Days passed. Everything looked calm on the surface.ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    Beneath the surface, however, something was brewing.


    On the fourth day, a ck car pulled up to the police station entrance, Jason emerged, his face etched with a dark scowl. He took a deep breath before entering the building.


    An officer stood guard outside a visitation room where Nichs and Jason met.


    "Mr. Novak-Jason began, but Nichs cut him off.


    "You don''t have to say anything, Mr. Derullere. I understand. I''ve told the police repeatedly that I acted alone. No one else is involved. Regardless of the sentence, I won''t appeal."


    Jason clenched his jaw. As he hesitated, Nichs continued, his voice weak, "That being said, before everything is finalized, I''d like to see Mr. Schmidt onest time. There are things I need to ask him in person."


    "Mr. Novak, Mr. Schmidt is an important figure. He won''t be meeting with you again," Jason said in a low voice. The mere mention of Jameson''s name sent shivers down his spine.


    Nichs pressed his lips together, his fingers curling into fists.


    "I''m here today with a message from Mr. Schmidt himself." Jason closed the distance between himself and Nichs, and his tone was measured. Mr. Schmidt is aware of your numerous crimes, and he believes that you will never get to see the light again.


    "In light of this, you may go in peace. He will see to the necessary arrangements for your funeral. As for your wife..."


    He left the sentence unfinished. Nichs''s heart plummeted.


    Jason continued, "If you ept full responsibility for your crimes and face the consequences, Mr. Schmidt will ensure your wife''s well-being. Otherwise, he cannot guarantee her safety from unforeseen circumstances."


    With that, Jason rose to his feet. He offered Nichs a curt nod before exiting the visitation room.


    Nichs was left alone, his body rigid, eyes burning red. A suffocating rage threatened to consume him as his faith crumbled around him.


    Jason exited the police station, his expression grim. As he approached his car, his phone pinged with a message.


    The message read, "Mr. Derullere, Mr. Beckett is aware of your predicament and understands your helplessness. Could he perhaps meet you in private?"


    Those words were without emotion. Yet they made this 50-year-old man well up with tears.


    A momentter, he received a message containing a geolocation. It was somewhere near the station.


    Jason felt his heart pounding. Keeping hisposure, he instructed the driver, who Carl had sent, "You can head back. Mr. Novak is an acquaintance, and seeing him like this makes me feel helpless. I need to clear my head, so I''m taking a walk.


    The driver, who was tasked with monitoring Jason, simply replied, "Alright. Take care, then."


    The driver took a pensive nce at Jason before driving off.


    Ten minutester, Jason arrived at the designated location.


    Just then, an inconspicuous ck MPV pulled up slowly and stopped right before him.


    Xavier emerged from the vehicle, the back door opening silently.


    Jason couldn''t see Jasper. Only his gray suit pants, ck leather shoes, and a posture that exuded nobility and reverence were visible.


    "Mr. Derullere, Mr. Beckett has always wanted to meet with you. Please get in." Xavier smiled and politely extended the invite.


    Jason held his breath, a lump forming in his throat.


    After Victor''s passing, he was forced to serve Jameson.


    He had yet to experience courtesy since that day.