"List."
Julian Grant spoke concisely, placing the slip with the total amount on top and handing it over.
Rachel Thornton hadn’t thought much of it at first, but once she had the paper in her hand and scanned the numbers, the veins on her forehead immediately began to throb.
Julian Grant said coldly, "Top-tier medical resources are very expensive, especially life-saving ones. For Sean Hall's surgery just now, the equipment, instruments, and medication used were all the best, and you signed off on it yourself. She’ll also need to stay in the ICU for observation, and there’s rehabilitation after the operation. Do you know how much the ICU costs per day?"
Rachel Thornton stared fixedly at the bill in front of her, flipping through page after page. The color drained from her face, and in no time she was pale.
Julian Grant waited quietly, watching her fingers start to tremble. It took her a full minute or two before she weakly uttered, "I know."
Julian Grant asked bluntly, "Then do you have the money?"
Rachel Thornton's family did have some savings, but all the money was kept by Sean Hall. Sean Hall was very strict about family finances—she would give her child enough for living expenses, but never let her squander it.
But now Sean Hall was lying in the hospital room, and Rachel Thornton had no idea where the money was hidden. How was she supposed to come up with hundreds of thousands on short notice?
Rachel Thornton said helplessly, "We have insurance..."
Julian Grant cut her off mercilessly: "What insurance? Health insurance or auto insurance? The traffic accident was ruled your fault, so regular health insurance doesn’t cover it. And auto insurance has a payout limit, with specific coverage and items. Any medical expenses outside the contract won’t be reimbursed. I don’t know how much your mom insured, or at what level, but I have to remind you: the imported drugs and equipment used in this surgery are mostly not covered by insurance. Besides that, you’ll also have to pay for other property damages. Your mother’s crash caused quite a bit of damage—not only did she scrape two cars, but she also knocked over the surrounding guardrails and walls. Are you sure your family’s insurance is enough?"
Of course, Rachel Thornton didn’t know. How could she know about these trivial matters? Her world had always been arranged for her; she never realized a car accident could cause such a huge financial loss.
Rachel Thornton's hands dropped, her thumbnail digging into her other fingers, unable to say a word.
Seeing her like this, Julian Grant almost felt sorry for her, but still laid out the harsh reality.
"Besides, claiming insurance takes time. Are you sure your mother can wait?"
"Then what do you think I should do?" Rachel Thornton asked, eyes red, taking a deep breath and pleading, "Can you lend me some money first? I’ll pay you back as soon as my mom wakes up, really, we do have savings at home. Don’t you work at Trident? Can’t you help me?"
"Of course I have money," Julian Grant replied, but his expression was cold. He countered, "But why should I lend it to you for nothing? You know how hard it is to borrow money these days, right?"
At that moment, disappointment, despair, and a host of bitter emotions flashed in Rachel Thornton's eyes. She thought about borrowing from her mother’s colleagues, or from a few not-so-close elders, but she probably wouldn’t be able to get that much, and there would be even more medical expenses to come.
She looked deeply at Julian Grant, and, with no other option, bent her knees to kneel before him. But a pair of hands caught her just in time and pulled her up.
"Your dignity isn’t worth anything," Julian Grant said bluntly. "Take us to your home and accept a full investigation. You know what I mean."
Chapter 103: Notes
Henry Harris put on gloves and stood at the junction of the living room and study, choosing a spot with a good view to roughly survey the layout of the house.
The technical investigators, equipped with their own gear, were meticulously searching and collecting evidence at various locations. The work rhythm was very familiar, yet something about the atmosphere felt off.
Henry Harris turned and glanced at the living room.
Rachel Thornton was sunk deep into the sofa, silent and expressionless, like a puppet whose strings had been cut—lifeless.
She turned her head again, peeking into the study.
The Vault stood in front of the bookshelf by the wall, examining the titles on the spines to determine the books’ purposes.
Perhaps her gaze was too intense, because The Vault looked back at her with a puzzled expression.
Henry Harris quietly praised, "Nice work." They’d managed to persuade Rachel Thornton so quickly, and once again brought the junior officers along for some justified overtime.
