Julian Grant hung up the phone, walked to his parking spot, and prepared to rush to Trident headquarters to oversee the situation. But just as he was closing the car door, a sudden thought flashed through his mind, making him feel it might not be appropriate.

Charles Linton had already run off with the reporters; even if he went over, it probably wouldn’t help. Trident didn’t have the authority to enforce the law across jurisdictions—could they really stop Charles Linton from talking?

…No hero’s stage to display his skills.

Without overthinking it, Julian Grant pulled up his contacts and reached out to Henry Harris, telling her about Charles Linton and asking her to prepare countermeasures in advance. If necessary, she could step out and issue a clarification.

On the other end, Henry Harris remained silent—neither agreeing nor refusing. The faint static from the speaker seemed to synchronize with her overworked brainwaves, shattering her brain cells collectively.

If you asked which team gets attacked the most, the hardest, and the widest online, there’s no doubt—it’s the police.

If something goes wrong, it’s grassroots security chaos; if there’s a search, it’s netizens enthusiastically urging them on; if a case is solved, it’s the public’s collective effort. If they mistakenly believe a rumor, it’s always “it’s happened before,” “it does exist,” “that’s reality,” “a friend of mine really experienced it,” and so on.

When it comes to public opinion and publicity, the police have never been very good at it.

If it were just about refuting rumors, that would be simple—the police still have credibility and can instantly turn the tide. But the truth is… the people involved in the case aren’t exactly innocent. The police don’t have solid evidence yet, and the situation is too complicated. How to write the announcement is a big problem.

Henry Harris pressed her throbbing temples and exhaled, “Alright, we’ll keep an eye on things here, but we’ll still need Trident’s PR team to help. Also, please help us find a reliable psychologist to stabilize Rachel Thornton’s condition. I’m worried the girl won’t be able to cope and might do something drastic. She’s a very important witness right now.”

Julian Grant said, “Don’t worry, we’ll make arrangements.”

Henry Harris: “Okay.”

Having successfully handed off the tricky matter, Julian Grant let out a big sigh of relief. He sent a text to Susan Scott asking him to dispatch personnel, and then prioritized his remaining tasks by urgency. In the end, he decided to return to his own hospital first to get a clean set of clothes for The Vault.

Their strongest external support—if he got sick again, they’d be out of luck.

·

The Vault sat beside Rachel Thornton, arms crossed over his chest, head resting against the wall, eyes closed in rest.

It had been nearly two hours since Sean Hall entered the operating room. During that time, several doctors from other departments had rushed over, entering the room one after another, but there was no news after that. Still, as long as they were fighting to save her, there was hope she might survive.

At first, Rachel Thornton paced anxiously at the door, kicking the floor with her toes in a self-punishing way. Later, the police officer on duty made her sit in a chair, but she didn’t last long before curling up in a corner.

Every so often, a phone would vibrate in someone’s pocket, popping up strange news on the home screen. They glanced at it but had no mood to read, just letting it be. After a while, it was impossible to tell whose phone was ringing.

Rachel Thornton knew she was too tense and should do something else to distract herself. Sitting on the floor, hugging one leg with one arm, she pulled out her phone and swiped it.

The lock screen was filled with notifications from news apps. She pressed her finger down and gently swiped up.

Several headlines were sensational and exaggerated. Though they didn’t name names, it was clear what they were referring to.

Rachel Thornton’s pupils trembled. She immediately got up from the floor, clutching her phone, and rushed to The Vault.

The Vault turned his head slightly, eyes half-closed, glancing at the screen.

#Insider reveals: Woman obstructs Trident investigation—this is the shocking reason.#

#Sexual assault + medical malpractice? Doctor fakes injury, but dies unexpectedly! The truth comes out after more than a decade!#

#Husband cheats, wife chooses this path. What do you think?#

#Trident reveals again! Another wrongful case buried for over ten years? How should conscience and interests be balanced?#

…

Mixed in with the news were chat messages from her classmates and advisor, tactfully asking what had happened. The school had even received interview requests from several media outlets, and outside the hospital, things were already in chaos.

“This one?”

Rachel Thornton didn’t need to open them to imagine how ugly the content inside must be.

