“What do you mean by ‘an accident’? Go back! If you pay for their medical expenses, does that mean they don’t have to compensate you?” Julian Grant was extremely angry, his tone forceful, but the grip on her arm was neither too tight nor too loose. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier? I thought you were the only one being attacked, but it turns out it was mutual? They dared to break into your home and even hurt you—do you really think this can be settled so easily? They wish!”

The Vault politely tried to stop him: “Let it go.”

Julian Grant felt the person in front of him was swaying unsteadily, his brows tightly furrowed. “What do you mean, let it go? You’re just going to swallow this? Are you afraid of trouble? If anything happens, I’ll handle it. It was because of Trident’s instance that they hold a grudge against you. I came here today not to see you suffer in silence.”

The Vault’s expression was very complicated.

Supporting her, Julian Grant reached for his phone with one hand. “Go rest in the car for a bit. I’ll call a lawyer over right now.”

The Vault sighed and had to admit, “I wanted to kick his face, but I’m too short, my legs are short, my muscles weren’t stretched, I slipped, and just happened to hit the paint bucket.”

The road to justice is always full of obstacles.

This must be fate’s way of testing one’s physical abilities.

Julian Grant froze mid-action, turning to stone, only his eyes moving—from her face to her knee, and finally back to her face, where she was trying hard to act like nothing happened.

This was…

This was just too vivid.

Julian Grant pictured it: with The Vault’s reserved personality, in such an unexpected scene, whether there was silence or blaring background music, it would be especially comical.

He pressed his lips together, trying to hold it in. In the end, he couldn’t, and burst out laughing.

The Vault: “……”

She knew it—this man wasn’t kind-hearted.

Expressionless, The Vault walked past him toward the car, not forgetting to urge, “Let’s go home, hurry up.”

After all the commotion, it was nearly five o’clock. The sky overhead had turned a chaotic gray-blue, and the streetlights were about to go out.

Julian Grant soon got into the driver’s seat, making sure The Vault had fastened her seatbelt.

After starting the car, he suddenly remembered and said, “You can’t stay at your place now, can you?”

The Vault’s address and identity had already been exposed. Even if no one came to splash paint again, there was no guarantee that overzealous fans wouldn’t show up. Sometimes, fans are scarier than enemies—especially since their neighborhood’s management wasn’t strict.

The Vault considered for a moment and said softly, “I’ll look for a new place, but could you take me home for now?”

Julian Grant said, “What if someone comes again? Fans might show up during the day. Your photos went viral last night, and you gained millions of followers overnight. You’re a single woman with little means of self-defense—it’s not safe for you to stay there.”

The Vault was silent for a moment, then said tiredly, “I’ll go back to pack some things and stay at a hotel for a few days.”

Without thinking, Julian Grant blurted out, “Why not just stay at my place?”

Chapter 58: Temporary Stay

As soon as Julian Grant said it, he regretted it, realizing his words could be misunderstood.

What he meant was that Trident had its own hotel business, and at the very least, he could help her apply for a safe, free place to stay. After all, this incident was caused by 【Crime Analysis】, and Trident bore some responsibility and had a duty to protect players.

But for an adult man to suddenly invite a woman to his home—it sounded suspicious no matter how you looked at it.

Julian Grant immediately glanced at The Vault’s expression. Fortunately, she didn’t look displeased. She just smiled and asked, “Under what pretense do you think I could go to your place?”

Since she put it that way, Julian Grant’s thoughts shifted.

People always have moments of inexplicable impulse—once you’re on the wrong path, you just keep going.

Julian Grant’s mind spun, and he explained logically, “Your personal information has been seriously leaked, your fame and controversy are both rising, and you’re right in the spotlight. Finding a new, safe place isn’t easy. You can’t just buy a new place, right? You’d have to rent. But renting still risks leaking your info. Don’t underestimate the extremists out there—they have countless ways to track you down. You’re a single woman with little self-defense ability, living alone—it’s really not safe.”

The Vault just smiled noncommittally.

She slept poorly and couldn’t stand living with others, so she hadn’t even considered moving into Julian Grant’s place. But right now, she was truly exhausted and just wanted to find a quiet place to rest.

