Chapter 3 A Coincidence
The documents in his hands slipped to the floor, forgotten, as he stared ahead, pulse written plainly across his face.
Their own car was not far behind. Seeing Sophia maneuvering to escape her pursuer, Harold turned to Magnus. "We should help that lady. Looks like she’s about to get into trouble."
Magnus’s gaze never left the road. The red car weaved through traffic recklessly, yet with absolute precision. His voice was distant and cold as he answered, "Don’t worry about it. She can handle her troubles on her own."
Harold’s jaw dropped. "You’re so ruthless! Leaving a woman alone and even in this situation—how can you be so heartless?"
“Shut your mouth,” Magnus snapped, his voice icy. Then, slightly louder, he instructed, “Timothy, increase the speed. Stay close. Follow that car, keep it in sight.”
"Yes, Mr. Graves," Timothy, his secretary, replied, pressing the accelerator. Their car surged forward, closing the distance.
Sophia’s car shot into a narrow street, the kind where only one car could fit.
At the very last second, she twisted the steering wheel sharply and turned.
Her car whipped into the alley with flawless precision, tires screaming as she cut the turn.
The sudden maneuver left the black car behind her completely exposed.
Unable to react in time, the black car barreled straight ahead, slamming into the wall before skidding violently and plunging nose-first into the ditch.
Magnus’ car rolled to a stop just behind her. He watched, unblinking.
"Holy smokes!" Harold gasped, grinning so wide it was almost unhinged. "That was badass!" He craned his neck out of the window, staring at her in awe.
He glanced toward Magnus, who sat back in his seat with unsettling calm, his gaze fixed through the windshield, never once leaving her.
“How did you know she could handle that on her own?” Harold asked, disbelief thick in his voice.
Magnus didn’t answer right away. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile—subtle, proud. He remained silent, eyes tracking her every movement.
He ducked back inside the car, turning to Magnus.
“I’ve never seen anyone drive like that,” he went on, still wide-eyed. He gestured vaguely toward the road. “She has complete control over that car. Even I wouldn’t be able to pull off what she just did.”
Magnus gave a slight nod, barely there. Though he leaned back casually, the surprise in his eyes was unmistakable.
Harold kept staring after the Chevrolet, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward in his seat, squinting as if trying to catch another glimpse. “Wait…” he muttered. “That license plate—001. That looks familiar.”
“It’s a premium number, sir,” Timothy said from the driver’s seat, glancing at the rearview mirror. “Must be worth hundreds of thousands.”
“Millions,” Magnus corrected quietly.
“Hm…” Harold leaned back, frowning, fingers tapping against his thigh as something clicked in his mind. “A ’67 Impala convertible… that dark red color…” His voice slowed, unease creeping in. “Why does it look so familiar?”
At that moment, Sophia pushed the car door open and stepped out, her heels touching the ground first. She straightened slowly, smoothing her mini skirt as the leather jacket settled neatly over her crop top, then shut the door behind her with a soft click.
Unhurried, she walked toward the edge of the road, her heels crunching lightly against the gravel.
Harold craned his head out of the window again, leaning so far forward he nearly fell out of the car, desperate for a better look.
Near the ditch, Sophia stopped and leaned forward slightly, peering down at the wrecked car below. A small, unmistakably victorious smile curved at the corner of her lips.
“Oof,” Harold breathed, his eyes going wide. “Did she just… smile?” His hand flew to his chest in disbelief. “And she’s wearing heels? She drove like that in heels?”
He collapsed back into his seat, spine hitting the leather as he clutched his chest dramatically, then snapped his head toward Magnus, words tumbling out in a breathless rush.
“She’s amazing! She looks like that, she drives like that—and she smiled!” His voice rose with excitement. “I think… I think I love her.”
Before Magnus could even respond, Harold lunged for the door handle, fingers already curling around it. “Just wait here. I’m going to get her number.”
The lock clicked.
In the same instant, Magnus’s eyes snapped to him. His hand shot out, fingers locking tightly around Harold’s arm and yanking him back into the seat.
“No, you won’t,” Magnus said, his voice glacial. “Sit. Down.”
Harold frowned and tried to yank his arm free. “Let go of me, Magnus. What are you doing?” His voice rose with urgency. “I might never meet her again. Don’t make me lose my chance—let go!” He struggled harder, trying to pull his arm out of Magnus’s grip.
