The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 56

"Yes, though the university's official graduation gala won't be held until April."

"Well, if you need any assistance with anything in the meantime, just call me. I'll get back to you the moment I see it."

A fleeting emotion danced in Celia's eyes, though her smile remained perfectly pleasant. "Thank you. I appreciate it, Ken."

"Not at all. Have a good night, Ms. Stafford."

"You too."

Stepping out of the car, Celia bypassed the main floor and headed straight for her second-story bedroom.

Exhausted from the long day, her muscles ached. All she wanted was to crash.

After a quick, hot shower, she threw herself onto the plush mattress and immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She didn't wake up until noon the next day!

Alfred knocked gently on her bedroom door.

"Miss, there's a delivery for you to sign for."

Still half-asleep, Celia mumbled, "Coming," and dragged herself downstairs in her silk pajamas.

In the grand foyer, the owner of an exclusive, high-end florist was personally supervising the delivery of a monstrous, breathtaking arrangement of champagne roses, practically taking up the entire living room.

"Ms. Stafford, these are the custom florals ordered by Mr. Zucker. Please sign here."

Staring at the sea of luxurious roses, Celia couldn't help but let a slow, satisfied smirk curve her lips.

Was this the first time Alistair Zucker had ever sent flowers to a woman?

After signing for the delivery, her phone buzzed with a barrage of notifications.

It was the underground racing group chat.

[Breaking news! Anyone hear about this? We've got a rookie joining the circuit today!]

[A rookie? Don't you need at least three years of documented street racing experience to enter the Capital underground?]

[Exactly! No idea who he paid off, but he's on the roster!]

[Just a newbie. We're going to crush him!]

[Word is there's zero background info on this guy. I caught a glimpse of his entry photo—looks like a foreigner.]

[Photo.jpg]

"Right away."

Alistair's expression was carved from granite.

If this brilliant, psychotic mastermind was truly hiding in the Capital, he wouldn't hesitate to use extreme, off-the-books methods to protect the city.

--

Early the next morning, Celia selected a fire-engine red Ferrari from the Stafford garage and tore down the highway toward the southern outskirts of the Capital!

This underground race was anything but legal. It was a gritty melting pot of the city's worst and wealthiest, and most of the registration data was completely fabricated.

Out here, status meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was skill behind the wheel.

Fatalities were a known risk. Despite having zero sanctioning from the city, the massive prize pools made it a paradise for thrill-seeking drivers desperate to prove themselves.

By the time Celia pulled into the dirt lot, dozens of drivers were already prepping their vehicles.

The moment the jaw-dropping Ferrari rolled in, a crowd of racers instantly swarmed the car.

"Celia! You actually showed up!"

"Holy shit, it's been ages since you raced!"