Julian Grant looked to The Vault in a negotiating tone, but The Vault was even quicker than him—she threw on her coat and said, “The injured will go out for some air, you two take your time to chat.”

She made her exit at lightning speed, just like Quinn Foster, leaving Julian Grant an encouraging look before closing the door.

Julian Grant: “??”

Is this how you treat friends above the standard line?

·

The Vault, still in her hospital gown, took a walk around the small garden downstairs.

She was just wandering aimlessly, but before long, a light drizzle began to fall from the sky.

The Vault estimated the time, thinking that by now, the two in the ward should be at the stage of hysterically facing reality, and it would take a while longer before they could move on to acceptance. She decided not to disturb them, giving them some space to vent their emotions.

So The Vault, in the light rain, went to the small shop at the hospital entrance to buy an umbrella.

She opened a black floral umbrella, held the handle between her neck and shoulder, and stood at the door, absentmindedly toweling her hair.

When the rain first started, it wasn’t heavy—just tiny white droplets settling on her head, making her hair soft and limp. But as soon as she entered the shop, the rain intensified, slanting through the eaves and hitting her body.

The Vault watched people dashing by on the street, then glanced down at her own pant legs. The cotton fabric was already stained with grayish mud, looking quite dirty...

“Qiong—Cang!”

The Vault was startled by the trembling shout that cut through the air. She looked up, caught off guard by a pair of anxious, unsettled eyes.

Julian Grant, dressed in his expensive suit, stood not far away, drenched. Seeing her standing there, he raised his hand and wiped his face hard.

He really was... Julian Grant gritted his teeth, not sure if it was from the cold or anger, his leg muscles trembling slightly.

He truly thought The Vault had gotten herself into trouble with some lunatic again—just a moment’s inattention, and she’d vanished from the little garden.

As he ran over, his mind was filled with flickering black-and-white images. He didn’t dare think too deeply, only regretted letting The Vault go out alone. His still-pounding heart made his blood vessels swell, bulging fiercely beneath his skin.

Only now did The Vault realize, reaching into her pocket, that the vibration of her phone had been drowned out by the rain, so she hadn’t heard Julian Grant’s calls.

“Ah...” The Vault said innocently, “Sorry.”

Julian Grant barked, “What are you doing! Don’t you know to come back when it’s raining?”

The Vault froze, gripped the umbrella, and murmured softly, “...Sorry.”

It was the first time Julian Grant had seen her look so at a loss, and his emotions gradually calmed. He walked closer, just as The Vault cautiously added, “I really didn’t notice... It won’t happen again.”

Her self-reflection was spot on. Julian Grant’s anger was completely stifled by her, and he was at a loss for what to do.

He took a deep breath before saying gravely, “Sean Hall was in a car accident.”

·

In the city center, the rain was pouring, washing over the streets. Faint traces of blood flowed from the car, spreading to the middle of the road, then being covered by gray-black muddy water.

A section of the roadside guardrail was smashed, a large hole broken in the wall beside it, the car’s front end deeply caved in and stuck in the opening, debris scattered all over the ground.

Henry Harris personally came to inspect the scene.

She stood motionless on the roadside under her umbrella, waiting for the traffic police to analyze and collect evidence. Only when The Vault arrived did she turn her face and nod at her.

Henry Harris’s cold voice sounded even sharper and more frigid in the rain: “She was taken to the hospital. She was still alive when rescued, but her injuries are very serious.”

The Vault’s figure was thin, her lips pale: “What about the driver at fault?”

“There was no other driver,” Henry Harris said seriously. “She ran a red light at high speed, tried to avoid an oncoming car, and crashed herself.”

The Vault glanced over the scene again and asked, “Did she contact anyone before the accident?”

Henry Harris: “No, only someone from her company’s HR called her. They saw the video online and called to ask Sean Hall what happened. The call wasn’t even over when the crash happened.”

The oversized hospital gown draped over The Vault made her look sickly. Her voice was faint: “How could this happen...”

Chapter 100 Update

When The Vault and the others arrived at the hospital, Sean Hall was being operated on in the emergency room.

