When Imogen mentioned Archie's name, Johanna, standing on the second floor, briefly pressed her lips together. Her expression was a complex mix of anger, jealousy, and pride—a rather turbulent blend. By the time Felicia looked again, Johanna had already turned and left.

Imogen, seated on a small chair brought by a maid, reminisced about Archie. Every word she spoke was imbued with heartfelt emotion. Felicia sipped her tea, quietly basking in the sun, saying nothing.

After three days, all the herbs on the list were gathered. During that time, Imogen completely embraced the role of an older sister, showering Felicia with warmth and concern, though her inner thoughts remained unclear. They spent their days drinking tea, chatting, admiring flowers, and feeding fish. Evenings were spent sifting through baby clothes; Imogen, unable to see, relied on Felicia's descriptions of styles and colors.

Felicia, accustomed to solitude, found the constant interaction unsettling. However, Imogen's gentle persistence was impossible to resist. In contrast to their similar appearances, Felicia felt Imogen and Stephan were diametrically opposed in temperament. One, blind yet radiating inner light; the other, masking a dark and terrifying abyss beneath a superficial smile. They embodied two extremes.

Felicia, wishing no further delay, announced her departure the night the herbs were collected. She needed to return to her circle to create the antidote. Imogen, touching her noticeably rounded belly, sighed. "Alright. The plane's on standby, but it's too late tonight. Leave tomorrow."

Felicia nodded; another night wouldn't significantly alter things. She added, "Once the antidote is ready, I'll have it sent. You can take it after the baby is born." Imogen smiled and nodded in agreement.

As Felicia prepared for bed, she brushed past Johanna. It was peculiar. Over the past few days, Johanna had rarely been near Imogen, silently observing Imogen's attentive care for Felicia, even during meals. This was a stark contrast to her previous hostility. It felt as though she was subtly facilitating something, though Felicia hesitated to jump to conclusions. Johanna's faintly resentful and venomous demeanor, however, was undeniable.

Felicia withdrew her gaze, returned to her room, and locked the door. Late that night, Johanna knocked, holding a cup of warm milk. "Come in," Imogen answered.

"Imogen, you're still awake? I heated some milk. Are your legs cramping again? Let me massage them." Turning on the light, Johanna found Imogen leaning against the headboard. Understanding her discomfort, she expertly massaged Imogen's legs. "Does this feel better?"

Imogen nodded, her heart filled with gratitude. She sighed emotionally. "I'm so fortunate to have a sister-in-law like you."

Johanna chuckled, her lips curling into a smile—a smile devoid of sincerity, more mocking than genuine.