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Chapter 23 My Idol And Inspiration
Maren’s expression beneath her mask changed sharply, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the man before
her.
She knew that face too well.
That man was Sawyer Warren.
Coming from one of the oldest and most enigmatic families in Beratia, he was the top arms dealer in the world
and the sole heir to the Warren family.
The Warren family had always been fierce adversaries of the Sovereign Underworld. During her reign, Maren
had disrupted their operations multiple times. The man confronting her was her greatest enemy.
But what business did Sawyer have in a place like Baimsa?
Was it possible that her true identity had been compromised? Was this an act of vengeance?
In the days of her domination over the Sovereign Underworld, Maren had only ever managed a stalemate with
Sawyer.
Now, the weight of the situation truly dawned on her.
Understanding the consequences if her disguise were penetrated, Maren realized the grave danger. There was no way Sawyer would allow her to leave simply. 7
Sawyer, who had failed to remove her mask, was undeterred and attacked once more.
This time, Maren hesitated in her response.
They knew each other’s fighting style down to the footwork. She was well aware that if the fight dragged on, she might expose her identity.
Sawyer, on the other hand, had no such concerns.
Maren’s eyes narrowed sharply after a flurry of exchanges.
Suddenly, her mask slipped and fell to the ground.
Now, her face was fully visible in the moonlight.
Sawyer stared at her intently. After a moment of silence, he apologized. “Sorry. I thought you were someone
else.”
Turning away, he disappeared into the night without looking back.
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Chapter 23 My Idol And Inspiration
Left alone, Maren took a deep, trembling breath.
Reaching up, she removed another layer of disguise a backup mask she had prepared just in case.
She had come prepared.
“Thank God.”
Maren tossed the mask aside. The night was late, so she headed home.
A group of armed men converged around Sawyer.
“Sorry, sir. After searching the track, we have found no trace of Miss Morgan,” a soldier said with a bow.
“Is it possible that Miss Morgan didn’t attend tonight?” inquired a man appearing to be a secretary.
Their intelligence had indicated that the Morgan family would be present at the race, prompting their journey to the South Hill. Yet, despite their extensive search, there was no sign of Maren.
Sawyer, who had remained quiet, finally said, “No rush.”
No rush?
This response left the secretary and the soldiers momentarily taken aback.
Sawyer had wasted significant resources to collect information globally: Upon hearing about Maren’s whereabouts, he had immediately flown from Beratia.
Given that he had yet to locate her, his calm assertion of no urgency was perplexing.
As confusion spread among his team, Sawyer turned to the direction Maren had left. His voice was calm and measured.
“I’ve already seen her. Maren, this time, you won’t slip away from my grasp. We have plenty of time ahead of us.”
The evening was unusual in every respect. Returning from the outskirts, Maren was unaware that Sawyer had already identified her; she just felt exhausted, probably from not engaging in serious physical activity for two years.
After grabbing a snack in the kitchen, she was about to head back to her room to rest.
At that moment, a group entered the living room, engaged in lively conversation.
“Today’s race was spectacular. It’s rare to see so many VIPS gathered. Such events happen once in a lifetime.”
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