Chapter165 The Car Was Tampered With
Back in her room, Miranda washed up, didn't even dry her hair, and fell into a deep sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Meanwhile, in the garage, a figure moved in the pitch-black darkness.
This was a blind spot in the surveillance.
A figure in dark work clothes, hat brim pulled low, skulked toward Miranda's white car.
He held a sharp pair of tool pliers in his hand.
"Click..."
An extremely light crisp sound, amplified infinitely in the empty garage, then instantly dissipated.
The figure didn't leave immediately, but crawled under the car and fiddled with something for a while, as if confirming something.
After more than ten minutes, he crawled out from under the car, dusted himself off, looked around cautiously, and after confirming no one had seen him, quickly disappeared into the darkness.
In a luxury apartment in the city center.
Ariana wore a silk robe, holding a glass of red wine, standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows looking at the city's nightscape.
Her phone screen lit up on the side table.
It was an unsigned text message: "Everything done as you instructed. Tomorrow, if the car goes over sixty, the brakes will fail."
Ariana picked up her phone, looked at the message, and a smug smile curved her crimson lips.
Her eyes were full of madness and satisfaction.
She hadn't figured out how to deal with Miranda yet, but today she conveniently saw that Miranda was also participating in the new energy competition.
God had sent her the opportunity.
She would make Harrison understand that Miranda was nothing compared to her except for family background.
Only she was worthy of being his woman!
A peaceful night's sleep.
Outside the window, the sky showed a pale gray-blue color.
Miranda woke up, staring at the ceiling for a full minute before gradually coming back to herself.
She glanced at the time. Only after six. She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom.
Cold water splashing on her face made her more alert.
The woman in the mirror had determined eyes. Even though she'd barely slept these past few days, she'd adjusted her condition to optimal.
After a few bites of sandwich, Miranda went back upstairs to put on makeup and organize the practice notes needed for the competition.
Eight o'clock sharp.
She sent a message in the project group chat: "Has everyone left yet?"
Replies quickly flooded in like a screen refresh.
"Lisa: Already on the road, Miranda."
"Others: Just about to leave..."
Seeing everyone's replies, Miranda's lips curved into a faint smile. She grabbed her car keys and strode toward the garage.
The white sedan pulled out of the Lancaster estate and merged into the morning rush.
Miranda gripped the steering wheel, mentally reviewing today's presentation process.
The car wasn't going fast, driving smoothly on the elevated road toward downtown.
Ahead was a sharp curve with a sixty speed limit.
Miranda instinctively tapped the brakes lightly to slow down.
However, the next second, the blood in her body seemed to freeze instantly.
The brake pedal went down with no resistance, pressing straight to the floor.
The car's speed didn't decrease at all. Instead, due to the downhill momentum, it went faster and faster, heading straight for the guardrail.
Miranda's pupils contracted sharply, her heart leaping to her throat.
In extreme panic, she forced herself to stay calm, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, repeatedly pumping the brakes trying to wake up the braking system, while quickly pulling the electronic handbrake.
A piercing friction sound rang out on the highway.
The car shook violently, the tires creating a burning smell as they scraped the ground.
Fortunately, traffic wasn't too heavy on this stretch of road.
With a cool head, Miranda managed to reduce speed by scraping against the roadside greenery.
"Screech..."
The car finally stopped in the emergency lane, white smoke rising from the hood.
Miranda gasped for breath, her forehead covered in cold sweat, her palms slick with moisture.
She pushed the door open and got out, her legs somewhat weak.
Walking around to check the rear, she saw an obvious oil stain on the ground. Miranda frowned. The brake line had broken.
The competition started at ten, and it was already eight-thirty.
She pulled out her phone and sent a voice message in the group, keeping her voice as steady as possible: "My car broke down halfway. I'll be late. You all prepare first."
After sending the message, she stood by the roadside anxiously looking around.
This section wasn't good for hailing cabs, and the ride-sharing app showed it would take another twenty minutes for a car to arrive.
Just then, a taxi slowly emerged from behind some planters in the distance.
The driver wore a mask, only his eyes visible.
Through the window, he glanced at Miranda's smoking car, and the corner of his mouth beneath the mask curved into a sinister arc.
The taxi started and slowly pulled up in front of Miranda.
"Miss, car trouble? Where are you headed?" The driver's voice was hoarse, as if deliberately lowered.
Miranda was anxious and didn't think twice, directly opening the rear door and getting in.
"Convention and Exhibition Center, please hurry, I'm in a rush."
"Alright."
The driver responded, stepped on the gas, and the car shot forward.
Miranda sat in the back seat, lowering her head to call the traffic police.
"Hello, traffic police? I'm on the South Ring elevated road section. My car broke down in the emergency lane. The license plate number is..."
After hanging up, a strange smell filled the car.
Very fragrant.
Like cheap car air freshener, sickeningly sweet, yet mixed with an indescribable pungent smell, like alcohol or some chemical agent.
Miranda frowned and reached to lower the window.
"Excuse me, this smell is too strong. Please open a window."
"Sorry, miss, the window is broken. The regulator is stuck." The driver didn't turn his head, his voice muffled through the mask.
An odd feeling rose in Miranda's mind.
She looked up, her gaze accidentally meeting the rearview mirror.
In the mirror, the eyes exposed above the mask were staring at her.
The moment their eyes met, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the road.
But Miranda's heart skipped a beat.
Those eyes... seemed somehow familiar.
Where had she seen them before?
The car slowly stopped at a red light.
"Miss, have some water."
The driver took an unopened bottle of water from the passenger seat and turned to hand it over.
Miranda looked at the bottle and didn't take it, warily shrinking back. "No, thank you."
She lifted her wrist to check the time. Eight forty-five.
She should be able to arrive by nine-ten.
Just then, she looked up again and once more caught those eyes in the rearview mirror.
In that instant, memory fragments in her mind suddenly pieced together.
The photo!
When she'd asked her brother to investigate Ariana's background, the materials included a photo of her nominal father.
Although the photo was blurry, those eyes and the overall appearance were identical to now.
It was Zron!
This driver was Ariana's recently released father.