Filed To Story: Watch Out! She's a Mastermind Heiress (Isabella Patton) Book PDF Free
Zahir’s eyes flew open as he jolted awake in bed. Sweat trickled down his forehead as his gaze locked on Andrew. It was him…
When Andrew saw Zahir’s stare, his face lit up. “Did you remember?” he asked eagerly.
Zahir’s voice faltered with confusion.
Isabella interjected, “He hasn’t remembered everything—just a few key things.”
Zahir rubbed his temples. “I lost my memory when I fell off a cliff saving you.”
“Exactly. And the ones who hurt you got what they deserved,” Andrew said, a cold glint in his eyes before concern softened his expression.
“What else do you remember?”
“Nothing else…” Zahir’s voice trailed off, his face filled with confusion.
Disappointment flickered in Andrew’s eyes.
“Zahir’s memory has been gone for years,” Isabella said. “He can’t recover everything at once. But he loves racing. I think we should head to the international competition. It might jog more of his memories.”
Andrew nodded slowly, though concern clouded his face. “He hasn’t raced in years. What if he’s not ready?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Isabella replied.
As soon as the three of them stepped out of the room, Waylon noticed the confusion on Zahir’s face had eased, leaving him calmer than before. Surprised, Waylon muttered, “No way… did he really get his memory back?”
“Let’s get to the airport. We’ll figure it out at the track,” Isabella said.
No one responded to Waylon’s question, so he kept glancing at Zahir, trying to tell if his memories had returned.
It was impossible to say for sure—sometimes Zahir seemed fine, other times lost.
Watching both Isabella and Andrew stay so calm, Waylon felt silly and settled into silence.
Two hours later, they arrived in Aswil.
Aswil was a small island nation, surrounded by endless blue waters. Though beautiful, with charming villages dotting its suburbs, the country was plagued by turmoil.
Political strife had left the people struggling, especially in the suburbs, where riots broke out regularly.
Isabella gazed out the window at the chaos below. No matter how fiercely the politicians clashed, the residents remained innocent…
The plane touched down in the heart of the city.
Towering skyscrapers, endless streams of traffic, and dazzling city lights painted a picture that stood in sharp contrast to the struggling suburbs—heaven and hell side by side.
After settling into a five-star hotel, they headed straight to the track nearby.
Their cars were already waiting for them.
With the captain absent, Zahir naturally took his car.
Staring at the sleek sports car, Zahir felt memories stirring, as if they were just within reach. Drawn by the sensation, he stepped forward and ran his hand over the car. It felt familiar.
“Why not take it for a spin?” Isabella suggested.
Zahir slid into the driver’s seat, instantly feeling as though he and the car were one.
Waylon leaned toward Isabella and whispered, “Zahir was unbeatable back in the day, with multiple championships. But it’s been years. Are you sure he should drive?”
“Why don’t you have a friendly race with him?” Isabella said with a smile.
“Sure, but isn’t that kind of unfair?” Waylon asked, scratching his head.
“It’s just a friendly race to help Zahir get back into the groove,” Isabella assured.
Waylon gave a quick nod of approval, and Zahir followed suit.
They headed to a private racetrack and started the race. On the sidelines, Isabella, Andrew, and another team member kept a close watch.
A wave of tension hung over the group.
This race wasn’t just about Zahir recovering his memory—it was their chance to make it to the international competition. They could handle losing, but giving up before even starting? That was unacceptable.
Andrew’s gaze remained fixed on Zahir’s car, unblinking.
When the race started, Waylon’s car shot forward, leaving Zahir trailing sluggishly behind. Within minutes, Waylon had covered half the track, and Zahir’s car was still within sight.
The team member sighed. “Zahir hasn’t raced in years—there’s no way he’d get back into the groove this quickly.”
Anxiety crept in—what if they couldn’t compete tomorrow?
The words were barely out of his mouth when Zahir’s car disappeared from view in an instant. Shock rippled through everyone, quickly replaced by a burst of excitement.
Behind the wheel, Zahir watched the scenery blur past. The speed filled him with life—vibrant and exhilarating—like a splash of color after endless gray days.
Zahir stomped on the accelerator, the car roaring forward until he spotted Waylon in the distance.
Unaware of Zahir’s approach, Waylon drove at a steady pace, not pushing too hard.
With a sigh, he thought his sister had overestimated Zahir—racing someone this out of practice seemed pointless.
Whoosh! A streak of red flashed by in an instant.
Waylon blinked in disbelief. By the time he gathered his thoughts, Zahir had already crossed the finish line. He rubbed his eyes, convinced he was seeing things.
“What the hell!” he shouted. “He was holding back!” He slammed the accelerator, racing toward the finish line. The team crowded around Zahir, buzzing with excitement.
“Seems like Zahir hasn’t lost his edge after all these years,” their team member said.
Andrew gave Zahir an admiring glance, and Zahir extended his hand for a firm handshake.
“You’ve still got it,” Isabella said, clearly impressed. “The international competition’s tomorrow, but our captain had to stay back at the hospital with his mom. We’re down a racer.”
“Alright, I’ll race with you,” Zahir agreed. “Let’s give it our best.” Their team was complete once again.
Waylon thrust out his hand. “Let’s race for our pride—and for the team.”
They all piled their hands together, clapping down, fire gleaming in their eyes.
They went over their strategies before heading out to practice. Zahir adjusted swiftly, though his skills were still slightly inferior to Andrew’s. Without the long gap in racing, Zahir would have likely been Andrew’s equal.
This time, victory felt like a sure thing.
After wrapping up, they all headed back to the hotel to rest. The following day marked the official start of the international racing competition.
They met for lunch in the grand hall around noon.
Zahir skipped the meal, opting for more practice instead. The hall buzzed with a symphony of languages as top riders from all corners of the world gathered.
The moment Wesley and Jada entered, all eyes in the hall shifted toward them.
The hall hummed with curiosity—everyone had already heard the rumor that Rosemarie was making her comeback in this competition.
In the world of racing, she wasn’t just a competitor; she was a living legend.
She had crushed the international competition in the past, only to miss the final race and end up with second place by default. Those lucky enough to witness Rosemarie in action couldn’t help but marvel at her skill.
Plenty of racers dreamed of going head-to-head with her, but she had stayed under the radar, vanishing after that fateful race.
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