The officer interrogating me was Harold Jones, the same middle-aged captain from before.

He slammed a stack of documents onto the table with a loud bang.

"Wendy Sloan, 28 years old. Owner of a tech company that's valued at a billion dollars. You were a top student and a young entrepreneur. So tell me, why did you try to rob a bank?"

I gazed up at him with an innocent expression and said, "I told you already—for the money."

"For the money?" Harold let out a frustrated laugh. "Are you short on cash? Your company is about to go public, and you're treating your future like a joke?"

"It's precisely because we're going public that I'm short on cash." I started babbling nonsense. "It isn't cheap to maintain our connections and polish the books. I had no other option."

Harold's gaze sharpened, as if trying to find a crack in my story. "Do you have any idea what the consequences of your actions will be?"

"I'm aware." I nodded, ticking off on my fingers. "Robbing an armored truck counts as robbing a financial institution. If the amount involved is considerably large, it makes the circumstances especially serious. The minimum sentence is ten years, and the maximum is the death penalty."

I said this lightly, as if reciting from a textbook.

Harold frowned deeply. He went silent for a moment before deciding to switch tactics. "What about your family? Do they know you're doing this?"

At the mention of my family, I felt my heart clench painfully.

However, I kept that indifferent smile plastered on my face. "Them? If they knew, they'd probably support me. After all, if I succeeded, we would be on top of the world."

"You're insane!" Harold spat out through gritted teeth.

Just then, the door to the interrogation room flung open.

My brother, Liam Sloan, stormed in and grabbed me by the shoulders. His eyes were red-rimmed as he yelled, "Wen! What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"

When I saw how anxious and heartbroken he looked, my heart felt like it was being stabbed. Still, I had to keep up the act.

I violently shook off his hand and screamed hysterically, "Don't touch me! You're all in on it! You all want to hurt me!"

I curled up in the chair, holding my head and trembling as I muttered words to myself.

"Ghosts… Ghosts are everywhere… They're coming for me… They want to steal my money…"

Liam was utterly stunned. He stared at me in disbelief as his lips quivered. "Wen… W-What's wrong with you?"

Harold and the other officer exchanged glances, for they hadn't expected this turn of events.

I secretly watched their reactions through the gaps in my fingers while also keeping track of time in my head.

It was now 10:45 am. Zachary and Yvette should be in the bank's VIP room by now, having tea with the branch manager.

I had to stall everyone here.

"I want to see my lawyer! No! I won't see anyone!" I kept screaming. "You're all bad people! You're all working together to lock me up and split my assets!"

When Liam rushed forward to hug me, I ended up biting his arm. He grunted in pain, but he still held onto me tightly.

His voice was choked with sobs as he said, "Wen, don't be scared. It's me, your brother. I'm here, and I'll take you home.

"No! That place is a prison!" I shoved him away hard, pointing at him and then at Harold. "All of you! You're in it together!"

The scene was a mess. It felt like I was acting in some kind of ridiculous play.

Finally, Harold had enough and signaled another officer to escort Liam out. The interrogation room door closed, cutting off Liam's anguished cries.

I collapsed into the chair, gasping for air. My tears streamed down despite myself.

"I'm sorry, Liam. Just hold on a little longer," I thought. Soon, all of this would be over.

As time ticked by, I kept playing my part as a mentally unstable lunatic.

I would be crying one moment, and laughing hysterically in the next. Sometimes, I pointed at the air and cursed.

Harold and his team tried everything, but nothing could snap me out of it.

Finally, they had no choice but to call a psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist conducted a series of simple questions and tests on me, and I used everything I had seen from real psychiatric patients in my past life in prison to fool him completely.

His preliminary diagnosis was suspected acute stress disorder, with severe delusions and paranoia. He then recommended my immediate transfer to a specialized hospital for further diagnosis and treatment.

Harold looked at the diagnosis report in his hand with a grim expression.

If I were certified as mentally ill, then any actions I took would be under limited capacity and wouldn't be criminally punishable. This bank robbery case might end up going nowhere in the end.

Harold looked at me. His gaze was full of suspicion. How could such a cut-throat businesswoman suddenly go crazy? It just didn't add up.

I could feel his scrutinizing stare, but I didn't care. I just kept my head down, fiddling with my fingers as I hummed a nursery rhyme out of tune.

The clock on the wall pointed to 11:29 am. There was only a minute left.

In my past life, the text message confirming the loan approval was sent to Zachary's phone at exactly 11:30 am.

The second hand ticked by. Each tick of the clock seemed to land squarely on my chest.

The moment the hands aligned on the clock face, I stopped humming and slowly raised my head. The madness and confusion on my face vanished instantly, replaced by a still calmness.

I looked at Harold and said clearly, "I'll confess. I planned this armored truck robbery a long time ago. I'm not insane, and bear full criminal responsibility."

The entire interrogation room fell so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

Harold and the psychiatrist both stared at me like I was some kind of monster. One second, I was incurably insane, and the next, I was as calm as a normal person?

This was even more unbelievable than seeing something supernatural.

I ignored their shock and continued, "I'm willing to accept all legal consequences. Now, could I have a glass of water?"

My attitude had done a complete 180.

Harold was stunned for a long moment before finally gesturing to an officer to get me some water. I took the cup from him and calmly took a sip.

I knew that over at the bank, Zachary's loan application had been rejected.

The credibility of a corporate legal representative would be completely ruined after getting caught robbing a bank on a livestream. No bank's risk control system would approve a loan for someone like that.

My first step had succeeded.

Not long after my "confession", the door to the interrogation room opened again. Zachary and Yvette walked in, followed by Liam.

Liam had a multitude of expressions on his face—worry, confusion, and the hurt from my earlier madness.

As for Zachary and Yvette, their expressions were full of "concern".

"Wen!" Zachary rushed over to me the moment he entered.

He grabbed my hand and stared at me with a heartbroken gaze. "How could you be so foolish? If there was trouble in the company, you could've talked to me! Why did you have to resort to this?"

Yvette, with her eyes red-rimmed, chimed in right after. "Yeah, Wen! We're like family. Can't we face things together? By doing this, you're pushing us all away!"

They performed with such passion and vivid emotion. It sounded as if they were truly heartbroken for me.

All I wanted to do was laugh as I watched their hypocritical farce.

"Family?" I pulled my hand back and glared at them. "Zachary, since when did you and your precious Yvette, become my family?"

Zachary's expression stiffened, and Yvette's gaze flickered slightly too.

Having sensed something was wrong, Liam frowned and asked, "Wen, what do you mean?"

I didn't answer him. Instead, I looked at Harold. "Mr. Jones, I'm not just confessing to the robbery—I'm also here to report a crime."

I pointed at Zachary and Yvette. "I suspect the two of them are guilty of embezzlement. They forged the company seal and my signature in an attempt to scam the bank for a loan of 500 million dollars!"

As soon as I spoke, everyone in the room was stunned into silence.