Where exactly did he go during that blank period of time?

Was it that MCN-type companies needed to socialize and cooperate with each other, or did he go out to seek inspiration for a persona?

The Vault kept a stern face and glanced back.

The sky darkened rapidly. After the sun dipped below the horizon, even the last trace of orange-red disappeared.

Blinding headlights flashed across the road, and the sound of horns mingled with the noise, ringing out from time to time. The traffic on the street had reached its evening peak.

Michael Wood was someone who could drive. Unlike herself, who had to walk home after work, he didn’t need to. So, where did the person following him start tailing him?

The city center’s rush hour traffic was not suitable for tailing someone. A single traffic light or a flashy lane change could easily separate them in the sea of cars.

The Vault took out her phone again.

The GPS on Michael Wood’s phone hadn’t been authorized for the relevant apps, so it wasn’t easy to find out his daily driving routes.

The Vault searched through it but found nothing, so she switched to the map navigation app. In the dropdown list of routes, she saw a whole row of options that hadn’t been cleared.

The Vault’s lips curled up slightly.

Sure enough, no matter how cautious a person is, they won’t leave absolutely no trace on their personal phone. Otherwise, their life would be far too tense.

Michael Wood often needed to travel for work. After all, as the boss, he occasionally had to supervise shoots, select advertisements, and recruit newcomers. On the route page—“My Location” to somewhere—addresses from both out of province and within the province were mixed together, revealing his usual work activities.

Even though he was already familiar enough with the routes within the province to not need navigation, whenever he drove back from out of town, he always set the address to places he frequented.

The Vault tried each of the in-province locations and found that one record at the bottom wasn’t for the company or any commercial district, but led to a residential complex.

The Vault hailed a car by the roadside, gave the address, and headed to the destination.

·

The taxi driver smoothly dropped The Vault off at the entrance of the complex.

The Vault carried a briefcase, one hand in her pocket, striking a domineering CEO pose as she walked in through the side gate.

She couldn’t find any keys related to this complex on her, nor did she know exactly where Michael Wood’s property was located. Trident hadn’t given her any hints this time, which meant there must be some crucial hidden evidence here. Or perhaps, it was a clue not meant for her character at all.

The Vault strode toward the security booth. The gate’s barrier was tightly shut, requiring a key card to enter or exit.

The security guard, dressed in a red uniform, was on duty. Seeing her approach, he smiled and greeted her proactively: “Mr. Wood? Not driving today?”

“I lost my wallet today, and all my keys are gone. Haven’t found them yet,” The Vault replied. “By the way, do you have a contact here? Could you help me call a locksmith? I’ll just wait here.”

The security guard responded enthusiastically, “Sure, just a moment. I’ll have him come right away.”

The Vault kept about a meter’s distance from him, watching as he entered the booth, rummaged through a pile of messy business cards on the desk, and picked one out, dialing the number on it.

“Hello, is this the locksmith?” The security guard was clearly familiar with Michael Wood, not even asking for the apartment number, and said directly, “The owner of Bamboo Garden, Building 3, Unit 2, Room 602 needs a lock opened. Can you come now? Great, great. He’s waiting at the entrance. Please hurry. Thank you.”

He gave a couple more instructions, quickly hung up, and smiled at Michael Wood again, saying, “Please wait here for a moment, he’ll be here soon.”

The Vault smiled politely. “Thank you.”

Not long after, a middle-aged man carrying a toolbox arrived. The security guard let them both in.

Last time Michael Wood left, he hadn’t double-locked the door, so opening it was simple. The locksmith fiddled with the lock for a bit and soon had the door open. After getting paid, he left briskly, leaving The Vault alone to inspect the place.

The apartment was very clean, and as soon as she entered, she caught a faint fragrance. The Vault sniffed and looked toward the nearby dining table.

There was a bottle of dried flowers on the table, the colors beautifully matched. She didn’t know what perfume had been sprayed on them, but the scent was so natural and similar to real flowers that The Vault mistook them for fresh at first glance.

