Felicia's first decision was to consolidate the two clinics, expanding the floor space and improving the layout. When the veteran physicians learned of their new boss, they prepared to resign. She assessed their skills and retained eight genuinely skilled practitioners from the original fifteen, simply doubling their salaries.

With new contracts signed, she hired a construction crew to begin renovations. Once the design and wallpaper were selected, remodeling commenced. Funding was not a concern; the mine and oil field proved incredibly lucrative.

Lacking the time to manage operations herself, Felicia accepted Mike's proposal: she would retain ownership of the mine and oil field, while the Lawson family would handle all extraction, sharing 50% of the revenue. This arrangement allowed her to profit while the Lawson family managed the workforce and equipment. It was a mutually beneficial agreement.

Her substantial monthly rental income from nearly 200 Archer Street storefronts further augmented her wealth. She never imagined becoming wealthy from her "kidnapping." Whether it was the eight million in compensation from the Chavez family or this windfall, she felt she deserved it.

With clinic renovations underway, only the name remained. Felicia retained the original "Union Clinic" sign. Across the street at Harmony Medical Center, Harvey learned of the purchase immediately. Upon discovering Felicia had bought the clinic, he laughed, "You? Union Clinic? More like a Quack's Shack! A third-rate hole-in-the-wall trying to compete with Harmony Medical Center? You're in over your head!" His glee was evident, but the other senior physicians at Harmony Medical Center felt uneasy. They had witnessed Felicia's skill firsthand and knew that collectively, they couldn't match her. Some even considered switching to Union Clinic, eager to learn from her. The thought of working with Harvey, however, was unappealing.

Three days later, Union Clinic officially opened. There were no grand celebrations—no flowers, red carpet, or fanfare. Instead, a bold announcement was posted: "Our clinic has no bad reviews!"

The audacity of claiming no bad reviews was striking. Not every illness is curable, and not every patient is easily pleased. Even Harmony Medical Center's self-proclaimed "Hippocrates," Harvey, occasionally faced disgruntled patients.

Harvey ridiculed Felicia's boldness, shouting, "Brat, you're so full of yourself! Do you even know your worth? What a disgrace!" Even Union Clinic's eight seasoned physicians urged her to temper her claim, fearing the potential for embarrassment if a negative review emerged. Felicia simply smiled, assuring them, "Don't worry. I'm here."

The physicians, half-minded to quit again, muttered, "It's because you're here that we're afraid!"