Rachel Thornton sat dejectedly at the door, her legs trembling uncontrollably, her hands anxiously wiping sweat on her pants, muttering to herself. Hearing a jumble of footsteps approaching, she looked up. When she saw who it was, her empty eyes widened, and she staggered toward them.

“Why! How could this happen? What’s wrong with my mom!”

Halfway there, Rachel Thornton stumbled and fell to her knees, unable to get up.

The Vault bent down to help her, but she flailed her arms, clutching at her like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline, not even looking to see who it was.

“If only I hadn’t asked you to investigate... Who can give me my mom back? You must have made a mistake, it’s impossible...”

Rachel Thornton gasped several times, her sharp cries pouring out to them, tears streaming down her face like a flood.

“Ah... why? It’s all my fault. Did she kill herself because she was too disappointed in me? How could I...”

Her hoarse, low wails squeezed painfully from her throat.

The Vault crouched down, letting her sob on her shoulder. One hand pressed gently on her back, offering what little comfort she could.

As for words, in the vast yet impoverished human vocabulary, there seems to be no phrase that can truly comfort grief—at most, a simple “my condolences.”

The mournful, resentful cries echoed through the narrow hallway, mingling with the heavy air. The trembling voices were like a rough saw, cutting back and forth through everyone’s hearts, leaving behind a mess of splinters.

·

At the small balcony at the end of the hallway.

The Vault and Henry Harris stood side by side in the shifting light, watching the slanting rain sweep past, thick clouds blocking out the midday sun. They stood for a long time, gazes falling on the distant pale mountains, neither saying a word.

The chill from the rain seeped through their coats, piercing the skin. The Vault shifted, tucking her cold hands into her pockets, and asked softly, “Do you think it’s really possible for someone to so precisely control their own actions to choose suicide, or was it just that Sean Hall was under too much pressure and had an accident?”

Henry Harris replied in a low voice, “I don’t know.”

“If it was just an accident...” The Vault let out a cold, ironic laugh. “Then that’s quite the coincidence of fate.”

Sean Hall forced Harold Thornton to die in a car accident, and years later, she herself was seriously injured in a car crash, indirectly because of Harold Thornton.

If this were a novel, she would have perfectly fulfilled the dramatic echo of karmic retribution, and could exit the stage with peace of mind after completing her storyline.

But are there really so many coincidences? The Vault’s intuition still told her something was off.

“Her car...”

Henry Harris caught on and continued, “We’ll conduct a thorough inspection to see if there was any tampering. Sean Hall will also undergo toxicology tests to confirm whether she took any substances before driving that could have impaired her judgment.”

The Vault turned to face Henry Harris directly. The tense lines of her face made her already cold and proud demeanor even sharper. She pressed again, “There was really only one call on her phone?”

Henry Harris replied calmly, “We unlocked it with her fingerprint. After leaving Trident, she only received one call from her company. We’ve confirmed with the carrier—there’s no mistake.”

“What did the caller say?” The Vault pressed, “Every sentence, every word. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Because Sean Hall made a scene at Trident and it was posted online, it was already getting attention. The company was worried it would have a negative impact and damage their image, so they gave her a warning.” Henry Harris answered patiently, addressing every question in detail. “The call was recorded—I’ve listened to it. The employee’s tone was a bit stern, but nothing strange was said. He said everyone at the company already knew about the incident, and upper management wanted her to leave Trident as soon as possible and not post anything about Trident on public platforms. If netizens dug up her identity, she should be ready to apologize promptly. Sean Hall didn’t respond, and then there were several loud noises on the call—the crash happened. Judging from their tones, Sean Hall’s mental state wasn’t normal in those moments before the accident.”

The Vault said quietly, “...And before that?”

“She only sent a few texts to request leave.” Henry Harris said regretfully, “So far, we haven’t found anything suspicious.”

The Vault let out a heavy breath, feeling the clues break off right before her eyes.

Henry Harris patted her shoulder twice, ready to leave. She had just taken a step when The Vault’s clear voice rang out again.