A few people numbly obeyed, getting up in a daze and, under the guidance of the police officers, walked out the main door of the room.

The living room quieted down again, and soon only Henry Harris and The Vault were left.

Henry Harris paced over to her, quietly looking at her.

The Vault's voice was very soft, almost inaudible: "Waiting for the truth—does that mean society's recognition?"

Henry Harris thought seriously for a moment and said, "No, I think it means holding on to oneself."

The pursuit of society's recognition never has a correct path, because the people who speak the loudest in society are always changing; drifting along with them will eventually lead to losing one's direction and sense of self.

The Vault smiled and said, "Right. Harry Forrest is a very strong person."

That was probably Logan Carter's blessing for him, so he could firmly chase his own future.

The Vault lowered her head to unbutton her coat, tugged the collar down a bit, and said with a smile, "I'm going to the hospital to get the flowers. I hope that bouquet can be a little stronger too."

Henry Harris put his arm around her and walked her out: "Let's eat first, it's already noon. I'll take you there later."

Chapter 109: Raid

The Vault's hopes were ultimately dashed. When she arrived at the hospital room that had already been tidied up, all she saw was the empty windowsill—there was no sign of the white roses that had struggled against fate.

"Ah, that bouquet?" The cleaning lady said awkwardly, "Since you all had left, and the flowers were a bit wilted, I thought you didn't want them anymore, so I threw them out."

The Vault felt as if thunder had struck above her head.

It's over, Brother Grant's girlish heart...

Gone.

Seeing her stern expression, the cleaning lady grew nervous too, her voice trailing off: "What should I do? I threw them out this morning. They said you weren't staying in the hospital anymore, so I cleaned them up."

"It's fine." The Vault waved her hand, "Forget it, it's okay, you can go back to work."

The cleaning lady was still uneasy, since this was someone from her boss's family. She kept looking back as she left, only relaxing when she saw The Vault wasn't going to pursue the matter.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

The Vault muttered, shuffling her feet as she headed to the flower shop outside the hospital.

She had originally wanted to recreate a similar bouquet to cover things up, but was afraid Julian Grant would recognize it and add to her "crimes." After a struggle between her conscience and the risks, she finally decided to buy the most expensive, best, and largest bouquet, wrap it up, and take it home.

Henry Harris was very busy; after dropping her off at the hospital, he left. The Vault had to carry the ostentatiously wrapped bouquet of roses home by herself.

To prevent the flowers from getting damaged during transport, The Vault specially bought a big bag for them, which also highlighted their value and her own carefulness. After making all the preparations, The Vault finally felt at ease.

An hour later, The Vault showed up at Julian Grant's door with the big bag, bending over to unlock the code lock. As soon as she opened the door, Julian Grant happened to come out of the hallway and ran into her.

Julian Grant glanced at the luggage bag in her hand, then at the half-open door, and moved to block the stairway, angrily saying, "What's going on! I say a couple of words and you run away from home, is that it?"

The Vault opened the door a bit wider: "...I just got back from outside."

"Oh." Julian Grant's expression changed as quickly as a sudden rainstorm turning to sunshine, instantly returning to calm. He pointed inside and said, "Come in."

The Vault stepped inside, and Julian Grant followed. She had just finished taking off her shoes at the entryway when she turned around and saw Julian Grant efficiently locking the door behind them.

The Vault: "..." Was that really necessary?

Why did it feel so much like a crime scene?

Julian Grant asked dryly, "Where did you go today?"

As soon as he said it, he realized how stiff his question sounded, like he was picking a fight. Worried that The Vault would really turn around and leave, he grunted, "Forget it, if you don't want to say, then don't."

The Vault: "..." Sir, I never said I wouldn't cooperate.

She took the initiative to explain: "I just went to see Captain Harris."

Julian Grant: "Oh."

When a man says "oh," it means the matter isn't over. —by The Vault's guide to interpreting straight men

The Vault exaggeratedly praised, "Seeing you working so hard inspired me! To learn from you, I went to see Captain Harris and did something productive!"

