The sudden pain surged violently, and Sylvan Cheney endured it, with sweat beads seeping from his forehead.
One hand held tightly onto the steering wheel, while the other hand clenched into a fist, with veins bulging on the back of his hand, changing the color of his entire face.
Jasmine Yale seemed to be saying something, but he didn't hear a word clearly, as the pain spread instantly throughout his body, making his hands and feet ice cold.
Jasmine was talking, but there was no response, so she stopped speaking.
At first, she wasn't aware of anything until the car in front was moving, but Sylvan's car remained still.
Behind them, the sound of honking horns rang out relentlessly!
"Beep beep," "beep beep"...
One sound overpowered another!
"President, are you... what's wrong?" Jasmine Yale's face suddenly changed, grabbing his hand, "Why do you look so unwell? Where is it uncomfortable? Speak up!"
