Since the chaotic birthday party, Felicia hadn't seen Kayla after her arrest and subsequent commitment to the sanatorium. Over two months had passed before their reunion. Felicia was surprised. In just a few months, Kayla had changed dramatically. Once a seemingly frail and delicate flower, easily pitied, she had possessed a ruthless, calculating mind, though often impatient enough to sabotage her own plans—as evidenced by her attempted murder and disposal of a body at Cedar Street beach.

After all that, Kayla looked worn. Her face was pale, and she seemed so thin and fragile, as if a strong breeze could carry her away. Yet, Felicia couldn't decipher her. Kayla's gaze was vacant, neither smiling nor resentful, yet intensely fixed on Felicia with dark, ink-like pupils, creating an unsettling atmosphere. Felicia thought, "Hmm? She seems to have wised up."

An attendant brought two cups of water. Felicia sipped hers, observing the sanatorium. She felt no urgency to speak. Finally, Kayla broke the silence, her voice slightly hoarse. "It's been a while, Felicia." Felicia sensed something amiss in the simple greeting. Unlike before, Kayla didn't immediately provoke, or say, "Felicia, do you think you've won?" She simply said, "It's been a while."

Swirling the water in her cup, Kayla casually asked, "You wanted to see me just to catch up?"

"Of course not," Kayla replied, tilting her head back and letting out a hollow, haunting laugh. It emanated from deep within her chest, a private joke understood only by herself. Her gaze descended from the ceiling, settling back on Felicia. Cryptically, she said, "I just wanted to see you. Now that I have, I'm content."

Felicia was speechless. Kayla was clearly unwell. Her mental disorder diagnosis—had she truly gone mad? Felicia set down her cup, noticing a visible wound on Kayla's forehead, partially hidden by her bangs. It appeared severe. "What happened to your head?" she asked.

Kayla offered a nonchalant smile. "I just took a fall."

Just a fall? Felicia was even more perplexed. Kayla had once obsessively cherished her appearance, fretting over minor blemishes and undergoing regular spa treatments. Now, she was indifferent to a prominent scar that would undoubtedly leave a lasting mark. This ordeal had, undeniably, brought some maturity.

Felicia didn't intend to linger. They were not the type to engage in peaceful conversation. Though overt hostility was absent, an underlying tension remained. As Felicia rose to leave, she expected a protest, a scene; there was none. Even as Felicia departed, Kayla's gaze followed, unfathomable for the first time.

Then, a Fuller family bodyguard arrived, carrying a large bundle of items Myra had sent for Kayla—clothes, skincare products, even socks.