But the sky is the sky, destined to disappoint them. She calmly set her phone to silent, cooperated with the doctor to escort Julian Grant for an X-ray, then went to the front desk to pay the fees. Throughout the entire process, she showed not a hint of panic—composed and unhurried.

After settling Julian Grant and with nothing else on her hands, she found a quiet spot to sit down and answered the call.

As soon as the signal connected, a wailing, ghostly shriek came from the other end. From the ups and downs in the voice, one could easily imagine the state of the person on the other side.

Lucy Sanders, having been left hanging for so long, had already gone from initial frenzy to collapse. Now, upon hearing her voice, there was no anger—only the relief of someone grabbing at a lifeline.

She pleaded humbly with her most trusted son, calling for help: “Son! A bunch of scammers came to the house, I don’t know where they got the key, they barged right in to arrest me, and even pretended to be police. Hurry home! Save me! Call the police, they’re trying to arrest me! They want to kill me!”

The Vault listened to her finish before calmly saying, “I called the police. They’re the police I called. I suggest you cooperate with the investigation. Assaulting an officer is also a crime.”

“You… you called the police?” On the other end, Lucy Sanders was stunned, then screamed hysterically, “No son in the world has ever called the police on his own mother! Michael Wood, are you crazy? I’m your mother!”

The Vault hung up directly, blocked the number, then got up and headed to the ward.

Julian Grant didn’t actually have to undergo a full physical exam—after all, that would be too inhumane. He just needed to lie in bed, wait for the game time to pass, and then receive the medical data that Julia Campbell had once obtained at the hospital.

But during this period, he could only lie in bed, unable to go anywhere.

When The Vault entered the ward, Julian Grant was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, looking utterly lifeless.

What should have been a thrilling murder mystery game had been turned by him into an idle game. It was rather pitiful, and she didn’t even know how to comfort him.

The Vault pulled up a chair, sat down beside him, and asked, “How long will it take?”

Julian Grant glanced at the prompt and said, “At least until the afternoon.”

The Vault said, “Lucy Sanders should have already been taken away by the police. I’ll go home to get you some clean clothes and snacks, how about that?”

Julian Grant lifted his head, finally showing a bit of spirit, and added, “And some books or a computer, please.”

The Vault: “Sure.”

Julian Grant hesitated, then said, “You don’t have to stay with me, do you? Aren’t you going to look for clues?”

“No rush. There’s no direction right now, so what clues would I look for?” The Vault reassured him, “Aren’t we supposed to be giving the audience a lesson in values? If I just left like this, it wouldn’t look good.”

So far, the person she suspected most as the murderer was Julia Campbell. It was just as well to keep an eye on him and see what he did next.

·

When The Vault returned to the villa, the place was already a mess. The floor was littered with all sorts of smashed ornaments.

Vases, porcelain, appliances—even the paintings hanging on the walls had been taken down and stomped on. There were scratches all over the walls, and near the entrance, a smudge of indistinct footprints, evidence of a fierce struggle.

Given Michael Wood’s personality, he definitely wouldn’t have cheap goods in his home. Lucy Sanders’s rampage had truly cost him dearly.

The officer who responded to the call had left a contact number on the dining table, hoping she could come by to handle things when she had time.

The Vault looked at the note and couldn’t help but find it funny. She stepped around the debris on the floor and made her way upstairs.

She paused at the doorway, let her gaze sweep the room, then walked in.

Julian Grant had left in a hurry and hadn’t brought his phone. He’d left it on the bedside table against the wall.

The Vault went straight over, picked it up, and tried to unlock it. She failed twice in a row. Without hesitation, she slipped the phone into her pocket, planning to try again later.

Next, The Vault walked to the front of the walk-in closet.

Julian Grant had spent an entire day in the villa; he couldn’t have been sleeping the whole time. In such a large villa, there must be plenty of clues hidden. Yet after The Vault returned, he hadn’t provided any useful information, which suggested that what he’d found was likely detrimental to himself.

And when The Vault came back, his first reaction was to leave the living room and return to the bedroom, even refusing to let her in. So, most likely, he’d hidden those things in the room.

