Chapter 137

• Meanwhile, at one of the police headquarters where Jake was imprisoned, a grey Lamborghini squeaked in, the sound of tires squealing under friction as the engine came to a halt.
• Slowly, the gull-wing door swooped open, and a man stepped out, his branded shoe plunking on the ground as he made his way to the entrance.
• After adjusting his glasses, he walked through the single door, approaching the correction officer. With a warm smile, he gestured for a handshake, his eyes narrowed in feigned delight. "Good morning, officer," he greeted, his hand still stretched out.