Felicia laughed at the absurdity of it all. Such a heartfelt plea, brimming with tears and sincerity, was genuinely touching. She'd wondered what Kayla and Shawn were up to after their beachside conversation—it couldn't have been idle chatter. They'd devised a foolproof plan, or so they thought, to eliminate her. For days, Felicia had been cautious, yet no one seemed to be following her.

Then, it clicked. Kayla's constant displays of affection toward Myra were calculated, designed to manipulate Felicia's emotional vulnerabilities, exploiting her longing for maternal love, leaving her open to Tabitha's tearful ambush. Had Felicia gone to that address, it would have been a meticulously laid trap.

How pathetic.

A hint of excitement crept into Felicia's voice. "Really?"

"Of course! I would never lie to you!" Tabitha's voice trembled with eagerness, sensing her plan's success. "Licia," she continued, "I've sent you the address. Come over now! We'll light candles, cut the cake, and you can go to the Fuller family's birthday party afterward. The timing's perfect, don't you think?"

Felicia smiled faintly. "That sounds great."

"Wonderful! Hurry, my dear. I can't wait to see you!"

The moment Felicia hung up, her expression turned icy. All sentiment vanished, replaced by cold mockery. These people still believed themselves clever, she mused. Without hesitation, she called Lance.

She recited Tabitha's address, her tone indifferent. "Keep them alive. I need their statements when Kayla's crimes come to light."

Lance's laughter was almost audible. "Got it, Ms. Fuller. Don't worry, I've handled plenty of jobs like this."

Tabitha ended the call in a shabby rental house, a self-satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "I told you! That girl's still under my thumb!" she gloated to Shawn. "See? No need to worry."

Shawn's face twisted into a sinister grin. "Good. Once that little brat shows up, we'll take her out. Then, we can get back to living the good life!"

Howell, however, remained uneasy. "Are you sure your sister Kayla will give you the money? You're not lying to us, are you?"

"Relax, Dad. She's my blood sister, your real daughter. Once she inherits the Fuller fortune, who else is she going to spoil but us?" Howell remained skeptical, but Shawn dismissed his concerns. "Even if she tries to back out, I've got dirt on her. She wouldn't dare turn her back on us."

"That's true," Howell nodded, his gaze falling on his son's mangled hand. His hatred for Felicia burned fiercely. "That ungrateful wretch! We fed her, clothed her, and she has the audacity to harm my son!"

"Exactly! When that brat shows up, I'm going to tear her apart!" Tabitha spat. The three exchanged a glance and sprang into action.

A small birthday cake, laced with sedatives, sat on the table. The kettle held drugged water. A knife lay under the table, and a length of rope was hidden behind the sofa.

The plan was simple: Felicia would arrive, eat the cake, drink the water, and pass out. Then, Howell and Shawn would tie her up and finish the job. Shawn, having already committed murder the night before, felt emboldened, invincible.

A knock came at the door.

"She's here!" Tabitha's eyes lit up as she whispered for the men to hide. She smoothed her face into an expression of motherly affection and opened the door, beaming. "Oh, my dear, you finally—"

Her words died in her throat. Standing in the doorway was not Felicia, but a tall, broad-shouldered man with a chilling grin.

Tabitha screamed and tried to slam the door shut.