It had been almost 24 hours since Jameson was detained in the police station's interrogation room.

When he was at Kontina, countless people curried favor with him, sang praises about him, and sought favors from him. The amount of people who kissed up to him was outrageous. When he returned to his country, he ruled The Millennium at night. Currently, he was in complete control of Schmidt Group. He was an unparalleled leader whom many looked up to. He was surrounded by endless power, money, and pride. These placed him high up on a pedestal. It had been a long time since he was last put in captivity and treated disrespectfully like this. Every passing second and minute felt like ages. It was excruciating.

More than that, it was humiliating.

"We're almost at the 24-hour mark. When will I be able to leave?" Jameson sat on the cold and uncomfortable chair in the interrogation room with his legs crossed. There was a chilling harshness behind his gold-framed glasses.

"What's with the rush, Mr. Schmidt? We have lots of time."

Cyrus sat across from him casually. His upright bearing was not intimidated by the person opposite him at all. This was perhaps an example of the saying that evil was powerless if the good was unafraid. "Plus, there are 15 more minutes before the 24 hours is up.

"How could I let the distinguished Mr. Schmidt walk out from here before the final second? I put in so much effort to get you to come in here."

Heaven knew how panicked Cyrus felt at this moment. His heart was pounding.

drugs, he would have to release him and shoulder massive responsibility for this. Not only that but capturing him next time might

get it now, Cyrus. You're just wanting to

across his pale face. He glanced at his watch with a piercingly cold gaze. "Let's

tightened. Word by word, he uttered, "Jameson,

here for

deep rage burned within his eyes. He crushed the paper cup on the table. "I've got to say, though, the coffee at your station tastes

Cyrus' eyes turned red as he shot to

Are you trying to beat me

the back of his hand

15 minutes to have a think about how

closed

If he wasn't in his police uniform,

Time continued ticking away.

five

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