Aren't you the kind who'll do anything as long as the price is right?"

At his words, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze, and I stood rooted to the spot.

Three years ago, he had stood before me the very same way, hurling this same accusation.

Before the Cranston family reclaimed him, Liam had been nothing but an orphan with no parents.

My grandmother volunteered at the welfare home, often bringing homemade treats for the children there. Of all the kids, he was the most unusual—unlike the others who scrambled over Grandma's donuts, he always lingered at the edge of the crowd with a defiant look on his face.

I grew curious about him and slowly drew closer, only to discover, to my delight, that he shared my fascination with cars. Though I had my grandparents, I had no mother or father either. He and I were so alike that our two lonely hearts were naturally drawn to each other.

Together we passed through our youth, and in those tender years of first love, we fell for each other beyond all reason.

He'd shown extraordinary talent for racing since the age of fifteen. He started out making money in underground races, then gradually turned professional. He once promised me that when he won the F1 trophy, he would propose.

I thought we would go on being happy forever—until the Cranstons found me.

They offered me ten million to leave Liam. I had never believed our love could be measured in money, and I flatly refused. But when they used my grandparents as a threat, I had no choice but to give in.

On the very day he held up his trophy to propose, I hurled it to the ground and told him to get lost. I said I'd already fallen in love with someone else, and that he should never come near me again.

I forced myself out of the memory, unwilling to show him even a shred of weakness. My expression was as flippant as ever. "You're right."

"As long as you can afford the price, I'll do whatever you want."

The look in Liam's eyes was complicated—icy, yet carrying something I couldn't decipher.

"Kyle, have the lawyer draw up a contract. Raise the fee to one million and get this Wrench Queen to sign it. The car has to be modified until I'm satisfied. And if I'm not satisfied—"

He paused, his tone hardening to something almost cruel. "She pays double the penalty for breach of contract."

Kyle snapped back to attention at that, his gaze sweeping between the two of us several more times before he nodded. "Got it."

With that, Liam walked past me. But after a couple of steps he stopped and turned his face to the side. In the backlight, his jawline was sharp as if cut by a blade, those dark green eyes hidden in shadow.

"Starting today, you'll live here. There's a guest room next to the garage. I'll have your things prepared."

"If anything goes wrong with the car, I need to be able to find someone at a moment's notice."

My eyes widened in surprise. I wanted to say something, but he gave me no chance at all.

His retreating figure grew smaller and smaller, until it vanished at the far end of the garden.