Jay felt utterly powerless as he was shoved into the passenger seat. When he looked up, he locked eyes with Emerson, who was sitting behind the wheel, his face pale as a ghost.


    "Emerson, man, are you alright? Did they do anything to you?" Jay asked anxiously.


    Emerson gripped the steering wheel tightly, looking at Jay with regret. "Bro, I''m so sorry. This is all on me."


    Jay''s eyes welled up with emotion, and just as he was about to speak, he heard the car doors lock with a loud click. He frantically pushed against the door, but it was firmly shut, impossible to open.


    "Bro, it''s no use. This car''s been specially modified with Al tech. Without the owner''smand, these locks won''t budge," Emerson said with a wry smile.


    "What the hell do they want from us?" Jay''s voice was tight, his teeth clenched in frustration.


    Emerson''s eyes shifted to the road ahead, a mix of despair and numbness in his voice, "They want us to experience what it feels like to race against death." Jay''s eyes widened in horror.


    The car had already started on its own, speeding towards the coastal highway at a breakneck pace.


    Emerson could control the steering, but the brakes under his feet werepletely unresponsive.


    The coastal highway was notorious for its treacherous curves. Without expert driving skills, it was all too easy to smash through the guardrails and plummet off a cliff or crash into the ocean.


    And with the car''s brakes out ofmission, it truly was a race against death.


    As they rounded the first curve without slowing down, Jay felt his heart nearly stop at the close brush with disaster.


    He had never felt so close to death.


    The two brothers were as pale as sheets.


    And there were nine more curves ahead.


    Meanwhile, Grady leaned casually against his car door, engrossed in a video on


    his phone that he had watched countless times.


    It was footage of the car ident involving Leo and Mirabe.


    He had someone edit the surveince tape for him.


    "Is this really the little master''s driving?" Grady mumbled skeptically, "I seem to remember his driving skills weren''t exactly ster."


    The assistant, who had heard this doubt repeated multiple times, cleared his throat and said, "It''s just the little master and the young miss in the car. If it''s not him driving, who else could it be? The young miss?"


    The young miss had only just turned eighteen, and without a driver''s license, how could she be driving?


    Grady reyed the video on his phone, "Don''t you think the way they handled the brakes and avoided collision has a bit of a professional racer vibe?"


    "Why don''t you ask the little master yourself?" suggested the assistant.


    Grady had no other hobbies but racing, and after watching the crash footage, he noticed something peculiar-something only a professional would detect.


    "Never mind," Grady shook his head, then pocketed his phone and checked his watch before asking, "How manyps?"


    "Huh?" The assistant was momentarily confused.


    "I mean, how manyps has the car done?" rified Grady.


    "Just one," the assistant finally understood. The housekeeper was inquiring about


    how many near-deathps Emerson and his brother hadpleted.


    "Oh, then have someone monitor them for another... twentyps," Grady said nonchntly as he straightened up and opened the car door behind him.


    The assistant touched his nose, remarking, "You know, tossing them into the sea for the fish would be much simpler, boss. Why all thisplexity?"


    That''s how they used to handle things.


    Grady nced at him, "I''ve told you, we''re living in civilized times now. We need to handle things in a civilized manner."


    The assistant''s lips twitched involuntarily, thinking to himself, isn''t this even more cruel than a straightforward kill?