Beneath the mask, his features were still strikingly handsome. His magnetic personality and innate nobility made him unforgettable at first sight.
Bryson ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair and grinned at Hannah.
“Tequila, you live up to the hype.”
Hannah was stunned. She had never thought Moonshadow would turn out to be Bryson.
Rumor had it that the Mitchell family’s fortune originated in real estate and had lasted through five affluent generations. However, in Bryson’s father’s era, family wealth became a fierce battlefield due to numerous offspring.
Bryson’s father was an useless womanizer whose only legacy was fathering illegitimate children who never made it onto the family tree. Eventually, Bryson, the lone son of the mysteriously vanished Mrs. Mitchell, reclaimed his place in the family.
He ousted all those vying for the family’s assets and became the Mitchell patriarch. In the last couple of years, he had shifted the family business toward finance while also excelling in emerging sectors.
Contrary to expectations, Bryson was unapproachable, ruling with a style that was as decisive as it was ruthless.
Curiosity filled Hannah. She had never guessed that a man so stiff and distant in professional life would enjoy such daring, untamed private pursuits.
She looked down, her shadow merging with the ground, her emotions a tangled web.
“Miss Moore… and your friend, care to join me for lunch?” Bryson suddenly asked. Seeing her puzzled expression, he clarified, “I’d like to apologize for my earlier rashness.”
Hannah responded with candid warmth, nodding and smiling at him.
“Your hospitality is much appreciated.”
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Afterward, they headed to the observation deck before changing their outfits. As Hannah emerged from the changing room, Lydia was still fuming.
“You threw the race intentionally, didn’t you?”
Exasperated, Hannah replied, “I don’t even know him well. Why would I lose on purpose? No one’s paying me off.”
Confused, Lydia countered, “Your drifting used to be lightning-fast; you never lagged even after five laps. How could you mess up?”
Hannah glanced down at her callused hands, hardened from years of domestic Labor.
“These hands are the reason. The feeling of holding the steering wheel is different now.” She displayed them to Lydia, shrugging.
“It’s been four years since I last touched a racing car.
At this, Lydia’s frustration escalated.
“If not for that jerk, you would never have…”
“Who are you badmouthing?”
Sadie, Eliana and Declan appeared just as Lydia was speaking.