Chapter 56

Closing the scattered drafts, Austin rose from his chair and gestured toward the hallway. "Come on, time to call it a night. You've got a speech in the morning, and if you stay up, you'll be dragging those dark circles around with you."

"I be fine." Brinley rose with a languid stretch, arms lifting above her head, her spine arching in an almost graceful display. "A face mask will fix everything. I'll look flawless by morning."

Austin studied her, his mouth curving in a faintly amused smile as though he wanted to tease her but held back.

Without thinking, his hand lifted. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertip brushing the delicate curve of her lobe. The brief contact froze them both in place.

Color rushed across Brinley's cheeks. She stepped back abruptly, her voice a touch too brisk. "I'm going to my room."

Austin let his hand fall away, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur."Alright.Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Brinley echoed, hurrying toward the door as though fleeing a shadow pressing too close.

After switching off the study lamp, Austin stepped into the hall, his stride unhurried.

The soft glow of the nightlight traced the angles of his tall frame as he made his way down the hallway.

When he neared Brinley's door, he slowed, pausing in the hush of the hallway.

Only after her light clicked off, assuring him she had gone to bed, did his shoulders ease. With that small reassurance, he finally turned toward his own room.

Austin lay awake, staring at the shadows on his ceiling, sleep nowhere in sight.

Brinley's effort to mask her nerves replayed in his mind like a stubborn film reel. Reaching for his phone, he typed a quick message to Miguel. "Arrange top-tier security for tomorrow's venue, and have a fresh bouquet of sunflowers ready."

Miguel's confirmation came almost instantly. "Understood."

Setting the phone aside, Austin let his gaze drift upward, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

The next day, the atmosphere at the venue was suffocating with tension.

Brinley stood offstage, her posture rigid as Colin presented his proposal. Her face betrayed nothing, a blank mask against the charged air.

Colin appeared in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie knotted with meticulous precision.

The softness that once lingered in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a blade-like sharpness, every word he delivered carrying a crisp, commanding edge.

As he outlined his vision for the mall'sfuture, the judges leaned forward, nodding in steady rhythm to his argument.

"Our concept integrates racing with gaming, a dual theme designed to draw in massive crowds." Colin's gaze swept deliberately across the panel before locking on Brinley, a glint of unwavering resolve in his eyes."Business thrives on profit, not on sentiment."

The remark struck Brinley like a sudden knife to the chest. She instantly understood the hidden target of his words.

Her proposal still carried the raw, unpolished passion she had always held for racing.

"Brinley, it's our turn," Corbin urged, his voice taut with nerves, the papers in his grip wrinkling under the pressure of his restless fingers.

Brinley steadied herself with a long breath, her heels striking the floor in crisp, measured beats that cut through the silence of the hall.

At the podium, she planted her feet firmly, lifting her chin to meet Colin's eyes as he lowered himself back into his seat. His gaze didn't burn with mockery this time-it was sharp, unyielding, a wordless vow that seemed to say,"This round, you won't defeat me."

Meanwhile, Austin sat quietly behind the row of judges, his long fingers tapping a steady rhythm against his knee.

From where he watched, he caught the flicker of unease in Brinley's eyes, the subtle tightening of her fists as she tried to mask her nerves.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Brinley Moore, representing VantagePath Realty."

She didn't dive straight into her proposal. Instead, the lights dimmed as a video began to play.

Sheets of rain pounded a racetrack while a scarlet race car skidded out on a slick curve. Just as it seemed destined to smash into the barrier, the car slammed into a cushioned buffer zone and bounced back intact.The racer climbed out, shaken but unharmed.

"The foundation of my design is speed built on safety," Brinley declared, her voice carrying crisply through the mic. "Standard safety zones measure eight meters. I've expanded mine to ten, and the crash-absorbing material surpasses international strength requirements."

The video shifted to racetrack schematics. Brinley lifted her hand, gesturing toward the screen. "This particular curve was tested seven times before we finalized its incline at precisely 14.5 degrees. This setup gave professional racers the rush of raw speed while still allowing casual players to enjoy the track without fear."

From the panel of judges, Grayson leaned forward, admiration gleaming in his eyes.touch steeper and the track is treacherous; a touch flatter and the thrill vanishes."

"Right." Brinley's voice carried a subtle note of pride."Our team spent three months at the test grounds,trying out a dozen different surface materials before locking in the one that gripped perfectly at this incline."

For the next forty minutes, she laid open the blueprint like a jeweler displaying a rare gem.

From the concealed drainage grids beneath the track to the custom-built seating designed for spectators,she presented every element with steady confidence and precision. Down in the audience, Colin sat rigid, his nails biting into his palms.

He had to concede that Brinley's presentation carried real weight. Her vision stretched beyond blueprints and concrete; she grasped the spirit of racing itself.

Had she cultivated this insight recently through relentless study, or had it been a hidden strength quietly waiting for the right moment to surface?

When the floor opened for judges' questions, the tension in the room rose immediately.

"Mrs. Moore, your proposal is solid and professional, but the budget is fifteen percent higher than Palmer Group's. For a government project, cost control is critical." One judge pressed, his tone sharp.

Before Brinley could get a word in, Colin lifted his hand with deliberate calm. "Paying fifteen percent more just to gain a twenty percent bump in safety isn't worth it. My plan meets eighty percent of the safety standard and still keeps spending under control." He let the silence stretch a beat, his gaze locking on Brinley, then added coolly,hasing perfection can turn into a liability when it strays too far from practicality."