“We pieced together the case using information from various channels. Your mother…” Quinn Foster raised his eyebrows at Rachel Thornton, giving her a knowing look.

Rachel Thornton asked in confusion, “What are you trying to say?”

Quinn Foster smiled and said, “Although Meredith Stone and Harold Thornton are both already dead, information and clues don’t necessarily disappear just like that. Trident has always advocated for uncovering the truth, and once we start inserting a scenario, we like to get to the bottom of things. There are many things that the law cannot bring justice to, but fairness lives in people’s hearts.”

Rachel Thornton: “No, what are you talking about? What do you mean?”

Quinn Foster looked at her: “We’re saying that your father’s death was a traffic accident, but it might not have been a simple accident.”

Mrs. Thornton stepped forward on one foot and gave Julian Grant a hard shove. The beautiful lady’s face was full of anger, her former elegance completely gone.

“Nonsense, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you keep stirring up trouble in front of my daughter, I’m telling you, I’ll sue you for defamation! And stop your investigation immediately—you don’t even have the qualifications! Trident? A bunch of con artists, get out!”

She pushed Rachel Thornton and said, “Get inside!”

The door slammed shut in front of the two of them, the impact so heavy that even the floor seemed to tremble.

The Vault pressed his earpiece and said, “That’s enough, come back for now.”

The two immediately turned and left, each getting into their own car and driving away one after the other.

Julian Grant and Quinn Foster took the video footage and hurried back to the hospital.

At the door of Rachel Thornton’s house, the two had managed to keep up the stiff, service-industry smile. But after a bumpy drive, their frustration only grew heavier, and by the time they were ready to report back to The Vault, they were full of complaints.

Quinn Foster felt he had made a huge sacrifice for The Vault—he’d endured so much scolding without talking back, worked for free, and didn’t even get paid. That went against his principles.

Julian Grant’s thoughts were more practical. Who was he? He was a super-rich second generation who, for some reason, insisted on working on grassroots projects. He could easily pay people to kneel and call him “dad,” but now he had to grit his teeth and deliver himself to be scolded. What was he getting out of this? Was it… just for a pretty face? Or was he really after her clever little brain?

So when the two of them walked into the hospital room, neither looked happy—they resembled debt collectors coming to demand payment.

The Vault: So… stingy. It was just running an errand.

Quinn Foster expertly tossed his jacket aside, put his hands on his hips, and paced in front of her, saying, “The Vault, don’t tell me you made me work for nothing all this time, and in the end, we still didn’t find any evidence to pin her down. If that’s the case, I’m charging you by the second, no mercy!”

The Vault made a calming gesture.

“Now she already knows about Trident’s investigation progress. With Trident’s influence in society, if our suspicions are correct, she’ll definitely be scared. Let’s see how she reacts.”

Quinn Foster laughed, “Does she need to do anything? We don’t have any evidence right now. A scenario based on pure speculation would never get approved. Trident can only burn through their budget and do nothing. What is she afraid of?”

He stroked his chin, clicked his tongue as if he’d realized something, and asked, “I get the feeling you two are setting her up, waiting for her to make a mistake. Are you hiding some clues from me?”

Julian Grant vaguely replied, “Confidential information. Criminal case.”

Quinn Foster had always been obedient about things he shouldn’t know: “Then I’m not interested.”

The Vault: “If we had someone follow her at a time like this, or tapped her phone and social media, maybe we’d get something unexpected.”

Julian Grant said coolly, “That’s illegal.”

The Vault said regretfully, “I was just imagining.”

Julian Grant tapped her forehead with a finger: “Why are you thinking about dangerous things!”

As he withdrew his hand, he remembered that The Vault’s head was off-limits. His hand froze in midair, nervous that The Vault would stand up and fight him the next second.

But The Vault just tilted her head and continued eating her fruit platter, showing no sign of anger.

A string in Julian Grant’s mind snapped, and a strange thought popped up.

…So this is the power of running errands.

Pah! What’s wrong with his brain?

