Chapter 46

"I can take care of myself," Felicia said. "After all, I've managed to get through all these years, haven't I?" She smiled faintly, a figure shrouded in mist, unreachable despite standing before them.

Myra and Dexter understood. Felicia didn't want closeness; she didn't see them as family. Myra, afraid of pushing further, reluctantly said, "Well, at least you can come home on weekends, right?"

"Sure," Felicia conceded.

As Felicia prepared to leave, Myra hesitated. "Licia, how did you manage school all these years? How did you pay for tuition?" The conversation returned to its origin.

"I don't mean anything by it, Licia," Myra quickly added, "I just feel heartbroken over what you went through. I hate myself for not knowing sooner..."

Felicia's memories flooded back. Everything matched the investigation. Howell and Tabitha had treated her like a slave, beating and scolding her at will. They would never have allowed her to attend school.

"When I was very young, they took me to a rural area. There was a small school in a converted house. Tuition was one hundred dollars and a piece of smoked ham. I had no money, so I crouched outside the window, listening from spring to winter. That's how I learned for two years. When I was eight, a kind old woman gave me the money and ham."

Felicia remembered the woman's gentle smile, a fairy godmother from a storybook. She had patted Felicia's head, saying, "A child who loves to learn should never be let down."

"I didn't take the money lightly," Felicia continued. "That hundred dollars was all she had, saved from weaving baskets. When she gave it to me, it was in small bills—fifty cents and one-dollar notes—wrapped in a thick bundle. Later, Howell made money scamming people, and we moved to town. There, I met a wonderful principal who accepted me. I earned top grades and won awards, and Howell and Tabitha saw me as a source of income—that's how I continued my education."

Felicia's resilience was evident. Myra's shoulders trembled; Dexter's brow furrowed. Felicia spoke lightly of her struggles, without complaint or resentment, as if recounting someone else's story. Having faced so much indifference, she didn't want her world confined to this small space.

In her previous life, Felicia yearned for the love she'd never known, ultimately losing herself in a tragic pursuit of affection. In this life, parental love didn't matter; she needed to learn self-love first.

Felicia returned to her room. Myra wept. Kayla, usually pampered, felt invisible and frustrated, her attempts to comfort Myra ignored. She laughed, admitting Felicia's "victim" act was impressive; a few words had made Myra and Dexter want to compensate for her past. It was quite touching.

Kayla smiled coldly. A moment of guilt and sorrow couldn't compare to eighteen years of nurturing and protection. "Just wait and see," she thought. "I wouldn't lose." Especially with college starting soon, she had more than one surprise for Felicia.