Her already fragile emotions edged even closer to collapse, as if the whole world was mocking her, leaving her standing alone on the far side of humanity. And all of this—she had brought upon herself.

She didn’t even have the strength to laugh at her own foolishness. Her pale fingers jabbed at the screen as she spoke, her words rushed and weak: “Do you all believe this so-called insider’s revelation too? Is that why you think my mom killed my dad? Didn’t you say my dad was innocent? Then why won’t the police issue a statement to explain? Is this fun for you? Is this kind of thing fun for you?!”

Suddenly, Rachel Thornton exploded in a shout, then roared, “Again and again—my dad has already died once! He can’t rest in peace! And you still think it’s not enough! You want to drag him out of hell and flog his corpse, and throw in my mom too! Do you think you’re innocent just because you do nothing? Your indulgence is a knife! All of you are murderers! All of you!”

She swung her arm and hurled her phone at the floor.

The phone hit the ground with a deafening crash and skidded several meters away. The police officer flinched, then rushed over to restrain her, afraid she might hurt herself.

Rachel Thornton struggled violently, resisting with all her might.

“Calm down, Rachel Thornton!” the officer shouted, gripping her arms tightly. “We’re not ignoring you! I’m right here! This is a hospital—if you keep yelling, you’ll disturb the doctors inside! Your mom is still in surgery!”

Rachel Thornton froze, her strength draining away, her body and spirit drooping like a plant that had lost its support.

The Vault watched her calmly, seeing her go from hysteria to dejected sobbing. He let out a barely audible sigh, got up, and picked up the discarded phone.

The phone was fairly sturdy—the case had flown off, the transparent cover was shattered, but the screen still worked.

The Vault walked back with the phone. Under the officer’s shocked gaze, he forcibly pried open Rachel Thornton’s hand, tapped her face with the phone, and unlocked the screen.

The officer hesitated. “This… is this really okay?” He didn’t dare let go of her hand. What if the two of them started fighting right here?

The Vault tapped around on the phone for a while, then turned it around, grabbed Rachel Thornton’s chin, and forced her to look at the screen.

On the screen was a police statement with a blue background.

The statement objectively addressed each issue: The police had reopened the files from years ago, and after interviews, investigation, and review, confirmed that the allegations circulating online about Dr. Tian’s sexual assault and medical malpractice were all rumors.

According to the evidence collected by the police, there was no sign that Dr. Tian had cheated.

According to relevant laws and the Medical Accident Appraisal Committee, Dr. Tian was not involved in any medical malpractice.

After the surgery, C. Linton repeatedly demanded huge compensation. When the hospital refused, he stalked, harassed, and even assaulted Dr. Tian, and was fined administratively.

The traffic accident investigation found both parties equally responsible. C. Linton was speeding and failed to brake in time. Dr. Tian changed lanes illegally and wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. There is currently no clear evidence that the accident was intentionally caused by Dr. Tian.

We urge the public to respect the deceased and not spread rumors.

·

Rachel Thornton’s eyes darted back and forth over the image, her sobs slowing, then gradually fading away.

She sniffled, carefully took the phone with both hands, zoomed in on the image, and read the text.

Her vision was blurred with tears. It was just a few simple lines, but they made her pent-up grievances collapse like a flood, and she couldn’t stop crying.

She wiped her face hard, not knowing why she was crying so fiercely.

The Vault’s voice, though hoarse, was like water-soaked jade—always carrying a clear, cool undertone.

“Humans are irrational creatures. They often waste too much emotion because of their own pessimism.”

Rachel Thornton bit her lip, sobbing, not wanting to embarrass herself further in front of her.

“Why didn’t the police make a statement? First, because there really isn’t conclusive evidence—some things are still speculation. Second…” The Vault said slowly, “they wanted to keep the impact of the case as small as possible, hoping not to bring you too much negative emotion.”

Rachel Thornton looked up.

“Julian Grant might not have had time to tell you, so I will.” The Vault looked down at her. “According to the traffic camera footage at the intersection, Charles Linton was right about one thing: Dr. Tian was waiting at the intersection in advance, and only rushed out when he appeared. This accident really was an accident—an accident caused by Charles Linton speeding, the truck losing control during emergency braking, and that’s what led to your father’s death.”