The Vault looked up at him in confusion: “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Julian Grant coughed and turned away: “It’s nothing.”

The Vault said, “Tell Captain Harris and see if she wants to send someone to follow up. I think there might be something off about this Mrs. Thornton.”

Julian Grant agreed, sat down across from her, and took out his phone to compose a message.

·

On the first floor of the Trident building, a woman in sunglasses strode in briskly. The sharp heels of her shoes clicked crisply and rhythmically on the stone floor of the lobby as she headed straight for the front desk, slamming her bag down on the counter.

Half a meter behind her, two men carrying video cameras followed closely, adjusting their angles to focus on the reception staff.

The two receptionists on duty immediately put down their work and greeted her with professional smiles.

“I want to file a complaint against your staff!” Mrs. Thornton took off her sunglasses and slapped them on the counter. The ring on her finger knocked against the surface with a dull thud as she raised her hand.

“We’re very sorry for the inconvenience,” the receptionist said with a smile. “May I ask which department you’d like to complain about?”

“The studio responsible for [Live Crime Scene Broadcast].” Mrs. Thornton was so angry that the skin on her neck was flushed. She raised her chin and said, “My husband has been dead for over ten years, and my daughter is only twenty. Today, two of your adult male staff came to my house, saying they wanted to create a special scenario and asked us to cooperate. What, doesn’t your company care about privacy rights? What gives them the right to investigate my private information? Did I give permission? Is this how your big company operates?”

The receptionist was a bit intimidated by her aggressive tone, but still smiled and said, “That studio is rather special, and the management rules are very strict. Normally, staff would get approval and instructions before taking action. May I ask which two people came to see you?”

Mrs. Thornton pulled a photo from a compartment in her handbag and slapped it on the counter.

The receptionist nodded and picked up the photo to look at it.

The photo was taken from surveillance footage, so only half of the two people’s faces were visible from above. But it was enough for her to recognize them. Her colleague’s eyes widened when she recognized the main characters.

“You…” the receptionist said with difficulty, “You really want to file a complaint against him?”

Mrs. Thornton said dangerously, “What? I can’t?”

“No, no,” the receptionist shook her head. “It’s just… the process might be a bit complicated. We might need to involve our chairman.”

Mrs. Thornton immediately snapped, “Don’t try to fool me! What kind of trivial matter needs your chairman? Is Trident’s chairman so great?”

The receptionist thought to herself, their chairman actually was pretty impressive.

Author’s note:

The reason it’s called Trident is because it’s the abbreviation for 111, Trident, haha.

Why is the company called 111? Because it sounds nice. [Serious face]

Chapter 97 Investigation

The two receptionists still wore their standard smiles and said, “Since you have surveillance photos, do you also have other evidence? Please submit it here so we can verify. Is that okay?”

Mrs. Thornton’s expression was dark as she took out a USB drive and tossed it over.

“As the family of the deceased, I demand you stop the investigation immediately! My husband has been dead for over ten years, and I don’t want you exploiting him anymore!”

The receptionist took a deep breath and said, “Please rest assured, we can pass on your request.”

Mrs. Thornton pressed her hand on the counter, clearly dissatisfied with their attitude: “Are you trying to shirk responsibility? Has Trident decided to bully customers just because you’re a big company?”

The receptionist looked up in confusion: “Ma’am, we’ve already accepted your complaint. It’s been sent to the person in charge’s email. But we need to further verify the situation before we can give you a result. I don’t have the authority to handle this.”

Mrs. Thornton ordered loudly, “This matter is perfectly clear—what else do you need to verify? Verify whether I’m my husband’s wife? As a family member, I do not consent! You must cancel this scenario!”

Her momentum only grew, giving the other party no chance to dodge: “Haven’t you done enough of this sensationalist stuff? Have you ever thought about how it feels for the victim’s family to see their loved one appear in a game, being exploited? No matter how many years have passed, you still make people relive that pain? Has Trident lost all conscience just for the sake of hype?”