The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1746

"Why is she from the Quicksilver Club?"

"Hold on! Blake Quinnell… Wynter Quinnell… Could they be siblings?"

"The genes in that family are something else. If Wynter were a guy, I'd marry her in a heartbeat!"

"Am I the only one who thinks her name sounds familiar?"

The chatter in the audience was relentless.

Hearing this, Wynter turned to the crowd and cast a smile before striding confidently toward the racetrack.

Her simple yet poised gesture sent the spectators into a frenzy. Beautiful and bold—these words perfectly encapsulated Wynter's current presence.

Marcelo watched as Wynter approached before reminding her, "The race is about to start. Don't stress yourself out."

Wynter held her helmet in one hand and smiled faintly, saying nothing. After all, it wasn't her who needed to feel the pressure—it was someone else.

The online buzz had reached its peak. Countless users flocked to the Quinnell Group's official social media account, leaving comments to confirm Blake's identity. With Wynter already stepping in, the situation was no longer a mystery.

The media frenzy intensified even further. After all, the fact that a member of the Quinnell family had killed someone in a racing accident made it unlikely for things to end quietly.

But before any rumors could even take root, the Quinnell Group's legal department updated its official statement.

The post made it clear that Blake was being framed, and they reserved the right to pursue legal action indefinitely against those spreading false information.

Although evidence was yet to be presented, anyone familiar with the Quinnells' legal department knew they didn't make empty threats. Their track record was flawless—if they pursued a case, it was a guaranteed win.

Not to mention how Wynter ended up assisting authorities with a major interprovincial case after rumors of her manipulating the stock market circulated.

Hence, this time, anyone daring to spread baseless rumors had to seriously consider the consequences. They didn't want to be crushed like the last batch of influencers who tried. In fact, some of them had even vanished from the public eye.

Even so, a few who had never faced the Quinnells' legal department decided to test the waters.

To their shock, most responses were scathing criticisms accusing them of fabricating lies. Indeed, after several incidents like this, the public had become sharp-eyed and discerning.

"This constant slandering of the Quinnell family must be because they're too upright for someone's liking."

"It looks like they've stepped on someone's toes again."

"Apparently, it's related to the racing circle. A friend of mine in the car community mentioned that it ruins the betting pools if the same person keeps winning championships. Insider info: someone's targeting Blake."

"I've heard the same thing. These marketing accounts are probably backed by some rival group."

When foreign capital tried to topple the Quinnell family, their perseverance became a symbol of national pride.

Although times had changed, everything Wynter had been doing recently had not gone unnoticed by the public. Anyone thinking of bullying the Quinnell family now had better ask them—the people online—if they'd allow it first!

The marketing accounts from the racing circle never anticipated this outcome. After all, most of them were backed by foreign capital and were clueless about the Quinnell family's nationwide influence.

They thought they could smear the Quinnell family using the same tactics employed when Blake's incident first broke. Yet, they quickly realized that strategy simply wouldn't work here.

While some of the audience on-site recognized Wynter, the judges and club managers did not. This wasn't surprising. After all, people in different industries rarely overlapped.

Besides, it had already been noted that among all the participating teams, only Blake's club was entirely Cascadians. Most of the other teams had foreign investments. After all, they held long-standing beliefs that the best racers were inevitably foreigners.

As for the car Wynter brought today—it had undeniably stunned everyone.

The organizing committee had already sent someone to contact Horas. They needed to confirm something. If this vehicle had indeed been purchased, it should be reclaimed immediately. In their opinion, a Batmobile should never be in a Cascadian's possession.

Meanwhile, Wynter maintained her casual demeanor, as though the commotion had nothing to do with her.

Her gaze remained fixed on her phone as she calculated the timing. That person cared far too much about the Quinnell family's fortune and the Chamber of Commerce's ownership.

Wynter speculated that he would likely make an appearance during the chamber's anniversary event. After all, Eric wouldn't have randomly interfered with the chamber's heritage site unless it served a deeper purpose.

Hence, she wanted to win this race as quickly as possible so she could move forward without any distractions. Only when she arrived at the chamber's event would the evidence concerning Blake's case be released.

This was all part of Wynter's carefully laid-out plan. Therefore, she desperately wanted the race to begin as soon as possible.

Unlike Wynter's calm demeanor, Buck was so consumed with jealousy that he was practically driven mad by it. He refused to believe that a woman could have better racing skills than him, let alone beat him in a race.

This should have been his moment to shine, but not a single camera was pointed at him. He knew it was because of her car.

Clenching his fists tightly, he initially thought about calling Lenny but quickly stopped himself. He knew there was no need to inform him about everything.

There was no way he could lose to a woman. It was just a minor mishap. So what if she had a top-tier car? Everything came down to skill on the track. Moreover, he still had a trump card up his sleeve.

With that thought in mind, he raised his gaze and turned toward Bart, who still had the item Lenny had given them that was apparently from the medium.

However, unlike Ross, who carried everything on himself, Bart had chosen to use it strategically.

