Dexter, well known in high society for his devotion to his wife, supported Myra's decisions without question. He remained silent even when she signed a fifty-million-dollar check. With his biological daughter soon to be formally acknowledged, he would certainly not object.

"Alright, I'll take care of it," he said.

Kayla's face paled at Dexter's agreement. Protesting now would only antagonize Myra and Dexter, making any change impossible. However, Felicia's true identity would expose Kayla's false status, revealing her parents as lowlife scoundrels.

Clenching her fists, Kayla glared at Felicia, hatred simmering in her eyes. She concluded Felicia's apparent desire to leave was a calculated tactic. Felicia, sensing this, glimpsed the malice before Kayla resumed her innocent smile.

"Isn't this wonderful, Felicia? We'll be a family from now on!" Kayla exclaimed.

Felicia offered a small smile. "Yes, wonderful."

The squeaky wheel gets the grease, Felicia mused, recalling a tactic learned from Kayla.

In her previous life, Felicia had been meek and uncompetitive, yearning for her parents' attention. Ultimately, she was accepted back into the Fuller family, but only as an adopted daughter. This time, however, she employed a different strategy. By strategically withdrawing and shedding a few well-timed tears, she secured a rightful outcome. Was she outsmarting the devil at his own game? Felicia yawned. "I'm tired."

The late hour prompted Myra's agreement. "Oh my, it's almost midnight! Come, Felicia, let's go upstairs and see your room."

Dexter, still smiling warmly, led the way.

On the second floor, Myra expected Dexter to have chosen a pleasant guest room for Felicia. Instead, he stopped before Kayla's bedroom door. The room had been redecorated; Kayla's belongings were gone, and the furnishings were new.

Myra hesitated. "What is going on?"

"Mom, it was my idea," Kayla said, playfully sticking out her tongue. "I've taken Felicia's place for so long, it's only right she has the room now. As long as you don't kick me out, I don't mind where I sleep."

This selfless gesture melted Myra's heart.

"You silly child! We have plenty of rooms. You don't need to make such a sacrifice."

"That's not the same," Kayla insisted, smiling brightly. "This is the best room, so of course it should go to Felicia! Besides, as long as you love me, it won't be a big sacrifice!"

The exchange painted Felicia as the villainous usurper. Cutting through the sentimentality, Felicia asked plainly, "If you're not willing to give it up, then why did you offer it to me?"

Was Kayla merely playing the part of the selfless daughter?

"No, no, I really want to!" Kayla exclaimed, flustered. "As long as you don't mind, I'm happy to give you anything!"

"Oh, in that case, thank you," Felicia replied, entering the room. Turning back, she added, "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Kayla, speechless, had expected a polite refusal. She had prepared counterarguments, believing a slight resistance would allow her to retain the room while appearing generous. But Felicia wasn't playing by her rules.

As Kayla's face fell, Felicia tilted her head, feigning puzzlement. "Hmm? You don't look happy. Are you not willing to offer me your room?"

A refusal would shatter Kayla's "good girl" facade; an affirmation would silence future complaints. Kayla was speechless, forced to smile and grit her teeth. "No, no, I'm happy to do this. You should get some rest, Felicia. Goodnight!"

Felicia, with a faint smile, bid Myra and Dexter goodnight and closed the door.

The room was meticulously arranged, with new bedding and rearranged furniture. The only remaining item from Kayla was a framed family photo on the desk—a portrait of Dexter, Myra, a smiling Kayla, and a serious Sebastian.

Sebastian Fuller, Felicia's biological brother, worked abroad and rarely visited. Even in her previous life, they had interacted little.

The photo's placement was undoubtedly deliberate, a subtle assertion of Kayla's position and Felicia's outsider status. It was a carefully aimed barb, reminiscent of its sting in her past life. However, Felicia now felt indifferent. This wasn't her home, and her stay would be brief.

With a small laugh, Felicia returned the photo to its place. She showered, changed into pajamas, and climbed into bed. Sitting cross-legged, she closed her eyes and began to meditate. In this state, archaic script swirled around her, fragments of a long-lost medical manuscript, a treasure any alternative doctor would covet.