The Vault: “I think the testimonies of the doctors and nurses are basically credible. They do protect their colleagues to some extent, but there aren’t any obvious lies. As for Charles Linton...”

Every victim habitually casts themselves as completely vulnerable, seeking the sympathy of bystanders. To do this, on one hand, they emphasize their own excellence and innocence; on the other, they spare no effort to prove the shamelessness and despicableness of the other party.

Charles Linton’s testimony is exactly like this.

From the very beginning, he told The Vault and the others about his years of hardship, made no attempt to hide his leg defect, and described Harold Thornton as someone mentally unstable, morally corrupt, and two-faced. He used his intense emotions and indignant accusations to cover up the gaps in his logic.

Such a polarized characterization shows that he harbors strong negative feelings toward Harold Thornton, and has never felt guilty about causing someone’s death.

The Vault said, “If you strip away all his subjective descriptions, those are the parts that can’t be trusted.”

Charles Linton’s narrative was clear, with no stuttering, confusion, or repetition. Judging by his wording and attitude, he must have rehearsed this scenario; before the two of them found him, he had already prepared his story.

The Vault: “The only real contradiction between the two sides’ statements is, in that car accident back then, who actually hit whom.”

Julian Grant frowned, slowly stopping at a red light, his fingers tapping the side of the steering wheel. “The medical staff all tacitly assume that Charles Linton took the opportunity for revenge and caused Harold Thornton’s death, so they feel a sense of shared outrage. But Charles Linton insists he was the victim of a staged accident.”

“This actually isn’t hard to verify. The dashcam footage should still be in the records, so Charles Linton has no reason to lie about that.” The Vault licked her dry lips and said, “And there’s one thing Charles Linton is right about: it’s unlikely he would have killed Harold Thornton for his nephew’s sake. If he killed someone, where would he get the money?”

Charles Linton made such a fuss for so long, mainly because he wanted money.

The Vault guessed that back then, Charles Linton probably knew the surgery wasn’t a medical accident, but still tried to use the opportunity to extort money from Harold Thornton. Unfortunately, the hospital, used to dealing with doctor-patient disputes, made its own judgment and ultimately chose to support Harold Thornton, so Charles Linton’s plan fell through.

The Vault twisted open a bottle cap, took a sip, and continued, “I think, after his first plan failed, Charles Linton probably resorted to some less-than-honorable means to continue his extortion.”

Julian Grant asked suspiciously, “So, under Charles Linton’s pressure, Harold Thornton was driven to desperation and forced to choose such a dangerous way to clear his name?”

The Vault was about to speak when she saw, in the rearview mirror, a car getting closer and closer, its front end veering aggressively as if determined to cut in. Her expression changed instantly and she shouted, “In front, in front! Don’t look at me!”

Julian Grant was startled by her sudden high-pitched yell, muttered a curse at the other driver, and quickly slowed down to let the car pass. He thought to himself, isn’t her voice pretty loud after all?

The Vault was almost scared into a cold sweat, her brows drooping, feeling deeply exhausted.

“My driving skills are great, and I’m only going 40 km/h. At worst, we’ll just dent a bumper, nothing to be afraid of.”

Julian Grant tried hard to prove himself, but The Vault didn’t believe him. He could only say, “Go on.”

The Vault was confused: “Go on about what? As long as Harold Thornton wasn’t out of his mind, your hypothesis doesn’t hold.”

Julian Grant had a vague feeling that The Vault was implying something about him.

He pouted, frowned, and scowled, glancing back repeatedly, making The Vault call out in fear.

She quickly added, “It means there must be some other reason that made Harold Thornton think of suicide. It’s just that at that moment, Charles Linton happened to be hovering around him like a fly, snapping his last thread of sanity. He was afraid that after his death, Charles Linton would keep harassing his wife and daughter, so he decided to drag Charles Linton down with him. Don’t forget, it was through someone else that we got involved with Harold Thornton.”

Julian Grant finally remembered the person he’d almost forgotten: “Meredith Stone?”

Yes, she was the key figure. The witness in the Harry Forrest case, the patient who accused Harold Thornton of sexual assault and was already pregnant.

No matter what the real relationship between Harold Thornton and Meredith Stone was, the fact remains that he had an affair during his marriage—after all, Meredith Stone was pregnant.

The Vault said, “The two of them kept a low profile in the hospital, so the doctors and nurses didn’t notice their relationship, nor did they know what kind of person Meredith Stone was.”

