His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 571

Preston was furious at Ramona's words.

"What's the matter? Can't handle losing?" he shot back.

"Aren't you the one who can't handle it?" Ramona retorted sharply. "If I hadn't given you a second chance, your shares would already be mine."

"You!" Preston's face flushed with anger.

Just then, Niamh placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Preston, don't let her get to you."

She then turned to Ramona. "I'll give you another chance, too. You like this car? Let's swap. You drive mine, I'll drive yours. We'll race again."

Her offer silenced the crowd, many of whom had been grumbling in support of Ramona. The man who had lent Niamh his car earlier walked over, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Kevin. Mind if I get to know you?"

"Sure, I'm Niamh," she said, shaking his hand.

"Hey, that's long enough. Don't go taking advantage of her," Preston grumbled, pulling Niamh's hand away.

Ramona glared at Niamh, her dissatisfaction growing. After a moment, she scoffed, got into her red Ford, and sped away from the street racing venue.

"Come on, Niamh, I'll treat you to a late-night bite," Preston said, his spirits lifting as he took her hand and led her toward a nearby pub.

Neither of them knew that their every move was being watched by a pair of hawk-like eyes.

Inside the imperial blue Bentley, the atmosphere was suffocating. Prescott felt like he could barely breathe. Jonathan had been watching ever since Niamh stepped up to race Ramona on Preston's behalf. He sat in the back, the window rolled down, his gaze fixed on the silver-gray Ferrari as it moved like an extension of Niamh's own body, fluid and masterful.

"I never knew Miss Rivers was such a skilled driver," Prescott ventured, trying to break the heavy silence.

From the back seat, Jonathan's face was lost in the shadows, the sharp lines of his features looking as if they'd been etched in ink. "Neither did I," he said, his voice low.

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