Myra felt utterly baffled, even finding Dexter's statement somewhat amusing. "What do you mean?"

Dexter's expression gradually darkened. The forced smile looked more like he was crying, twisting his features. He called it a dream, but it felt too real; every detail matched reality perfectly. Yet, no matter how he explained it, Myra simply thought he was delusional.

"No matter how real it feels, it's just a dream. You're overthinking it," Myra said dismissively.

"Darling, let me ask you a few questions. Please answer honestly," Dexter insisted. He took a deep breath. "If Kayla were to cry and beg you, saying she didn't want to live in shame after Felicia's return and pleading with us to announce Felicia as our adopted daughter to the public, would you have agreed?"

Myra was silent for a moment. "Yes," she finally replied. She recalled the night Felicia was first brought home. If not for discovering those bruises, she truly might have chosen this method to justify things. Deep down, she selfishly believed this would spare Kayla from the ridicule of being exposed as a fake heiress. She thought compensating Felicia with material wealth would suffice to soothe the unfairness of declaring her their adopted daughter.

Dexter continued, "Felicia was abused by her foster parents and even had her right hand crippled by Shawn, her so-called brother. Would you, for Kayla's reputation, choose not to pursue justice?"

Myra was speechless. She understood his intention: he wanted to use the dream to prove its authenticity. She turned her head away, unwilling to answer, but her silence spoke volumes.

Dexter asked one last question: "Then, if under such circumstances, Kayla fell into the sea and her body wasn't found, and Felicia was accused of being the murderer, what would we do?" The answer was self-evident. They would suffer emotional turmoil, erupt in rage, and believe Felicia was the murderer without a doubt. They would sever ties with her. They might even slap her in anger when she tried to defend herself, and ultimately, they would kick her out of the house! Finally, they would acquiesce to Arnold sending Felicia to prison, just like in Dexter's dream. Whatever torment she endured would become her ultimate punishment.

Imagining the scenario, Myra took a frightened step back, steadied herself, and retorted, "So what? What you're describing is just a dream, nothing more. Reality isn't like that!"

The biggest difference between reality and the dream lay in Felicia's attitude toward them. In Dexter's dream, she always looked at them with longing. But in reality, she remained indifferent and distant, never once calling them "Mom" or "Dad." Why was it like this? Where did they go wrong?

Dexter muttered, "Do you think it's possible that this dream actually happened? Is that why our daughter is so heartbroken and disappointed in us that she won't acknowledge us?"

"You're just spouting nonsense!" Myra's hair stood on end, goosebumps breaking out all over her body.

He forced a faint smile, taking her hand. "Just think of it as nonsense, then…" He believed his suspicions were true, but he would rather they weren't. Even if it meant deceiving himself, it was better than facing an unbearable truth.

Myra pressed her lips together, saying nothing. Dexter's questions echoed incessantly in her head, painting vivid scenarios of her own actions. No, it couldn't be true! It couldn't be real! Myra tried to comfort herself, but cold sweat soaked her palms.

Meanwhile, Felicia was unaware of the couple's thoughts. She found herself wide awake after that phone call. Her attempt to settle in for a good night's sleep was completely wasted.