穹苍 paused for a moment, but continued mercilessly, “Because she was immature at the time, she indirectly caused the death of Harold Thornton. Later, again due to her immaturity, she framed an innocent person. As a result, three out of four members of Harry Forrest’s family died. With so many lives on her conscience, she still felt justified in being a good mother. Over a decade later, her immature son once again hid evidence, wanting Harry Forrest to take the blame for his mother. All of this is because of the immaturity of that mother and son. So what, does the whole world owe them? Are we supposed to willingly make sacrifices for them? You’re his uncle, and all you do is ask us to understand him, but you never teach him the most basic sense of morality. What kind of person do you want him to become?”

The man nervously glanced at the doorway and snapped through gritted teeth, “I told you to stop talking!”

The Vault let out a cold laugh. “This whole thing was wrong from the start, and now you want to use one mistake to create another? William Thornton is already thirteen years old. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what consequences it will bring—he just doesn’t yet understand the kind of harm those consequences can cause. You should tell him, not avoid it. Avoidance isn’t protection; you’re trampling on his understanding of society.”

The man, humiliated and angry, shouted at The Vault, “Which police station are you from, anyway? Show me your credentials! My nephew is a minor, do you understand what that means? You can’t treat him like this!”

The Vault ignored him, brushed his hand aside, and went straight to the door. But instead of returning to the living room, she quickly headed to the room where William Thornton was staying.

William Thornton saw her, stood up, and ran over to try to block her. The man behind them, now flustered, hurried to catch up.

But both of them were a step too slow—the door slammed shut in front of them and was locked from the inside.

“Open the door! What are you trying to do?!”

The man grabbed the doorknob, pressing it up and down, pounding on the door, but it was useless. Frustrated, he grabbed the nearby Julian Grant and demanded, “What’s going on here? Breaking into a private residence is a crime, you know that? Even if you’re police, it’s not allowed! Get her out here, now!”

Julian Grant quickly agreed, “Okay, okay, okay,” squeezed the man aside to take his place at the door, then knocked—not too hard, not too soft—and called out, “The Vault, come out, quick! They’re going to sue you, you know this is illegal, right? What… what law are you breaking again?”

The man realized the three of them were in cahoots, and his anger turned to disbelief. “What are you people doing? Open the door! Are you even police? This is lawlessness!”

“Sorry, she’s not a police officer, she’s our consultant. And this person isn’t police either, he works for Trident. When you opened the door, we didn’t have time to explain.” Henry Harris calmly took out her credentials and showed them to the man. “But I am. If you want to find me, that’s easy. If you want to find my superior, that might not be so easy. The old chief is always in meetings and arranging work all over the place. He doesn’t handle non-criminal cases.”

The man glanced at the credentials and saw that her position was quite high, which only made him angrier, feeling oppressed by authority.

However, Henry Harris’s friendly demeanor was nothing like “violent law enforcement.” She gently pulled the man aside and reassured him, “But don’t worry, she’s with me, and I’ll take responsibility.”

She put away her credentials and took out her phone from her pocket.

The man, seeing this, believed her and thought she was calling for backup.

Henry Harris scrolled through her phone for a while, then walked to the door and said solemnly, “The Vault, you must abide by the law. Our public security bureau has strict procedures, all clearly stipulated by the Ministry of Public Security. But since you’re not one of us, let me read you the criminal law, and you can consider it yourself.”

“Oh, and one more thing—illegally obtained evidence won’t be accepted by the court. Stealing, robbing, forging, defrauding—none of that is allowed… What exactly are you doing in there? Did you hear me?”

William Thornton, seeing them making a mess of things, grew agitated and kicked the door through a gap, shouting frantically, “Come out! Don’t touch my stuff! Come out now!”

The next second, the door really did open from the inside. The Vault stood at the doorway, her face frosted over.

Everyone’s shouting stopped abruptly as they stared at her.

The Vault raised her hand, and in it was a notebook. William Thornton angrily rushed forward, snatched it, and hugged it to his chest.

