The Walsh residence was draped in somber white. Felicia barely crossed the threshold when a ceramic cup hurtled toward her. She stepped aside, letting it shatter.
Myra, in a stark black mourning outfit accented with a white flower, was the culprit. Her face contorted with fury; her eyes burned into Felicia with venomous intensity. "What are you doing here? Get out!"
Without hesitation, she grabbed a nearby ashtray and threw it. Felicia ducked, narrowly avoiding the heavy object as it crashed onto the marble floor. She felt the weight of Myra's rage; the ashtray could have cracked her skull.
A shadow flickered across Felicia's face; her patience waned. She had come to pay her respects—nothing more. Only her desire to honor Clive had brought her to this house.
Taking a steadying breath, Felicia said calmly, "I just want to pay my last respects to Grandpa and leave."
This only fueled Myra's fury. Her voice rose to a near scream as she unleashed a torrent of accusations. "Pay your respects? Now? Spare me your hypocrisy! If you cared, you would have come when he died! Or at least for the burial! But you waited until now? Felicia, you're heartless! Cold-blooded! A disgrace! How could I have given birth to someone like you?" Her chest heaved with anger and disappointment.
Felicia glanced around; the mourning extended beyond Clive. A heavy atmosphere hung in the air, punctuated by whispered conversations painting grim pictures.
"The Walsh family must have seriously offended someone," one guest murmured. "First, Harmony Medical Center burned down. Then, Mr. Walsh Senior died. Now they've found Harvey's body on the outskirts of town."
"Yeah, I heard it was from a helicopter," another chimed in. "They say he 'fell,' but we all know what that means. Someone probably pushed him. And just like that, the third branch has risen to power. Harvey suppressed them, but look at them now—completely taking over."
"No kidding!"
The chatter confirmed Felicia's suspicions. Harvey's death had plunged the family into further disarray. Myra's explosive anger at her presence now made sense; Felicia's absence during these critical events was, to Myra, an unforgivable betrayal.
Though saddened by Clive's passing, Felicia didn't regret her actions. Clive had been a complicated figure in her life, offering moments of warmth but also reminding her of familial expectations she could never meet.
Her throat tightened. Facing Myra's searing glare, she spoke. "I didn't stay away by choice. I was abducted and held captive for seven days. I escaped this morning."
After changing clothes at her apartment, Felicia reached the Walsh residence immediately upon returning to Khogend. Her words were direct.
Myra scoffed, disbelief etched on her face. "Abducted? You? Save that for someone gullible! You're just like your no-good adoptive parents, Tabitha and Howell. You were born liars, every one of you!"
The venom in her voice cut deep. "I should have never given birth to you! Get out! You're a stain on this family!"
A maid walked by carrying a basin of water. Myra snatched it and flung the murky contents at Felicia.
Felicia braced herself, but a black umbrella snapped open before her, deflecting most of the splash. The man holding it tilted it away, letting the remaining water spill harmlessly.
It was Mike. He casually tossed the umbrella aside and grinned cheekily. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," Felicia replied evenly, a slight lift to her lips. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her back straight and unyielding.