Julian Grant took out a notebook—he still habitually recorded key information with a pen. “Do you still remember Dr. Thornton?”

“Of course I remember. It was such a big incident, who could forget?” The nurse’s eyes, lined with fine wrinkles, showed a trace of confusion. “But it’s been so long. What are you here to ask about now?”

Julian Grant: “That medical accident back then. Charles Linton, right? He accused Dr. Harold Thornton of negligence during the treatment of his nephew, which led to his nephew developing a severe limp after the surgery.”

The nurse shook her head and sighed helplessly. “It’s normal for accidents to happen during surgery. We had already explained the risks to the family before the operation, and they signed the consent form after expressing their understanding. Even the best surgeons in the world can’t guarantee a 100% success rate. Besides, the patient’s condition was already critical at the time, and too much time was lost between the injury and getting to the hospital. The doctor’s goal was to save his life. The fact that he only ended up with a limp was already quite good. If patients insist on seeing doctors as miracle workers, no one can bear that responsibility!”

“So, you believe that Harold Thornton did not make any mistakes during the surgery.” Julian Grant flipped to a previous page, looked at his notes, and asked, “Charles Linton said he learned about this by eavesdropping on a conversation among the medical staff. For such rumors to spread, it must have come from someone involved in the surgery. Do you know who it was?”

The nurse firmly denied it. “It definitely wasn’t me. I don’t know where he heard it from. The hospital held countless review meetings about Dr. Thornton because of these two incidents. Since even they ultimately concluded it wasn’t a medical accident, I think you should trust the experts.”

Julian Grant looked up and said, “Of course. We’re not questioning anyone, just gathering opinions from all sides, not making personal judgments.”

The nurse nodded, calming down a bit. “Sorry, we deal with these things every day. It’s just a very sensitive topic.”

Julian Grant: “I understand.”

Standing in the back, The Vault suddenly asked, “Is there a lot of competition among doctors?”

The nurse was momentarily stunned, then nodded. “Of course there is. What industry isn’t competitive? Competing for titles, for opportunities to further your studies, for building your resume—sometimes even for patients. It’s the same everywhere.”

Julian Grant: “So is it possible that another doctor was influencing Charles Linton?”

“That I don’t know, I really can’t say.” The nurse added regretfully, “But at that time, Dr. Thornton was indeed a hot candidate for associate chief physician. He really was just one step away.”

They asked her a few more questions, but since so much time had passed, she couldn’t recall some of the finer details. In her memory, though, Harold Thornton was a very good doctor to his patients—and by good, she meant in a truly practical sense.

For example, he would try to prescribe the cheapest medications; he was very patient with elderly patients from the countryside who couldn’t even speak Mandarin well; during surgery, he would choose suturing methods that minimized scarring and prevented tearing, even if it made the procedure much more difficult; and for patients with financial difficulties, he would tell them about inexpensive medications outside the standard medical list, and so on.

Harold Thornton was rather soft-hearted, which sometimes led him to cross professional boundaries—some of his actions actually carried risks. Even if his medication advice was correct, when human nature is tested, people don’t remember your good intentions.

The nurse added, “Nowadays, doctors and nurses have to be careful with their words. If you’re unlucky and run into an unreasonable patient, it can be a huge hassle. So Dr. Thornton really was a good doctor. Doctors like him are hard to find these days. After all, the story of the farmer and the snake happens too often—everyone has to learn to protect themselves.”

The Vault agreed deeply, sighing, “It’s the same for teachers. Sometimes you never know if your proudest student, the one you put your heart into teaching, might turn out to be a disguised psychopath. So indifference is the safest way to survive in this society.”

Julian Grant: “……” Why do you both have such rich life experiences?

He almost wanted to send The Vault a negative pop-up warning.

The Vault suddenly changed tone and said, “That’s why people who stay true to their original intentions are especially worthy of respect. If there weren’t so many ordinary people in the world, how could the greatness of the brave stand out?”

Julian Grant tilted his head. “Are you talking about… yourself?”

While appreciating himself, The Vault was also generous in appreciating others. “I think that includes you, too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be friends with you.”

