The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 57

The limited-edition red Ferrari had barely been put in park before it was surrounded by eager racers.

Stepping out of the driver's seat, Celia looked effortlessly chic in a crisp white jacket and black leather pants that hugged her long, toned legs perfectly.

Pulling off her dark sunglasses, she leaned back against the glossy hood of her car, chatting smoothly with the racers crowding around her.

The drivers here came from all walks of life. Some were hardened gang members from the slums, while others were thrill-seeking heirs from the upper crust of society.

The prize money was astronomical, but the entry contract was brutally clear: whether you walked away with broken bones or in a body bag, the organizers held zero liability.

Celia had run this circuit a few times before. She found it delightfully entertaining.

"Celia, thank god you're here. We've all been dying to watch you tear up the track!"

One of the drivers who recognized her looked at her with pure hero worship.

Celia arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "I heard we have a rookie today?"

"Yeah, he's over there."

The racer jerked his chin toward a man standing a short distance away.

The man was remarkably tall but looked gaunt and sickly pale. He seemed to be in his early twenties, and from a distance, he looked fragile enough to be blown over by a strong gust of wind.

His clothes were remarkably plain, and the modified car sitting beside him was an obsolete model from several years ago.

As Celia studied him from afar, the man seemingly sensed her gaze. He turned around, his eyes locking dead onto hers.

Celia's brows knitted together as a strange, creeping unease settled in her chest.

It was a bizarre sensation. She was absolutely certain she had seen this man before.

"I checked his entry slip earlier. Wrote his name down as Charles. Word is he's mixed race."

Celia offered a polite, detached smile and nodded at him in greeting.

Completely unfazed by her sudden, guarded hostility, Charles smiled. "But looking at you now, it seems the rumors were entirely wrong."

Celia sized him up.

He was tall, emaciated, and his face was terrifyingly pale—like someone suffering from chronic malnutrition. But his eyes... his eyes were burning with a terrifying brilliance.

"Aren't you going to ask how I know so much about you?" Charles seemed genuinely disappointed that she wasn't panicking.

Celia arched a brow. "I'm a gorgeous woman. If you fell in love with me at first sight and used your little underground connections to stalk me, it wouldn't exactly be the first time it's happened."

"You are beautiful, and you have a very sharp tongue," Charles noted, his deep, lake-blue eyes staring at her like an abyss. "But I found you through a flower delivery address."

The teasing smirk vanished from Celia's face.

Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, her voice dropping an octave. "What is Alistair Zucker to you?"