The favoritism was unbearable—blatant and suffocating. Felicia's sharp eyes seemed to pierce their thoughts, exposing any trace of guilt or denial.
Myra stammered, "Licia, Kayla would never do something like that."
"You can read her mind now? Know exactly what she's done or thought?" Felicia's tone was dismissive, indifferent to the potential damage to their relationship. The illusion of family harmony had long since shattered; pretense was unnecessary.
Myra was speechless. Dexter interjected, "Licia, don't get sidetracked. Melvin tried to harm you, and I promise justice will be served. Kayla has nothing to do with this." Kayla stood quietly, needing no defense; she always had someone ready to believe and protect her—a privilege Felicia could never afford.
Felicia had anticipated this, yet the tight, suffocating pain in her chest was still overwhelming. It was impossible to rouse someone feigning sleep, just as futile to reason with unwilling parents.
Taking a deep breath, she looked up to see Kayla smiling. That smug expression—the same smile from her past life, just before everything ended. Without a word, Felicia pushed past Myra and Dexter, approaching Kayla. She raised her hand and slapped her.
The sound echoed, Kayla's cheek instantly swelling. Before Myra and Dexter could intervene, Felicia slapped her again, swelling the other cheek. Flexing her tingling hand, she calmly said, "I've wanted to do that for a long time."
Kayla timidly covered her face, her resentment evident, yet she didn't retaliate. "Felicia, as long as you're satisfied, I can pretend it doesn't hurt," she whispered.
That line—"As long as you're satisfied"—must have been infuriating for Dexter and Myra. Felicia shot them a scathing glance. Their guilt was palpable; regardless of Kayla's involvement, Felicia's kidnapping stemmed from her actions. Venting her anger felt natural. Fortunately, she had no intention of striking again.
She limped to the elevator, ascended to the second floor, and locked the door behind her. Myra sighed in relief, instructing the maid to fetch an ice pack for Kayla. Pouring a glass of water, she said, "Felicia is just upset, but you understand, right?"
Kayla could only nod pitifully. Myra sighed again. "I know you feel wronged, but Melvin went too far. Stay away from him, okay?"
"Got it, Mom…" Kayla pouted, her obedience masking a flicker of malice.
The matter was dismissed, yet simmering tensions boiled to the surface. In her room, Felicia gazed calmly at the scenery. It was fine. The cracks were forming, bit by bit. Kayla's actions would increasingly expose her flaws, eventually ripping away her false mask. Even now, despite Myra and Dexter's defense, a flicker of doubt must have crossed their minds. For now, they chose to trust their judgment; but in the future, the evidence would convince them.