No parents could remain deaf and blind to the cruel and underhanded means their adopted daughter used to harm their biological daughter. Felicia might not care about this so-called familial bond, but she had to fight for justice. If she didn't, she would never overcome the past torment and injustice, nor make peace with her fate. Taking a deep breath, Felicia crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash.

After three days' rest, Clive called, asking Felicia to visit the Walsh residence library to examine some books. Though her leg was not fully healed, she limped to the house. Clive was shocked by her appearance and immediately inquired about her injury. Felicia shrugged it off, claiming a fall. But such excuses wouldn't fool him. A top-tier medical master, Clive recognized the gunshot wound at a glance. Furious, he demanded the truth.

Left with no choice, Felicia vaguely mentioned trouble and a kidnapping.

"Who kidnapped you?" Clive pressed.

Without hesitation, Felicia named Melvin, the Chavez family's scion.

Clive's expression darkened, confusion evident. "But you don't know anyone from the Chavez family. Why would Melvin, that hotheaded boy, kidnap you?" Felicia smiled, offering no explanation. Of course, it was to defend Kayla's honor, or perhaps…he acted on her orders. But Felicia couldn't say that; it would sound like complaining, and complaints needed support, which she lacked.

Clive sighed sympathetically. "You've been through a lot, Licia."

Felicia shook her head. "Not really." She would settle this score, one way or another.

Clive snorted. His white hair and beard belied the sharp, vibrant mischief in his eyes. "Don't worry, Licia. We'll wait for the tables to turn, and when they do, they'll turn hard." He chuckled. "There will come a day when the Chavez family will come knocking on our door for help."

Felicia blinked, uncertain.

Clive grinned mysteriously. "Melvin's father has been complaining of persistent headaches. He's requested my treatment several times. I was planning a visit in a few days, but now…" He trailed off with a smug laugh. If a child is poorly taught, it reflects on the father, he mused. They would need to show sincerity to secure his consultation.

Felicia found Clive endearing.

After their conversation, Clive noticed her injured leg. "With your leg like this, you can barely stand. Why don't we postpone the library visit until you've healed?"

"No, let's go today," Felicia replied, smiling slightly. "You can't back out, Grandpa."

Felicia's eagerness to learn pleased Clive. He had a wheelchair brought for her.

The Walsh residence library was enormous, rivaling a small public library. Rows of shelves overflowed with books. Felicia noticed many notebooks and texts; some covers were yellowed and worn with age. Acupuncture charts and pressure point diagrams adorned the walls, covering more topics than she anticipated.

As she browsed, Felicia recognized much of the acupuncture information. It was more than familiar—it mirrored what she'd learned from the book she'd found. She surmised the book was from a true master, more concise and profound than the Walsh family's documentation.