Brinley had safely dropped Corbin off at his apartment, watching him disappear through the entrance before pulling away into the night.

Her return journey wound through a desolate stretch of road where streetlights cast faint pools of light, barely piercing the darkness. Her headlights struggled to illuminate the path ahead, the world beyond her windshield shrouded in shadow.

As she navigated a sharp curve, a black SUV roared into view, hurtling toward her in the wrong lane.

With instincts honed as a professional racer, Brinley reacted instantly, swerving to avoid disaster.

But the other driver, undeterred, barreled forward without a hint of caution.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the two cars collided. The impact sent Brinley’s car spinning out of control, flipping in a chaotic tumble as glass fragments scattered like stars across the asphalt.

The world whirled around her in a dizzying blur. Thankfully, her seatbelt held firm, and her moderate speed spared her from serious injury.

Steadying her nerves, Brinley wrestled with the seatbelt, unbuckled it, and forced the crumpled door open. She crawled out of the wreckage and pushed herself upright.

Five figures spilled out of the SUV. Leading them was a man in a garish floral shirt, his breath thick with the sour reek of alcohol.

Instead of apologizing, he stormed toward Brinley, jabbing a finger in her face. “Are you trying to get us killed? Your car crawled along like that, clogging up the road! If you can’t handle a car, go back home!”

The darkness veiled Brinley’s features, but it only seemed to embolden his arrogance.

Brinley crouched to retrieve her phone. Its screen was splintered with cracks, yet it still flickered to life.

She lifted her gaze to the group before her, her eyes hardening to ice. “First of all, this accident happened because of your reckless driving. I’ve already been generous enough by not pressing charges. Second, my car may be old, but it’s mine, and you have no right to mock it. Third, we can settle this privately, but only through proper channels—not on your arbitrary terms.”

The man’s face twisted with anger at her defiance. He lunged, reaching for her arm, his voice a snarl. “You bitch! How dare you talk to me like that!”

Brinley sidestepped deftly, putting distance between them. Her tone remained cold and steady. “Touch me, and you’ll regret it. You’re drunk, you caused this crash, and the law won’t look kindly on you.”

“Drunk? Who says I’m drunk?” he roared, lunging again for Brinley’s wrist, his curses venomous. “You’re asking for trouble—today I’ll teach you a lesson.”

Brinley dodged once more, her movements swift and precise.

Just then, a pair of headlights pierced the night. A black car approached steadily before stopping at the roadside.

The door flew open, and Colin emerged, his presence commanding.

Fresh from a business dinner and on his way to drop off a friend, he had stumbled upon the scene by chance.

Spotting Brinley cornered by the belligerent group, with the floral-shirted man advancing, Colin strode forward, seized the man’s wrist, and twisted it sharply.

The man yelped, his bravado crumbling. “Ouch!”

Brinley’s eyes widened in recognition, her brow furrowing.

It was Colin.

“Mr. Palmer?” the man froze, his drunken haze lifting as he realized who stood before him.

In Bleron, the Palmer family carried weight, and he—a petty thug—knew better than to cross them.

Colin’s gaze, laced with worry, fixed on Brinley. “Are you alright, Brinley? Did they lay a hand on you?”

He stepped closer, instinctively placing himself between her and the group. His eyes flicked briefly toward the passenger seat of his car before snapping back.

Brinley’s focus stayed on the wreckage, oblivious to whoever sat in Colin’s vehicle.

She eased back half a step, subtly distancing herself from his protective stance, and replied with cool restraint, “I’m fine, Mr. Palmer. Thank you.”

Her detached tone stung Colin, though he quickly concealed it, his face settling into calm composure.

Turning to the man, Colin’s expression hardened to steel. “Do you have any idea who she is? You dare threaten someone under my protection? Are you begging for trouble?”

His words carried the weight of authority, sending a ripple of fear through the group. The man faltered, his swagger dissolving, while his companions shrank back, their earlier boldness evaporating.

Sensing their hesitation, Colin pressed his advantage, his voice low and unyielding. “You’re well aware of the Palmer family’s reach in Bleron. Apologize to her now, cover every cent of the damage, and get out of here.”

The man didn’t hesitate. Fumbling with his wallet, he produced a thick stack of cash and thrust it toward Brinley, his head bowed in contrition. “I’m so sorry. Please, take this for your car. If it’s not enough, I’ll make it right!”

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