The Illegitimate Flame: Bride of Ashes
Chapter 72- Your secrets

Chapter 72: Chapter 72- Your secrets

When they left the racetrack, the night had already swallowed the sky in darkness.

Manfred casually slung his silver vest over his shoulder, his damp, tousled hair clinging to his cheeks from the sweat. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled halfway up, revealing skin marred with reddish bruises. Faint traces of blood were still dripping down from his palms, painting a striking contrast against his pale hands.

The thrill of the race had already faded, filtered out in the rush of adrenaline. Now, standing alone under the vast sky, he felt like he was floating in the clouds—emptied, spent. The satisfaction was fleeting. What remained was an overwhelming sense of loneliness and silence.

He leaned against the hood of the car, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag before dialing August’s number.

They had set each other as speed dial number 1—a silent pact, an unspoken truth. That number meant "the most important person."

"You raced again!" August’s voice came through, low but laced with anger as he laid eyes on the scrapes and bruises scattered across Manfred’s body.

Back in the States—before ZT Group, before the suits and boardrooms—Manfred had done everything reckless just to survive. Underground racing wasn’t a game. It was a gamble. For money, for pride, for life.

But he never let August touch any of that darkness. No fights. No races. Not even cigarettes. Manfred took all the dirt, all the danger, so August wouldn’t have to.

Those six years in the States were hell at first. The first year nearly broke him. But the following five? They were salvation—because heaven had sent him an angel.

And to August, Manfred was that angel.

That’s why he always listened to him. Every word. Every warning. August had made a promise—on the day Manfred pulled him from the abyss—that he’d walk this path of vengeance with him. Whatever it took. Even if it cost his life.

They hated the same kind of people. Especially women—the cunning, deceitful, manipulative kind. To them, all those seductresses were just shallow, attention-hungry females.

"I got the itch," Manfred said flatly. "Did a few laps."

August hated when Manfred indulged in such dangerous games. But Manfred lived for it—the speed, the wind slicing past his ears, time slipping through his fingers like sand. It felt like chasing the edge of death. That moment when the world went silent, and everything else disappeared... That feeling was addictive.

Perhaps that’s what dying felt like—desperately trying to hold on, only to realize there’s nothing to grip.

August said nothing more. He quietly retrieved a few band-aids from the trunk and began patching up the wounds on Manfred’s arm. It was a habit they’d formed back in the States. One got hurt, the other would do the tending. It was their unspoken law. Unchanging. Eternal.

"...Janet. Do you think she knows something?" August leaned back, his eyes turning to Manfred, who sat quietly with his eyes closed, lost in thought.

August had always been a man with a calculating mind, someone who saw through the cracks others tried to hide. He could tell—Janet had changed. Her attitude toward him had shifted, softened in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Even Charles had noticed.

"I told her," Manfred said suddenly, his eyes snapping open to meet August’s stunned, pitch-black gaze.

There was no hesitation in his voice, no guilt. He didn’t even fully understand why he had done it. Maybe it was the sea breeze that night. Or maybe it was simply Janet. Whatever it was, he had let it all out—every dark, buried truth they’d spent years hiding.

"You told her what?" August’s voice trembled slightly, not with fear of Janet, but with the terror of something far worse—exposure. The very memories he had fought to suppress, the kind that twisted in the shadows of his mind, were now known by the only woman he didn’t instinctively push away.

How would she see him now?

August had seen it in her eyes—that unmistakable look of pity.

"I told her everything," Manfred replied calmly, as if he were speaking of the weather. "Your secrets. Mine. All of it."

August’s pupils dilated. His chest heaved. In a blink, he grabbed Manfred by the collar, yanking him forward as a guttural growl left his throat. "How could you tell her?!"

Manfred didn’t flinch. He simply reached up and patted August’s arm, his voice steady, almost soothing. "August... don’t you see? Telling her helps us. She won’t guard herself against you anymore."

August froze. He hadn’t seen Manfred this composed in a long time. It made his fury feel all the more useless.

Manfred chuckled softly, watching the flare of emotion in August’s eyes. That was more like it. For too long, August had worn a mask of indifference. But now? Now he looked alive. Men with fire in their veins—that’s what Manfred respected. And this, this was the real August.

"I don’t want her pity!" August roared, his voice hoarse.

"She doesn’t pity you," Manfred replied sharply. "She aches for you. There’s a difference. And don’t forget, August... Wasn’t she the one you wanted from the start?"

Manfred leaned in, whispering each word like a knife cutting through fog.

"To take Janet... that’s the blow that’ll destroy Charles."

August fell silent, lips pressed tightly together. But the flicker of hesitation in his eyes said it all.

He remembered now. The plan. The reason they had returned. The pain they would inflict on that father and son.

But even as he stared at the ground, Manfred’s mind drifted.

He had always been the rational one—the planner, the cold executor. But with Janet...

That fire of vengeance inside him was being eaten away, slowly but surely, by something he had long sworn off.

Possessiveness. Desire. Something dangerously close to love.

Was he... falling again? Into that damned thing called love?

Maybe, when it came to business warfare, the two of them combined couldn’t take down Charles. But now that he had exposed his weakness, they finally had a chance. And Janet—she was his fatal flaw.

August released his grip, sinking back into the chair with a heavy sigh. Even Manfred hadn’t truly gotten close to Janet. Could he really use her kindness against her? Could he drive a wedge between her and Charles?

In the end, hatred outweighed affection. Even if not for himself, the blood debt of a slain father could not go unanswered.

"Manfred, Director Louis is here!" Manfred’s secretary announced as a refreshed Harold strode into the office.

ZT Group had just funneled five hundred million dollars to bail out Louis Corporation from its crisis. Harold’s gratitude ran deep—he had expected that if Elvira failed to capture Manfred’s attention, no help would come. But at the last moment, Manfred had stepped in.

"This rescue... Louis owes you everything," Harold said with a flattering smile, extending his hand toward Manfred.

Manfred only gave a brief, almost mechanical shake in return.

Charles had pushed Harold to the brink this time. Honestly, Manfred had his doubts about Harold’s loyalty. But he understood that all this chaos was courtesy of Janet—who had handed him the perfect opportunity.

After all, Harold was Janet’s father. Now that Harold was under his wing, and with Charles standing by idly, the hot potato was now in Manfred’s hands.

"Save the pleasantries. I didn’t help you for free." Manfred gestured to the swivel chair opposite him and invited Harold to sit.

As they arranged the funding, an unspoken agreement was sealed: once Louis Corporation stabilized, ten percent of its profits would flow back to ZT Group.

In other words, Manfred was now the shadow shareholder behind Louis Corporation.