The Vault reached into every pocket.

It’s said that men can be very skilled at hiding private money, a strategy honed through years of guerrilla warfare. But Julian Grant was inexperienced and didn’t guard against The Vault much, so he probably just hid things in places not visible on the surface, thinking that would be enough.

The Vault let out a hypocritical sigh.

She couldn’t really blame herself. If a man isn’t ruthless, his position isn’t secure.

·

The viewers in the livestream watched her busy for quite a while, wandering around the closet but not tidying up. They finally realized her intention, and for a moment, their hearts ached.

“Just a second ago I was praising the boss for being a good man, saying women care more for women than men do. I was wrong. Turns out they’re both national-level drama queens. Respect, respect. [fist salute]”

“So much for trusting Q-ge, but behind his back she’s searching for evidence of his crimes. [pointing]”

“This looks just like searching for a private stash. Q-ge really trusts you, you know?”

“I believed in the trust and teamwork you two talked about before. Poor Q-ge, so naive and defenseless, still in the hospital feeling grateful to the boss. I really feel sorry for him.”

“Men’s words are all lies. Even after putting on a man’s body, you’re still cursed. Scary.”

“People’s hearts are truly sinister…”

“Deliberately let Q-ge stay home to gather clues, then come back to reap the rewards and win all the goodwill. Truly a ruthless man.”

Chapter 29: Drama Queen

As the audience furiously complained, The Vault’s hand suddenly paused, then she pulled a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of a coat.

It was clearly a few clippings from newspapers, of various sizes, roughly folded together in chronological order.

The Vault opened them and laid them out.

From the initial few lines, to later full-page reports and analyses, and finally the nationwide public condemnation—this material documented the entire process of a murderer’s relapse after being released from prison.

Although Harry Forrest’s name was replaced with an alias, the news content was directly excerpted from real media reports. Anyone who had read them could easily guess who it was.

But why were they collecting news about Harry Forrest?

Was it Michael Wood who was paying attention to Harry Forrest, or Julia Campbell? So far, after Harry Forrest was released, he hadn’t participated in their lives; instead, they were the ones actively learning about him.

As soon as the items were found, everyone in the livestream gasped.

They had almost forgotten about this suspect, whom they had condemned and identified as the culprit. He had been absent the whole time, and no one expected him to reappear in the latter half of the story in this way.

It felt like the main plot had suddenly gone off track.

·

After reading, The Vault put everything back in the pocket as if nothing had happened and continued searching the remaining places.

Unfortunately, Julian Grant was quite clever and hadn’t put all the clues in one place. The other pockets were very “clean”—The Vault found nothing.

She knelt on one knee and started pulling out the bottom drawers one by one, reaching inside to feel around the walls and floor.

When she got to the third drawer, she actually found a document envelope stuck to a spot on the inner wall.

Judging by how well Julian Grant had hidden it, this document must be important.

Sometimes, his thinking was easy to guess.

He really was the type to play the naive and sweet role.

The Vault couldn’t help but think so.

She carefully untied the string on the envelope and pulled out the documents inside. It was clearly a confirmed diagnosis report from the CDC.

The Vault looked at the HIV positive result at the bottom and pressed her hand to her eyelids.

Although Michael Wood didn’t like Julia Campbell, and their family relationship was extremely bad, he didn’t have any questionable relationships with other women. Or rather, The Vault suspected that Michael Wood actually didn’t have the ability to commit the crime.

His life was simple and transparent. The only secret hideaway he had was for his own cross-dressing, and there was no sign of anyone else living there. Years of infertility, avoiding doctors out of shame. Most likely, he had some health issues.

In that case, he had no way to contract HIV, nor could he have passed it on to anyone else.

The name on this report was Julia Campbell, dated nearly three months ago. The real cheater should be her.

She couldn’t stand Michael Wood’s neglect, nor Lucy Sanders’s malicious slander, and under immense pressure, she desperately wanted a child. So she sought out special means, only for misfortune to follow, pushing her into another abyss.