Myra watched Felicia's transformation from resignation to hope, only to see it shattered. The pain pierced her soul like countless sharp blades. The deepest wounds, she realized, often came from those closest. Myra witnessed Kayla's deceitful schemes firsthand. Beneath Kayla's innocent facade lurked a sinister expression, eerily similar to Howell and Tabitha's. Kayla repeatedly schemed, sowed discord, and framed Felicia. Finally, feigning a fall into the sea, she pinned all the blame on Felicia.

Myra helplessly watched as her past self cruelly rejected Felicia, severing ties and casting her out. With their tacit approval, Arnold sent Felicia to prison, under the guise of justice for Kayla—a thinly veiled punishment. Meanwhile, Kayla hid in the shadows, laughing.

Felicia died, but Kayla emerged unscathed, claiming miraculous survival and amnesia. This flimsy excuse convinced everyone. No one questioned her story; instead, they celebrated her return.

Myra's chest tightened, and she coughed up blood. How blind had she been? How could she ignore her daughter's suffering to protect an imposter's reputation? To overlook Howell and Tabitha's heinous deeds and pay them millions in hush money? To dismiss Felicia's pleas for justice, failing to see through Kayla's schemes and becoming complicit in her death? How could she have shown such blatant favoritism?

Regret and hatred consumed her. Her heart twisted with pain; waves of remorse left her icy cold. She clutched her head and spat out more blood.

Her eyes opened to the ceiling light. Dexter's voice echoed, "Darling, you're awake? Are you unwell? Why are you crying? Tell me. I'll take you to the hospital!"

Myra stared blankly. A tear fell. She shook her head. Her body felt numb, only her heart ached—hollow and filled with regret. She gripped Dexter's hand, silent tears dampening the pillow. "I had such a long dream…"

In that dream, she saw her past life and present. Dexter, having spoken similar words, seemed to understand. He held her hand, saying gently, "It's over now, darling. It's all in the past… Don't think about it anymore."

Myra gazed vacantly at the ceiling. The dream had shown her a new perspective. While living it, she hadn't realized her indecision, ignorance, and tolerance of the intolerable. Now, she saw her impulsiveness and self-righteousness. She'd had countless opportunities to change things, yet chose to blind herself to the truth.