If Felicia could find a few more books, she would learn even more. Dismissing her greedy thoughts, she focused on the bookshelves, soon becoming engrossed in their contents. Traditional medicine was vast and profound, filled with mysteries; she lost herself in the reading.
Noticing her fascination, Clive observed with a hint of satisfaction. He quietly left, instructing the Walsh family maids not to disturb her. The maids were surprised; the Walsh family had a long-standing rule that only Clive and the next heir could enter the library. Clive intended to pass the Walsh legacy to a granddaughter, related by blood but raised outside the family.
Though the maids remained silent, the news spread rapidly through the Walsh residence. When Felicia finally emerged, having spent the entire day in the library, only her rumbling stomach prompted her to leave the fascinating medical texts. Indeed, with such rich resources, there was so much more to learn. As she sat in her wheelchair, a maid, Amber Wheeler, pushed her toward the exit.
The Walsh residence, with its traditional courtyard architecture, exuded classical elegance. Amber pushed Felicia through a connecting corridor, passing under the Lunar Arch. Just as they were about to proceed, a stone struck the wheelchair. Felicia turned to see two teenage boys and a girl in the courtyard, glaring at her with hostility and outrage. The girl, Isabella Walsh, sneered, "So, you're Felicia?"
Amber quickly interjected, "Ms. Isabella, remember to be polite. You should call her 'Aunt Felicia.'" Felicia was their aunt; Clive had three sons and a daughter. The eldest, Jasper Walsh, the most talented and virtuous, should have been the heir but had died young. The second son, Noah Walsh, was a notorious scoundrel; the youngest, Jake Walsh, was timid and unfavored. Myra was the youngest daughter, resulting in a significant age gap between her and her brothers—who could easily be Felicia's grandfathers—making them her uncles. Thus, Felicia, only slightly older than the younger generation, was now an aunt.
Felicia raised an eyebrow and asked Amber, "How old is Grandpa this year?"
"Mr. Walsh Senior is in his late eighties, around eighty-six," Amber replied.
That explained much. Felicia nodded, then asked, "Which families do these children belong to?"
Isabella, who had just addressed Felicia by her first name, bristled. "Hey, who are you calling 'little ones'?" she exclaimed.
Amber stifled a laugh and explained, "The one in white is her brother; the others are twins. They are Mr. Noah's grandchildren. Mr. Jake has none, as he's unmarried." Felicia noted they were spoiled teenagers, around fourteen or fifteen. She wasn't much older, yet held the title of "aunt." As an elder, she decided to teach them a lesson.
Tilting her chin, Felicia lazily said, "Whoever threw that stone, step forward."
The three exchanged glances, unwilling to confess.
"Fine then," Felicia said, picking up a small stone from a nearby flowerbed, holding it as if ready to throw. The children, sensing her seriousness, immediately backed away, pushing forward a scapegoat.
"She threw it! It was her!" they shouted, pushing Roberta Walsh from behind the bushes.
Seeing Roberta, Felicia froze in surprise, wondering how their paths had crossed again.