Can’t Win Me Back

Carl was petrified.
He immediately placed a call to cancel the meeting before helping Jameson back to his office and onto his couch.
Jameson gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
The pain felt like his insides were burning.
His hands trembled as he pressed them to his burning forehead.
His vision swam in and out of darkness.
"Here, drink some water, Mr. Schmidt!" Carl knelt beside him, his eyes red with worry.
He held the glass to Jameson's lips, which were stained with blood.
"I've called your private doctor.
He's on his way as fast as he can.
Just hang in there..." Jameson raised a hand and slapped the glass away.
In a gruff voice, he rasped, "All these years...
Nicholas has done a lot of dirty work for me.
He has always been meticulous, handling everything cleanly.
How could he leave evidence, let alone a video?" "Anyone who plays with fire gets burned eventually," Carl said through gritted
teeth.
"Even Chief Novak, with all his skills, isn't infallible.
Since he's in police custody, we can't let him live.
I'll get rid of him, no matter what it takes.
I won't let this implicate you!" "That's easier said than done," Jameson coughed.

"Nicholas is a police commissioner, not some nobody.
Even if he's a criminal, he'll be in a special cell with heavy surveillance.
Our people won't be able to get to him." Carl's face contorted in worry.
He paced like a caged animal.
Jameson's private doctor arrived soon after and performed a basic checkup.
"How's Mr.
Schmidt doing?" Carl asked.
His eyes were filled with worry.
"Has Mr.
Schmidt been taking various medications all these years? And I don't mean just any medication, but strong ones?" the doctor
asked hesitantly.
A pit formed in Carl's stomach.
"Well, yes, some...
But how is he really?" "The long-term use of medication, especially strong ones, has taken a toll on Mr.
Schmidt's organs.
The recent increase in dosage to manage his condition in the recent hospitalization has made things worse.
The combination is overwhelming his system." "So...
why did Mr.
Schmidt throw up blood?" Carl stammered.
"The emotional stress and damaged organs caused his stomach to an overproduction of gastric enzymes.
These enzymes damaged his blood vessels, leading to acute bleeding.

A more detailed examination at a hospital is necessary for a definitive diagnosis." Carl felt a wave of despair wash over him.
He dismissed the doctor with a wave of his hand.
"Thank you for your help.
You may leave now." After the doctor left, Jameson took some medication.
His breathing soon stabilized.
"Something's not right," Jameson rasped, sitting up with Carl's help.
His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint.
"The video of Nicholas' crime was recorded at the scene.
If the person had this evidence, why wait two whole months to report him? Why now of all times?" Carl couldn't answer
Jameson's questions.
"Nathan took the blame, and Ivory Group suffered greatly because of it.
If they had revealed this evidence earlier, none of this would have happened." Acold glint appeared in Jameson's eyes.
"The only explanation is that the whistleblower had just obtained this evidence.
Previously, you mentioned Amber leaving The Millennium for a while, didn't you?" Carl's face stiffened abruptly, and goosebumps
erupted on his skin.
He asserted confidently, "Mr.
Schmidt! Amber was with me the entire time, I swear! She never touched her phone or left my sight.
Even if she intended something, she wouldn't have had the opportunity! "Besides, I've been monitoring her phone 24/7.
There are no outgoing calls.
I'm positive she's not involved!" "Are you absolutely certain she was never out of your sight, not even for a second?" Jameson
inquired slyly.

Suddenly, a memory flashed in Carl's mind—the car accident.
He had stepped away briefly to handle it, leaving Amber alone in the car for just a few minutes.
But she hadn't met anyone.
So how could she have gotten the video evidence?