Trident’s game had drained her mentally; she’d been tense all day, then kept up all night by a bunch of weirdos. Now, her brain even ached from overuse.

Julian Grant continued, “I have to work during the day, so I’m not home most of the time—no one will bother you. The guest room is far from my bedroom, so we can keep our distance at night too. You can stay for a while, and once Trident cleans up your info online, you can look for a place you like. But you’ll have to do the cleaning—I don’t accept messy roommates.”

After he finished, Julian Grant waited a moment, but The Vault didn’t respond. He turned his head and saw she was resting with her eyes closed—he couldn’t tell if she was asleep.

Awkwardly, Julian Grant tugged at the corner of his mouth. After passing the next intersection, he stopped the car.

The autumn morning air was still a bit chilly. The Vault was only wearing a thin nightgown, hugging herself to keep warm.

Julian Grant took off his suit jacket and carefully draped it over The Vault.

Her eyelids fluttered, as if she wanted to open her eyes but didn’t.

About half an hour later, there were noticeably more cars on the road.

Julian Grant turned a corner, slowed down, and prepared to enter the neighborhood.

His gaze fell outside the window, spotting a breakfast shop on the street. He hesitated about whether to detour, when suddenly a voice sounded beside him.

“Where did you get this jacket?”

Julian Grant was startled. He turned to see The Vault half-awake, hugging his suit jacket and examining the sleeve. She even lifted it to sniff the scent.

Julian Grant’s ears turned red. He looked away and replied slowly, “…Issued by Trident.”

The Vault remarked, “Your Trident benefits are really nice.”

Julian Grant replied dryly, “Yeah.”

He drove straight into the neighborhood, momentarily forgetting what he’d just been thinking.

The Vault asked again, “What about this car? Do you have to pay to borrow it? How much does it cost?”

Julian Grant pretended to be busy watching the road, grunting a few times.

The Vault raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

Julian Grant said, “It’s fine, it’s free to borrow—employee benefit. If you need to impress at a class reunion, we even offer a full package service.”

The Vault sighed again, “Your boss is really a good person.”

Julian Grant didn’t know how to take this compliment—it felt a bit odd. He went along, “Yes. Our boss is approachable, humble, pragmatic, respects new blood in the company, and is open to all sorts of unusual ideas. Other than being a bit tough on his son, he hardly has any flaws.”

The Vault laughed, “I can tell you admire him.”

Turning the steering wheel, Julian Grant drove into the underground garage. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her expression and casually asked, “Have you ever seen a photo of Trident’s boss?”

“Nope,” The Vault replied, not very interested. “Most rich people don’t rely on their looks.”

Julian Grant cleared his throat, meaningfully saying, “Trident’s boss’s son is quite handsome, and he’s very charming too. If you want, I can introduce you sometime—hardly anyone dislikes him.”

The Vault nodded in strong agreement, “Exactly! He’s a rare flower among the wealthy.”

Julian Grant: “…??”

The Vault added with genuine admiration, “He’s really, really rich.”

Julian Grant: “……” What a superficial woman.

He parked the car, yanked up the handbrake, and pulled the jacket from her arms.

“We’re here!”

The Vault: “?”

Sometimes Q-ge really is fickle. There’s not even a chance to coax him.

·

·

Julian Grant’s place was very close to Trident’s company. He liked peace and quiet, so he bought both the upper and lower floors.

Ignoring the price of such a location, his home still looked pretty ordinary.

It was bright and simply decorated. The tables and cabinets were filled with various trial electronic products from Trident’s company. Large devices occupied almost every corner, but overall, it was cluttered but not messy.

The Vault stood at the door, slowly changing her shoes.

Julian Grant walked around the living room. It was obvious this was his first time bringing a woman home—he felt a bit lost.

He turned back and looked at The Vault, who was standing obediently at the door waiting for instructions, and finally realized—he didn’t feel the slightest resistance to inviting a woman home and disrupting his private life. It had nothing to do with work. It was almost unimaginable.

He must be crazy.

Julian Grant scratched his head, and finally, a beat late, said, “You must be tired. I’ll go make up a bed for you.”