The Vault casually opened the shoe cabinet beside her and saw several pairs of black leather shoes, lined up next to various types of high heels.

She picked up the high heels.

At first glance, the high heels didn’t look like any particular size, but the numbers on the soles showed they were all size 39 or 40 and above. Some were even over size 44, likely custom-made.

The soles were all very clean, showing that the owner took great care of them—or perhaps never wore them outside at all.

The Vault closed the cabinet and continued inside.

The decor of this apartment was completely different from the villa, yet there was a certain continuity. The villa was dazzlingly luxurious, almost garish, while this apartment was equally lavish, but the colors were so bright they were almost blinding.

It was obvious the owner liked blue, purple, and red. These three colors together didn’t harmonize and weren’t The Vault’s preferred style.

The place was also filled with all kinds of handmade crafts, covering the wooden shelves—truly a dazzling array.

It was only the small size of the apartment that limited Michael Wood’s aesthetic expression.

The Vault followed the hallway to the bedroom.

The dressing table was covered with jewelry, including amethyst bracelets and necklaces. The many women’s accessories Michael Wood had bought were probably all here. They weren’t for his wife, but for himself.

The Vault turned to look at the wardrobe against the wall, which was filled with all sorts of flamboyant long dresses.

She took one down and compared the length and size, finding some fit and some were too small. On a few that fit, there were creases from being tried on.

The Vault toured the whole apartment. Honestly, even though she was somewhat prepared, she still felt a shock inside. She kept a calm expression, but her feelings were complicated.

Even if she didn’t want to admit it, the truth was right in front of her.

The reason there were no records of “lover” conversations on Michael Wood’s phone wasn’t because he was overly cautious, but because they never existed in the first place.

He hadn’t enjoyed the thrill and excitement of cheating—his own hobby was already thrilling enough.

He was a cross-dresser, and what he feared was simply being found out.

The Vault sighed with emotion.

When she first entered this room, she naively thought it was just a secret love nest for a domineering CEO. It turned out her reasoning was way off, because she simply didn’t understand the lives of the wealthy.

The rich could buy an entire apartment just to play dress-up games and cover up their hobbies. As for her, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t buy a whole apartment just to store her draft paper—after all, one apartment wouldn’t be enough.

·

The viewers in the livestream were just as shocked as The Vault. The male viewers were momentarily speechless, afraid that saying anything would give themselves away.

“Damn… it’s my lack of experience that limited my reasoning.”

“I just… don’t know whether to marvel at the pro’s investigative skills or at the wonders of this crazy world. I can be tolerant and understanding, but the twists are coming so fast I can’t keep up.”

“The steering wheel just flew off…”

“A lot of men are into cross-dressing, they just haven’t tried it. Because women’s clothes are really beautiful.”

“I really couldn’t tell. I honestly didn’t see it coming. Michael Wood turned out to be this kind of person.”

“Pro, can you give us some narration? She’s been silent the whole time, and I still don’t know how she figured out to come here.”

“The plot exploration in this livestream is just on another level. Following the pro is a guaranteed win.”

Chapter 26: Intimidation

The Vault sat in the apartment for a long time, half the time spacing out, half the time playing on her phone.

But her calm expression was so inscrutable that no one could tell what she was thinking. The viewers assumed she was still diligently searching for clues.

When the in-game time passed 9 o’clock, The Vault made herself a cup of instant noodles from Michael Wood’s kitchen. After her late-night snack, feeling refreshed, she finally got up and went downstairs.

She had hesitated, but ultimately decided not to tell Julian Grant about this clue for now, so as not to affect her heroic image in Julian Grant’s eyes.

As long as she acted like nothing happened, she was still that domineering CEO.

When The Vault walked out the main door, the sensor light in the lobby happened to go out, plunging everything around her into the darkness of night. In her mind, Michael Wood’s line of poetry to her surfaced unexpectedly:

“Bathed in the dazzling light of the pole star, you walk through the night toward me.”

Well… that’s just like him.

The Vault used her phone to navigate to the villa’s address, following the planned route as she slowly walked out of the complex, ready to hail a ride back from a convenient spot.