"Now we are indeed in a work setting, so you shouldn't resist me. Stress disorders can be treated, and I want to help you." Quinn Foster paused and asked, "Has Harry Forrest contacted you? Did he pass on any message to you? Many times, the human brain is more easily influenced than you think. You can't solve everything on your own, I hope you can trust me."

The Vault said, "No."

Quinn Foster enunciated harshly, "You're lying."

The Vault finally looked away, glanced over his face, and said, "You're the one who's lying."

Quinn Foster: "..."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Do you have x-ray vision or something?"

The Vault replied modestly, "Just so-so."

Quinn Foster chatted idly with her for a while, realizing he really couldn't get anything out of her that she didn't want to say, so he gave up.

Wasting time has never been his principle. Quinn Foster casually ticked a few boxes on the report he brought, wrote a comment, picked up the file, and got ready to leave.

When he reached the entryway, The Vault suddenly said, "Next time, I hope you'll call me before you come. Today I almost brought a man upstairs. What if he saw you and there was some misunderstanding?"

Quinn Foster wanted to say he had called, but The Vault's phone is never online, so how could a normal person reach her? Halfway through, he realized what she meant, and asked in alarm, "Who?"

The Vault smiled at him.

Quinn Foster exclaimed again, "Really?!"

He immediately rushed to the window to look down. But by now, the area below was already empty.

The Vault said ambiguously, "Please respect the life of an adult."

Quinn Foster felt very conflicted inside, but his position forced him to restrain himself, so he could only say dryly, "Alright then."

He walked to the door, then couldn't help but look back and ask, "Who was it, really?"

The Vault waved her hand. "Goodbye."

·

On Wednesday morning, autumn rain was falling in a steady drizzle.

Julian Grant switched to a low-profile car to pick her up, and since the weather had turned cooler, he even left a trench coat in the car.

The Vault stood by the roadside, holding a cup of soy milk and a meat bun, waiting for him.

Julian Grant asked, "Why aren't you eating?"

The Vault: "Do you want it?"

Julian Grant was stunned.

If he didn't take it, he'd feel unwilling—after all, it was the first time The Vault had truly treated him to a meal, even if it was only worth five yuan, even if the occasion was completely informal. But if he did take it... he'd already had breakfast.

The Vault tore open the plastic bag and, right in front of him, took a bite.

Julian Grant's facial muscles twitched, then he put on a world-weary look and said, "Get in the car. Be proactive."

The Vault suppressed a laugh and said, "Thank you. I'm really treating you to a meal today, really."

Julian Grant started the car, grumbling, "Do you think saying it twice makes it more sincere? Can you be serious for once? Do I really care about eating your food? Do I?!"

The Vault listened in silence, nodding along.

She hadn't expected Julian Grant to believe even her most childish jokes, especially to be so fixated on her treating him to a meal, not even minding soy milk and buns.

...It really wasn't necessary.

She had genuinely wanted to treat him to a meal before, but he left on his own.

Julian Grant's indignation didn't last two minutes before it faded, and he turned to discuss things to keep in mind for the meeting. He told her not to get angry, not to get agitated, and definitely not to make a scene when she saw the other party.

But he thought these three emotions were hard to see in The Vault, so there was no need to worry.

After signing at the entrance, the two entered a private room.

The woman across from them was clearly only twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but looked already thirty-five or thirty-six. She was the prototype for Julia Campbell.

Judging by her features, she didn't really resemble Julia Campbell; the real person's features were a bit more delicate than the model's, but the air of despair about her completely overshadowed her beauty.

Born into a middle-class family, married to a billionaire, and ended up like this—her life story was truly lamentable.

The Vault pulled out a chair and sat down across from her.

The two faced each other through a glass window, staring at each other, with no movement except for blinking.

One looked numb, with dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped in defeat, as if she had lost all hope in life.

The other was expressionless, exuding a heavy aura, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the woman opposite.

The room was silent, the ticking of the second hand became clear.

