When the slap landed on Felicia's face, an identical mark inexplicably appeared on Maurice's cheek. Everyone froze. "What just happened?" one person exclaimed. "What the hell..." another breathed. Even the men stared, dumbfounded.

Felicia, however, burst into unrestrained laughter. Her loud, defiant laughter echoed through the courtyard, jarring the men into fury. One grabbed her hair and kicked her hard. "What's so funny? Shut up!" he roared.

But as Felicia lurched from the kick, Maurice, in his wheelchair, felt the same force. His body jerked violently, nearly throwing him from his seat. One of his men scrambled to steady the chair, panic etched on his face. "What's wrong, Mr. Glovers? Are you okay?"

Maurice's expression darkened, suspicion clouding his gaze. The slap might have been coincidence, but the kick was undeniably real. Felicia must have done something.

He rolled his wheelchair before her, grabbing her jaw with a menacing grip. His sharp gaze bore into her. "What did you do to me?" he demanded, his voice cold.

His grip tightened, threatening to break her bone. But as he exerted more pressure, a dull pain shot through his own jaw, forcing him to falter.

He glared at Felicia, now restrained by his men, her face red and hair disheveled. Yet her eyes sparkled mischievously. She smirked, brimming with confidence. "Let me clue you in on something I've perfected. Anything you do to me, you'll feel double," she said. "Surprised, Mr. Glovers?" she added with mock innocence. "Bet you didn't see that coming."

The slap had reddened Felicia's cheek, but Maurice's face was slightly swollen—worse than hers. Felicia had only stumbled from the kick, but Maurice nearly fell from his wheelchair. The pain was doubled.

Hearing this, Maurice narrowed his eyes, staring at Felicia. Then, to everyone's surprise, he laughed—a chilling sound that resonated louder than Felicia's earlier laughter.

"Well done, Felicia. I underestimated you," he said, clapping slowly. His gaze deepened, its intensity making his thoughts unreadable. Unease washed over Felicia. Maurice was unpredictable; he played by no rules. Could he be thinking…

Before the thought could fully form, Maurice snapped his fingers. A strange excitement laced his voice as he commanded, "Throw her in!"

Felicia's heart sank. The answer came swiftly—the crocodile pool. Without hesitation, his men, trained to obey, grabbed her and dragged her toward the pool.

Nearby, Caesar, the white-haired medical practitioner, rushed forward, examining Maurice's pulse. His voice trembled. "There's no sign of any venomous creature in your system…"

As he spoke, he opened Felicia's discarded medical kit and found a set of silver needles. Pricking Maurice's arm with one, a small, slithering creature became visible beneath his skin the moment blood appeared. It drank the blood before vanishing.

Gasps filled the room. "What on earth is that?" someone cried. "Oh my God!"

Kelsey, watching in stunned silence, staggered backward, nearly fainting. A maid quickly caught her.