He had someone inspect the item and learned that it was a death talisman. Whatever car it was placed in would inevitably encounter an accident. Too bad it would also ruin that one-of-a-kind race car.

Bart hadn't planned to act again, but he had no choice given the current circumstances. He had already crossed so many lines. His only path forward was to ensure his former team fell completely apart so he could start fresh.

Fortunately, no one would suspect him even if he was close to the car. After all, Dennis was the tire and brake inspector. Him lending a hand while they were short-staffed seemed perfectly natural.

But just as he finished placing the Spirit Token in the car, a cold voice came from behind him. "I heard my brother paid for your family's troubles."

It was Wynter. Her eyes had a way of piercing straight into a person's soul.

Bart's hand froze mid-air. He'd never interacted with Wynter before, but now, his palms were clammy. He reminded himself to stay calm. After all, it was just a "casual" conversation.

Forcing a sheepish smile, Bart wiped his dirty face and replied, "Yeah, Blake has helped me a lot. I've been thinking about how to repay him every day. It would be great if I could help him out."

"My brother hasn't done anything wrong. There's no need to 'help him out,'" Wynter said, smiling as she stepped closer. "You can keep the money."

To repay kindness with betrayal was a crime that would bring suffering both in life and after death.

Of course, Wynter didn't spell this out explicitly. She merely glanced at a nearby surveillance camera, her gaze unreadable.

After their exchange, despite his back drenched in sweat, Bart's expression turned dark and malicious.

He believed that Wynter was just as difficult to deal with as Blake. But she'd only have another ten minutes to be arrogant.

Once the race began, it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for her car to burst into flames. If she were lucky, she'd only suffer severe burns. If not, she'd end up like Ross—dead on the spot.

With that thought, Bart grinned and sent a message to Buck. After turning off his phone, Buck put his helmet on, his eyes burned with determination.

Naturally, no one thought to inform Lenny of what had just transpired.

The race was about to begin.

"How is there a racer even faster than Blake?"

While the audience at the scene was still reeling from the shock of Wynter's breathtaking performance, the organizers finally managed to get through to Horas, who was on the other side of the continent.

At first, Horas' voice was cold and distant as usual. But the moment they mentioned the Batmobile, his tone shifted. When they added that the car was being driven by a young Cascadian woman, the once-composed Horas became utterly ecstatic.

"It's her! It must be her! She's finally back! Which race is this? Is it being streamed live?"

The organizers had originally called to find a reason to confiscate the car. Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine it would turn into something like this.

On the racetrack, Buck's eyes turned red the moment he saw the Batmobile roar ahead at the starting line.

He hadn't taken it seriously initially. However, after flooring the accelerator for a solid minute and still failing to close the gap, his expression started to change drastically.

"Impossible! There's no way anyone could be faster than Blake!"

But no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't even glimpse the car ahead. As a professional racer, he understood the implications. This meant that Wynter was so far ahead—so much faster than him—that her car was completely out of his visual range.

If Wynter's initial appearance with the Batmobile had sparked heated discussions, her performance now ignited an explosion of applause across the board.

Phones at major racing clubs were ringing off the hook. Calls in every language conveyed the same urgent message.

"Recruit her! No matter the cost, make sure she stays with us!"

What was supposed to be a regional final had unexpectedly reached global heights.

Skeptics questioned whether the hype was overblown, reminding everyone that the final victory would be decided on the treacherous mountain stretch. But when faced with such absolute speed, those words barely made a ripple.

Adding fuel to the fire was the Horas' exclamation. "It's her! My muse! It really is her!"

His official statement sent shockwaves. His status in the industry needed no introduction.

Many had always assumed the inspiration behind the Batmobile had come from foreign countries. It couldn't possibly be a Cascadian, let alone a woman!

But there it was—the blazing red Batmobile on-screen, leaving everyone's face frozen in shock. They could only stare at their screens in stunned silence.

Meanwhile, club managers were wrecking their brains off with strategies on how to recruit her the moment the race ended.

Marcelo's jaw dropped wide open. He genuinely hadn't expected such a race. Even with Blake, it would be impossible to outpace all the racers by this much.

This didn't look like a competition anymore—it felt more like a solo exhibition. The gap between her and the other racers was just too enormous.

Racing, by its nature, was about back-and-forth overtakes, leaving spectators guessing who might seize the lead at any moment. But there was no such suspense as he watched Wynter drive her Batmobile.

She wasn't just fast. Her driving carried an unmistakable air of seasoned expertise. Her timing on sharp turns—perfectly balancing speed and stability—looked effortless.

To the untrained eye, it was just top-tier racing. But those with a racing background could tell her driving skills were honed in life-and-death situations.

Bart clenched his fists tightly as he watched the scene. He continuously reminded himself that the Spirit Token would claim her life once she hit the mountain stretch.

And indeed, the trouble started as Wynter entered the mountain road.

Dark clouds suddenly gathered over the peak accompanied by fierce lightning and thunder. The sudden shift in weather was so intense that several overhead drones malfunctioned.

Marcelo's chest tightened as he watched the ominous scene unfold. He immediately grabbed his microphone, intending to stop Wynter.