Magnus’s head tilted slightly as he met Harold’s eyes and said flatly, “She is not suitable for you.”
“What the fuck?” Harold snapped. “Why wouldn’t she be suitable for me?” He tugged again. “Let go, Magnus!”
However, Magnus didn’t loosen his grip.
Just then, the sharp screech of tires cut through the air. All three heads in the car snapped in that direction, only to see that Sophia was already inside the car. The very next second, she pressed down on the accelerator, and the car shot forward, speeding away in a blur.
As the car disappeared from sight, Harold whipped back toward Magnus and roughly yanked his arm free from his grip, irritation written all over his face.
“Look what you did!”
He adjusted his collar roughly, then turned to stare out the window, quietly watching the faint glow of the taillights fade into the distance. Slowly, he turned back toward Magnus, his lips curling into a teasing smile as his eyes narrowed.
“Why didn’t you let me go to her?” he asked lightly. “Do you want her?” His gaze sharpened. “Don’t tell me it’s because you like her.”
The very next second, Magnus’s face twisted with annoyance. He reached across to Harold’s side and threw the door open. The door flew wide, and before Harold could react, Magnus’s foot struck him hard, knocking him straight out of the car.
Harold tumbled out of the car, landing hard on his backside with an undignified thud before rolling onto the road.
“I was just joking!” he wailed, scrambling upright, his voice echoing down the empty street. “Come on—Magnus! I was just joking!”
Magnus didn’t even spare him a glance. He reached out, caught the car door, and slammed it shut with a sharp snap.
“Drive,” he barked, leaning back into his seat.
“Magnus!” Harold shouted. “I’m telling Aunt Camila if you don’t let me back in right now!”
Magnus merely turned his head a fraction, fixing him with a flat, emotionless stare—more dismissive than any insult.
The next second, Timothy hit the accelerator. The car surged forward, tires humming as it pulled away, leaving Harold sitting in the middle of the road, mouth open in pure disbelief.
An hour later, when Magnus reached home, the lights in the house were already on. Soft shuffling sounds echoed inside as he entered.
Sophia walked down the stairs just as he stepped in. He looked at her, then lifted the bags in his hands slightly.
“Hungry?” he asked. “I bought dinner.” He placed the bags on the table.
She approached him and glanced into the bags. A smile spread across her face. “That’s great. I bought a good wine. Wait—I’ll bring it.”
She disappeared into the kitchen to grab the drink. Behind her, Magnus pulled out the containers one by one, setting them neatly on the table.
Just then, his phone rang.
Frowning, he pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Harold’s name flashed.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a brief second to summon what little patience he had left, then swiped to answer the call.
“Magnus, do you remember when I told you I’d seen that Chevrolet before?” Harold’s voice burst through the phone. He let out a sharp breath, barely pausing. “I couldn’t figure out why it felt so familiar—so unique. I knew it wasn’t just some ordinary Chevrolet.”
Magnus said nothing.
“That car belongs to Elias Creed,” Harold continued, the words tumbling over each other. “You know him, right? The Creeds own the largest aviation business in the world. Apex Airlines. We’ve done business with them before—remember when we bought the private jets from them?”
He began pacing, excitement mounting with every step.
“That red car?” He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “The moment it left the showroom, it stopped being just a car. It became priceless—simply because Elias Creed owns it.”
He slowed at last.
A brief pause followed. When Harold spoke again, his voice had dropped—measured, thoughtful, edged with wariness.
“So who exactly is that woman,” he said slowly, “that she gets to drive Elias Creed’s car?”
He shook his head, disbelief flickering across his face.
“That man doesn’t let anyone touch it. Not even at high-profile events. I’ve seen him shut down valets, brush off security—flat-out refuse. He’s obsessively protective of his things. Especially that car.”
His words began to tumble again, urgency creeping back in. “So if that girl is driving his car, something is definitely going on between them. Did we strike gold? Did we stumble onto some kind of secret?”
By the time he finished, Harold was nearly out of breath, his rambling finally catching up with him.
“I’m hanging up,” Magnus said calmly, cutting him off before he could rant any further.
He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket, his face hardening as Harold’s words echoed in his mind.
Just then, Sophia stepped out of the kitchen, a bottle of wine in one hand and a few plates in the other, and walked toward the dining table.
“I’m sure you’ll love it,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s one of the best wines in the world. It just arrived from Italy today.” She set the bottle down on the table.