Delicia asked again, but received the same response. Meanwhile, flights to Seldvale were mysteriously canceled. How peculiar.

Scarlet lightly nudged Felicia’s arm. “Looks like someone’s targeting us. What’s the plan, boss?”

“Well, it’s time to use my superpower of being rich,” Felicia replied with a faint smile.

Tapping on her phone, she quickly contacted someone. Moments later, a man in a suit hurried toward them.

“Ms. Fuller, I presume? Your private jet is ready, and a car awaits at the entrance. Please follow me.”

His polite demeanor was tinged with flattery as he gestured for them to follow. Felicia pocketed her phone and strode forward.

Scarlet clicked her tongue in admiration. “As expected, money talks! A private jet, just like that!”

Before boarding, Felicia glanced back. That glance nearly gave the hidden Glovers family operatives a heart attack. Thankfully, she quickly turned away.

The private jet ascended swiftly. When Maurice’s subordinates reported this, he laughed dryly. He’d underestimated Felicia’s resources. Her medical skills commanded astronomical consultation fees, and Union Clinic's products, like the Panax pseudo-ginthera scar-removal cream, were perpetually sold out. He'd blocked her path to Seldvale, but she'd chartered a jet. There was no stopping her.

Maurice chuckled, then looked up, helplessness etched on his face. “Let’s go to Seldvale.”

His subordinates paled, nervously trying to dissuade him. “Mr. Glovers! Seldvale is Mr. Russell’s territory! Have you forgotten his warning? If he finds out, it’s as good as…”

“A one-way trip,” finished one of his men.

Before the man could finish, Maurice kicked him aside. “I wouldn’t dare,” he said calmly, yet menacingly.

“Wouldn’t dare? You all seem pretty bold to me,” he remarked nonchalantly, the air growing oppressive. His subordinates felt a chill, remembering his volatile nature and the many he'd “thrown to the crocodiles.”

The man he'd kicked quickly responded, “Mr. Glovers, I’ll make the arrangements immediately!”

On the private jet, Scarlet lounged comfortably, swirling a glass of red wine. Before her sat desserts prepared by a seven-star hotel chef. She tasted a bite and closed her eyes. “Not bad.”

Across from her, Felicia scrolled through a tablet. An inconspicuous news item caught her attention—a video of an elderly woman, unsteady on her feet, gesturing frantically and making strange sounds. The old woman couldn’t speak, only sign, and nobody understood. People laughed at her. Growing desperate, she broke into tears, begging, then pulled out a photograph and showed it to those around her, gesturing again.

Felicia understood.