“‘To my dearest mom’,” The Vault breathed softly. “‘I locked the gift Dad gave you in the little birthday box. That way, I’ll know you’ll both still be with me.’ Unfortunately, I’m sorry, but that’s not the token of love your dad gave your mom. I know you didn’t lose it. Take it out.”

William Thornton’s face was bloodless, and he bit his lip hard.

The Vault paused for a moment, then made a suggestion: “How about this—if you take it out, I’ll tell you who killed your mother.”

William Thornton looked up sharply, suspicious.

“Don’t look at me like that. I really do know. I’ve even met the killer,” The Vault said, lips curling in a tempting smile. “Do you want to keep hiding this, or do you want to find out who killed both your father and mother? You choose. Which is more important to you?”

Henry Harris called out disapprovingly, “The Vault.”

The Vault replied firmly, “The police can’t catch her. If you want to know, this is your only chance.”

William Thornton took a deep breath, torn by inner conflict, but in the end, he couldn’t resist the condition in The Vault’s words. He asked tentatively, “Really?”

“Really.” The Vault held out her hand. “Where is it? It has to be something you’re willing to hand over to the police yourself.”

The man pressed down on William Thornton’s shoulder and muttered, “How can you people do this?”

William Thornton gave The Vault a long look, made up his mind, squeezed past the others, and went into the room. He pulled out a blue-coated metal box from under the bed.

He carefully lifted the lid, took out a pen, held it in his hand with a complicated expression, stroked it one last time, and then resolutely handed it over.

Henry Harris, not caring whether The Vault’s negotiation tactics were appropriate, put on gloves and took the item.

“What is this?”

It was pink, a little wider than a finger. Because of its age, the decorative plastic ring around it had cracked, and the metal casing was starting to rust. She twisted it and saw some electronic components through a gap.

“It’s a voice recorder!” Henry Harris was shocked, and at the same time saw the initials of the deceased’s name on the pen.

She hurriedly put it in a bag and instructed Julian Grant, “I’ll take this to extract the audio right away. Julian Grant, keep an eye on The Vault!”

Julian Grant exclaimed in surprise, “You think I can keep her in check?! Are you kidding me?”

Henry Harris was already running to the stairwell, shouting, “Anyway, we never leaked any information to her from inside the police!”

William Thornton, thinking they were going back on their word, grabbed The Vault’s sleeve and shrieked, “You said you’d tell me!”

“I will, I’ll tell you.” The Vault lowered her head and pried his fingers off one by one. “Stand still. I hope you can be mature enough to handle it.”

William Thornton took a step back, stubborn as a little calf. “Say it!”

The Vault was silent for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her voice was unusually calm.

“Andrew Forrest, Harry Forrest’s younger sister. Because her brother went to prison, she was abused and beaten by her husband for years. In the end, she couldn’t take it anymore and committed suicide. After she died, her mother also committed suicide. Harry Forrest escaped police surveillance and became a fugitive.”

William Thornton was clearly stunned, his face ashen, unable to process such complex information.

The man didn’t know what to do. He covered William Thornton’s ears with his big hands, pulled him into his arms, and scolded, “You shouldn’t have told him!”

The Vault asked, “Just because you don’t ask about something doesn’t mean it disappears. It just means you don’t know who is suffering from pain that doesn’t belong to them. If I don’t tell him, do you think he won’t understand? That he can stay innocent and happy? No, he’ll spend his whole life hating the person who killed his mother. Hating the police for being incompetent, hating society for being heartless. Is that kind of lie really kindness?”

The Vault lowered her head and said to William Thornton, “Of course, you can still choose to hate now. But at the very least, you should know where this mistake began. Don’t say things like ‘the past is the past’ and ‘there’s no point in seeking the truth.’ Being excessively selfish is terrifying. What do you think we’re doing? What we’re pursuing is how to bring an end to all this.”

No one knows where it all began, but it has already spread into multiple tragedies and turning points. Without the truth, none of the wronged souls will rest, and none of the victims will stop suffering.

Only by recognizing and facing this cruelty with absolute clarity can it ever come to an end.

The Vault straightened her collar. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll be leaving now.”

Julian Grant felt as if he’d been granted amnesty.

He even wanted to set off fireworks.

Chapter 117: Admission