I Truly Struck Gold

"Sir." Max Ginger, sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly spoke, his voice carrying an imperceptible chill and seriousness.

Tristan lifted his indifferent gaze towards the front. There was a red Lamborghini blocking the way, and a man leaned against the car window. A strand of hair on his forehead fluttered in the breeze, accentuating his stunning face. His amber eyes revealed a touch of depth, adding a hint of melancholy to his demeanor.

The man's face was filled with a charming smile. He raised his hand, mimicking a gun gesture, and placed it against his temple, making a shooting motion—an arrogant and provocative gesture.

Tristan sat expressionless in his seat, his deep gaze staring at the man, making it difficult for anyone to fathom his thoughts.

Cynthia looked at the man's face. It was a face almost on par with Tristan's. Compared to Tristan's rugged coldness, the blond man's face was softer, like an elf prince with a touch of melancholy and nobility.