Julian Grant: “Charles Linton didn’t even know Meredith Stone’s name, so he probably didn’t know about this either.”

As the main character in the case, Meredith Stone’s presence was surprisingly faint.

The Vault said, “If Meredith Stone was really sexually assaulted, or if she wanted to use a honey trap to extort money, she should have made an even bigger scene at the hospital than Charles Linton. But why, when the medical staff recall things, is most of their attention focused on Charles Linton? It’s as if Meredith Stone was acting overly low-key.”

It really did seem off.

Every time it came to this kind of emotional analysis, Julian Grant always got a headache.

He was about to use his years of singlehood to deduce something, when he heard a buzzing vibration from the next seat.

The Vault pulled out her phone, glanced at the caller ID, and answered.

“Quinn Foster.”

Wasn’t this the caring big brother? Free backup had arrived?

Julian Grant quietly rolled up the window and leaned over to eavesdrop.

Quinn Foster always spoke with a booming voice; even without speakerphone, Julian Grant could hear him loud and clear.

“I’m coming to visit you now, just giving you a heads up. Don’t go hopping around like a frog—wait for me to come check on you!”

The Vault said, “D University Affiliated Hospital.”

“Wait, what’s wrong with your voice?” Quinn Foster heard her raspy, duck-like tone and paused, then exploded indignantly, “Which quack did Julian Grant leave you with? What’s he doing, making you worse instead of better? And you still dare to run around—are you helping him with work? I’m telling you, does that guy surnamed He even have a conscience? That shameless man doesn’t care about you at all! Even a mule gets a bit of grass now and then—does Julian Grant keep all that money in the bank just to feed moths?”

The Vault: “So he doesn’t treat me like a mule?”

Quinn Foster snapped, “You really have no ambition!”

Having listened to himself being slandered the whole time, Julian Grant instantly classified Quinn Foster as a revolutionary enemy.

What do you call this kind of person? In ancient times, he’d be hung at the city gate. Just a little jealousy, can’t stand to see others happy, always sabotaging other people’s relationships—truly despicable.

He should be glad no one heard him, or that quack would have him in a headlock in no time.

Julian Grant deliberately said loudly, “Don’t waste your breath on him, just focus on getting your voice better.”

Quinn Foster erupted, “He’s eavesdropping on your call? He has no respect for you at all! He just wants your clever little brain!”

The Vault thought, how come these two are so lively together? Weren’t they always polite before? Male friendship really does fall apart in an instant.

She made a gesture, signaling Julian Grant to stay quiet for now, then unilaterally declared Quinn Foster the winner: “He’s so mad he left.”

Quinn Foster said, “Just stay put at D University Hospital, I’ll be right there! The ENT specialists at D Hospital are reliable, I know them all. Listen to their advice from now on, don’t go wandering around with Julian Grant.”

Julian Grant was so angry he was grinding his teeth, wishing he could jump out and argue with him right now.

The Vault mumbled, “We’ll wait for you to have dinner together.”

“All right, wait for me.” Quinn Foster was very satisfied. “Now you know who’s on your side, right? So don’t let yourself get led astray so easily.”

The Vault hung up, then picked up her water and took a small sip.

Julian Grant turned his head, watching her tilt her neck back, the curve of her profile gently rising and falling, the tightly wrapped bandage making it look especially fragile. His tone softened a bit, but he was still a little upset: “Going to D University Hospital?” He was currently driving toward his own private hospital.

The Vault said, “Of course I’m going to the place that can save my life first.”

Julian Grant: “Then Quinn Foster...”

The Vault showed her ruthless side: “Let him run errands for me. I don’t want to move anymore.”

So this is... the ups and downs of mood.

Julian Grant curled his lips, unable to hide his smugness.

Now that’s what you call your own person.

Chapter 93: Luxury

The two of them returned to the hospital to have the doctor treat her injuries. When the doctor found out that The Vault had inhaled quite a bit of secondhand smoke while out, he glared angrily at Julian Grant and scolded him twice before going out to prescribe her medicine.

Julian Grant didn’t know why, but ever since he met The Vault, he’d been blamed for all sorts of things he didn’t do.

He didn’t even feel like clearing his name anymore, just sat to the side ordering takeout on his phone.

The Vault said, “Make it fancy, since it’s meant as an apology.” Quinn Foster’s little temper wasn’t easy to appease.

Julian Grant let out a cold laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll double the nine dishes and one soup for him—absolutely luxurious.”