Julian Grant was flattered. “Thank you.”

The Vault smiled, then turned back to the nurse, bringing the conversation back on track. “I understand what you mean—Dr. Thornton was a good person, and there was no medical accident, right?”

“I’m just saying if—just if!” The nurse, loosened up by their banter, finally said what she’d been holding back. “Even if Dr. Thornton did have a tiny mishap during the surgery, his surgical skills were truly excellent. In the end, he saved the patient and kept the outcome within a good range. If it had been someone else, maybe they couldn’t have done as well. Should he be asked to pay with his life?”

Julian Grant raised his eyebrows sensitively and glanced at her.

The Vault seriously considered the question. “From my outsider’s perspective, I probably agree with you. But from the patient’s point of view, very few people can calmly accept being that rare exception.”

In reality, many people would make the same choice, but the public is naturally biased toward the vulnerable. When faced with such controversies, they often act in the opposite way.

The nurse became indignant as she spoke. “He did so many good things, saved so many lives, but just made one mistake and it’s as if he’s beyond redemption. Why are people always so harsh on those who are capable? If they could just share a little of the tolerance they have for themselves with others, maybe Dr. Thornton wouldn’t have ended up like this!”

Clearly, Harold Thornton’s death was something she hadn’t been able to let go of for over a decade.

Julian Grant scribbled a few lines in his notebook, pausing at the end.

The nurse realized she’d said too much and, not knowing how to recover, pressed her lips together and stood there, looking for an excuse to leave.

The Vault took the initiative. “You go ahead and get back to work. If we have any more questions, we’ll come find you.”

The nurse nodded wearily and hurried away.

Chapter 90 Charles Linton

The two watched the nurse’s long shadow flicker and fade down the dim corridor, then left the storage room as well.

Sunlight couldn’t reach the narrow hallway. Even though the cleaning staff tidied up every day, there was still a damp, moldy smell in the air.

Julian Grant had disliked hospitals since he was a child. He sniffed uncomfortably, slowed his pace, and flipped through the booklet in his hand.

He hadn’t actually written down anything important just now. Judging from the nurse’s last few statements, perhaps Gabriel Thornton really wasn’t so “blameless” before his death—at least, in the surgery on Charles Linton’s nephew, he might indeed have made a small mistake.

That mistake was ultimately remedied in time by his professional skills and kept under control; within the scope of medical practice, it should have been considered a normal risk. However, after Charles Linton found out, this small error was magnified, pursued, and excessively blamed.

Perhaps Charles Linton really did overhear this somewhere in the hospital. From a layman’s perspective, he insisted he was right and refused to accept the professionals’ explanations. The hospital’s defense of Harold Thornton seemed to him like insiders protecting their own, and the stalled communication between both sides only intensified his emotions, leading him to take extreme action in the end.

That’s how it seemed for now.

Julian Grant put away his notebook and said, “It looks like Harold Thornton had a good reputation. Even after more than ten years and all those scandals, there are still people willing to speak up for him.”

The Vault said, “People who really know each other well aren’t easily swayed by outside opinions. It’s usually the acquaintances or distant colleagues who jump up and down the most when something happens.”

Julian Grant: “That’s true.”

Someone approached from the opposite direction, so Julian Grant fell silent. Only after the person had passed did he continue, “But we didn’t get to ask about Meredith Stone before you let her go.”

The Vault smiled. “You could tell from her tone—she supports Harold Thornton, she’s basically half a fan. So her view would definitely be: a setup. There’s no point asking. Better to find a second witness. Do we have one?”

Julian Grant pointed upstairs, signaling to continue the interviews.

Today, there was another doctor from the same department as Harold Thornton on duty. That doctor rarely worked shifts anymore, mostly attending meetings elsewhere, so they were lucky to catch him today.

When Julian Grant arrived, there was still a patient in the room. The middle-aged man, wearing black-rimmed glasses, was explaining something to the patient in a neutral tone.

The two stood quietly at the door, waiting for the consultation to finish. When the patient left, they stepped forward, took out their credentials, and said, “Sorry to interrupt, just five minutes.”