The Vault didn’t dare take credit, since she wasn’t the one paying the medical bills. She quickly explained, "It was all thanks to Quincy."
Julian Grant said modestly, "Not at all, it was mainly about appealing to emotion and reason."
The Vault silently corrected him: it was appealing to money and reason. An irresistible temptation.
The new master of diplomacy, Henry Harris, said, "You all did well. It was a big help."
Henry Harris noticed that The Vault was just standing and looking, not actually searching, so he approached and asked, "What are you looking for?"
The Vault replied poetically, "Love."
Julian Grant slung an arm over her shoulder and started leading her toward the balcony, saying, "Why the sigh? If you’re tired, go get some sun outside."
The Vault grabbed the doorframe and said helplessly, "I mean feelings. Things that can prove Sean Hall's emotional history—love letters, poems, diaries, notes, photos, or anything else that can serve as evidence. I want to know what kind of feelings Sean Hall had for Harold Thornton. Whether she had another lover. If her heart belonged to someone else, who was it, and did that person suddenly disappear?"
Trying to find someone who vanished without a trace—it seemed a bit much to ask.
The Vault pulled Julian Grant's hand away and asked, "Understand?"
Henry Harris exchanged a look with Julian Grant, thinking he more or less understood, and then, based on his own interpretation, went off to search the other rooms.
Judging by the fact that Sean Hall would recite poetry to Rachel Thornton, she must have had passionate feelings for someone. And since she never denied to Rachel Thornton that the person was Harold Thornton, it showed that deep down she also thought such behavior was shameful.
Generally speaking, if Sean Hall really had an affair—or at least an emotional one—she would have hidden the evidence in a private place to avoid arousing Rachel Thornton's suspicion. If not, and the person who sent her flowers and wrote her poems was her beloved husband, there’d be no need to hide anything.
The Vault searched the study, while Julian Grant went to Sean Hall's bedroom.
Julian Grant opened the bottom drawer of the bedroom wardrobe and checked through it one by one. Besides some rarely used toolboxes, bags, and spare clothes and socks, he unsurprisingly found a drawer full of women’s underwear.
Without changing expression, Julian Grant was about to close the drawer, but on closer inspection, he noticed something seemed to be stuffed under the underwear, making the pile unusually high.
Julian Grant looked around to make sure no one was watching, then bent down and moved the neatly arranged underwear aside to see what was underneath.
A soft, white layer—a rarely used old towel, probably for moisture protection.
Julian Grant pressed it with his finger and sensed something odd, so he moved the towel aside again and found two document folders underneath.
Julian Grant opened the folders and checked all the contents.
Inside were some bank cards, property deeds, and several important ownership documents.
Julian Grant recalled how meticulous The Vault had been when gathering information earlier, not even missing a scrap of draft paper, and worried that Sean Hall might have the same habit. He didn’t overlook even a few stapled receipts.
Now, he finally knew what Sean Hall's stock account was, and what she’d invested her money in. It seemed Rachel Thornton wouldn’t be able to access that much liquid cash anytime soon.
Actually, Sean Hall's home had a small safe in the study, but she’d hidden her most important items here—a rather clever idea. Without a thorough or obsessive search, it would be hard to find.
Just as this thought flashed through Julian Grant's mind, he realized something was off and spat angrily to the side.
What’s wrong with me, going in circles just to insult myself.
Julian Grant carefully put the underwear back in place, then stood up, ready to leave. As soon as he turned around, he saw The Vault leaning against the doorway with a meaningful look, who knows how long she’d been watching.
Julian Grant froze, the breath he hadn’t finished exhaling stuck in his chest, nearly making his soul leave his body. He hurried to explain, "Don’t get the wrong idea!"
The Vault blinked and said considerately, "I’m not misunderstanding anything."
Julian Grant almost wanted to bang his head against the wardrobe door. His anxious explanation only made him look more guilty: "I really don’t have any weird fetishes, I just thought there was something underneath! Can you not look at me like that? Would I really do that?"
The Vault replied sincerely, "Of course not."