Julian Grant's face darkened quickly at her words. He silently took off his coat and hung it on the rack.

Was she implying something? Was she? He only took leave occasionally, right? How could he be so unprofessional?

The Vault also realized that, compared to giving compliments, she seemed better suited to sarcasm and dry humor.

It was really inappropriate.

The Vault coughed, quickly handed over the bag, and tried to make up for it: "I got you a gift."

"A bag for me?" Julian Grant frowned in confusion, then said, "Do you really think a bag can cure all ills?"

The Vault: ...?

Julian Grant's way of focusing on the key point was always so novel and layered. He didn't give The Vault a chance to explain, his expression changed again, turning gloomy as he questioned, "You think I'm sick?"

The Vault: ...huh??

The Vault fell into yet another bout of silence for the day. For the first time, she wished she had another brain to analyze Julian Grant's behavior patterns; otherwise, she wouldn't feel like an idiot around everyone.

But fortunately, Julian Grant's "illness" was never serious and could heal itself. His temper came and went as quickly as the wind. The next second, his body honestly hugged the off-brand bag and walked to the living room.

The Vault couldn't help but remind him, "The main thing is the flowers inside."

Julian Grant paused, put the bag on the coffee table, unzipped it, and pulled out a well-preserved bouquet of white roses.

The Vault emphasized every important word: "Today, I specifically went to the hospital to get the flowers. But the cleaning lady had already thrown them out, so I bought a new bouquet. Do you like it?"

Julian Grant screamed internally.

What does it matter if he likes it or not! The flowers were originally for you!

How could things get so backwards?

How could someone come up with so many ways to annoy him?

Julian Grant raised his hand to his forehead. It felt like punching a waterlogged sponge—not only did he use the wrong force, but he also splashed himself in the face.

What a mess.

"This isn't about the flowers at all." Julian Grant didn't know whether to laugh or cry. After a struggle in his mind, he finally just waved his hand helplessly and said, "Forget it. It's fine, just leave it at that."

Earlier today, The Vault had used the same words to brush off the cleaning lady who had dashed her hopes, and now she unexpectedly received the same kind of forgiveness from Julian Grant.

She gave Julian Grant a sympathetic look and quietly went back to her room.

After all this, Julian Grant went to his study to work.

He hadn't done much real work at the company today and was almost threatened with a complaint by Susan Scott. At that time, his mind was full of odd thoughts, but he felt more relaxed after coming home.

He went through all the documents and plans he hadn't finished today, then diligently typed up his report.

By dinnertime, Julian Grant stretched and felt hungry. He forgot he was still mad at The Vault, and habitually called out, dragging out the last syllable: "The Vault, what do you want to eat!"

The Vault, who was quietly reading in the living room, was pleasantly surprised. She glanced at the time and saw that only four hours had passed; judging by his tone, Julian Grant was already fine.

She slowed her steps, tiptoed to the study door, and pushed it open.

Julian Grant looked back at her, his face full of confusion.

The Vault observed his expression and tentatively asked, "Did you have a good day at work?"

"Huh?" Julian Grant said, "What's there to be happy or unhappy about at work?" Was this girl stupid?

The Vault: "So you're not mad at me anymore?"

If she hadn't asked, it would have been fine, but as soon as she did, Julian Grant felt another pang in his chest. He sulked for a while, then finally said, "What's the point of being mad at you? You don't even know why I'm angry." His tone was full of exasperation.

The Vault soullessly echoed, "Right, right, don't get yourself worked up."

Julian Grant glared at her, then went back to ordering takeout.

Only then did The Vault boldly walk in and close the door behind her.

Julian Grant remembered something important, straightened up, and reminded her, "There's new testimony today—Captain Harris sent it to me. But this kind of secondhand evidence... if we don't find something more direct and compelling, we can't get our hopes up too much."

The Vault was mentally prepared and not that naive. She just asked curiously, "Are you guys working on Harry Forrest's case file?"