Can’t Win Me Back

"I will take it if my condition flares up," Remy said, his voice devoid of emotion as he stared blankly at the bottle in his hand.

With a feigned smile, Sheryl replied, "Sir instructed me to ensure you took the pill."

A chill ran down Remy's spine. Knitting his brows together, he questioned, "But why?"

"This is Sir's order. Why are you questioning it?" Sheryl's smirk turned cold and mocking." What, are you afraid Sir has ill intentions toward you? Have you lost your trust in him?"

Remy held his breath. "No, that's not it."

"Remy, swore before Sir to serve him loyally for the rest of your life. You pledged to give him your very being. You haven't forgotten that, have you?'

Tilting her chin slightly upward, Sheryl shot him a frosty sidelong glance. "Even if Sir fed you poison, shouldn't you take it without hesitation? Why are you hesitating? Don't disappoint Sir.

The suffocating pressure in Remy's chest intensified. It felt as though someone had a rifle trained on him, forcing him to retreat step by step toward the edge of a cliff. One more step, and he'd plummet to his death.

Clenching his jaw, he opened the pill bottle.

Under Sheryl's watchful gaze, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it.

Very good. Always remember that you work for Sir. Never forget where you came from. With a mocking scoff, Sheryl turned on her heel and marched away confidently.

Remy moved forward, his expression unreadable.

reached a blind spot in the

of the toilet, he jammed his fingers into the back of his throat, his eyes wide and

convulsed violently, his back arching as he vomited the contents of his stomach- blue

wiped at the cold, sticky drool clinging to his face. His eyes, bloodshot and brimming with

years, he smiled-a genuine smile, one born from the depths of

uncanny resemblance to the charming, gentle-looking man

Villa.

sat with several VIPs in the most

worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, as they basked

distinguished

Beckett Group, now," Rafe said, raising his glass in a toast, his voice thick with alcohol;

is infamous for being difficult

interacted with him once during my rise to this position. Even then, I knew he wouldn't last long as president. And as it turns

erupted around the

about what serves him right," another guest interjected. "He simply couldn't hold onto what

business assuming he'd inherited the company just because he held the title of president.

room resounded with boisterous

smiling faintly, lifted a teacup-a stark contrast to the wine glasses around him. Taking an elegant sip, he asked, "Mr. Gentry, you don't mind if I drink tea instead,

by the respect shown to him. With a hearty laugh, he replied, "Not at all! You're too gracious, Mr. Beckett. We have many

Justin's eyes, though his voice remained calm. "In that case, I'll entrust Project A5 to

himself, citing