Julian Grant glanced at his watch, confirming that time was indeed passing, and he hadn't suddenly developed some superpower. And this was reality, not a game simulation.

Julian Grant shifted his posture, his gaze moving between the two, suspecting they had some special way of communicating.

After this strange scene had lasted more than ten minutes, Julian Grant couldn't take it anymore, bent down, and said, "Can you two communicate in a way I can understand?"

The Vault nodded.

Julian Grant waited, but she didn't speak, so he added, "You know this visit is only half an hour, right? Wasn't it you who insisted I bring you to see her? Is all you wanted just to gaze at her affectionately?"

Hearing the reminder about time, The Vault moved and finally spoke: "Hello."

The woman behind the glass looked at her, still not responding.

"I'm Harry Forrest's teacher," The Vault said. "You may not know, or you may not care, but he is now wanted nationwide."

The Vault continued, "I came to see you today to ask: how did you know about your husband's robbery and perjury back then?"

The woman's hair had been cut short, her whole face clearly exposed, allowing The Vault to see any subtle expression at a glance.

The Vault said, "It couldn't have been him who told you, because he didn't trust you. This was his secret, he wouldn't tell anyone. And it shouldn't have been something he let slip while drunk—if he had that habit, after years of drinking, it would have come out long ago. More importantly, the scene arrangement overlapped with some details from the first three murder cases that the police never released, yet you managed to recreate them. That can't be a simple coincidence. Only the real killer could have told you those details."

The woman's gaze flickered, and the muscles under her eyes twitched slightly. Though she hid it well, The Vault still noticed.

Julian Grant saw The Vault deliberately show a knowing look, narrowed his eyes, and stared inquisitively at the woman opposite.

"After the murder, there was only a short interval before the crime scene was staged. Honestly, the fact that you could calm down so quickly is incredible to me. After all, you're not someone that clear-headed. I'm sure that, although you didn't mean to kill your husband that day, from your reaction, you'd already imagined such a scenario in your mind. Someone gave you instructions, taught you how to stage the scene and frame Harry Forrest. You remembered it."

The woman met her gaze without flinching, but swallowed.

"Who was it?"

The woman lifted her chin slightly, as if uncomfortable, and began to fidget.

The Vault pressed both hands on the table, leaned in, stared into her eyes, and asked more forcefully, "Who was it?"

The woman still didn't respond.

The Vault's patience was exhausted, and her tone, after so much probing, became impatient: "By now, many people have died because of this. You got what you wanted, and for that, you sacrificed Harry Forrest's whole life, along with his mother and sister. Maybe there will be more people behind them. Your life is already far more despicable and shameless than your husband's. Do you really think you can ever return to peace for the rest of your days?"

She opened her mouth and finally said, "There will always be people who are unfortunate in this world."

"Unfortunate?" The Vault seemed to hear something funny and actually laughed, but it was full of sarcasm. She said, "Your misfortune was your own choice. Did anyone force you to marry your husband? Did anyone force you to live humbly in that family for seven years? Did anyone force you to cheat, get sick, commit crimes, and go to jail? You had countless chances to choose differently, to turn back, but you didn't. You walked step by step to where you are today, and you should bear the consequences. But what about Harry Forrest? When did he ever get to choose his own life? Was his misfortune caused by his own mistakes? And yet you say, 'there will always be people who are unfortunate'? What right do you have to compare yourself to him?"

The Vault leaned back and said, "What you have isn't misfortune, it's stupidity. What he has isn't misfortune, it's man-made. Isn't that so?"

Julian Grant was afraid The Vault would push too hard and the woman would just walk away.

The woman across from them took a deep breath and retorted, "I didn't try to frame Harry Forrest, and the police didn't suspect him because of me. In fact, I even helped clear his name, didn't I?"

"Is that your excuse for deceiving yourself?" The Vault asked. "Why did you cover up for the real killer? You're already going to prison, there's no benefit between you anymore. Why bother?"