Clive lost his appetite. A dark expression settled on his face. "I must find out who sneaked in here!" Losing a poison of that type was no laughing matter. If the thief used it maliciously, detection would be nearly impossible; it was potent, colorless, and odorless. Before leaving, Clive glanced at Felicia. "Licia, be careful."

Felicia nodded.

Clive strode from the pharmacy. Passing Roberta, who waited outside, he remembered her injury. He stopped. "You haven't changed your dressing today, have you? Once I've dealt with this, find me; I'll help."

"Thank you, Great-grandpa," Roberta beamed.

Before, she would have been overjoyed by his concern. But now… it was too late. After Clive left, Felicia emerged.

Roberta said gently, "Aunt Felicia, the weather's lovely. Shall we go to the garden? I've baked a cake and some desserts. Would you like to try them?"

Felicia studied Roberta's face, searching for something unusual. Nothing stood out; Roberta seemed her usual self, though less smiling and a bit tired, the corners of her eyes slightly red. She seemed to have cried recently.

Felicia accepted. "Sure!" She wanted to see how long Roberta would maintain this pretense.

Felicia closed the pharmacy door and followed Roberta to the garden. Several plates of desserts and sliced fruit sat on a stone table, along with two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice.

A flash of contempt crossed Felicia's eyes at the juice. If she was right, one drink was spiked.

Felicia deliberately fell behind to observe Roberta. Roberta acted as if noticing nothing, sitting on the right and taking the right-hand glass of juice. Felicia sat opposite, ignoring the desserts and remaining juice, which Roberta pushed closer. Roberta looked toward the sun, squinting, then smiled faintly. "Aunt Felicia, the weather is so lovely."

Felicia remained silent. Roberta didn't seem to mind, launching into a story.

"When I was younger, I thought I was the happiest child. My mother was gentle, my father caring and thoughtful. Then, a woman stormed into our house, claiming my father as her husband. She yanked my mother's hair, calling her a slut and a mistress.

"I didn't understand 'mistress' at first. Later, people called me the daughter of a mistress, an illegitimate child. My classmates mocked me. Neighbors left rubbish at our door. No matter where we moved, people found us, splashing paint on our door, distributing flyers with photos of my mother and me.

"Eventually, my mother developed mental health problems. Before her hospitalization, she found my father and arranged for the Walsh family to take me. She said it was for my sake, but she was so naive! She had no idea how hard life was for me with the Walshes."

Roberta chuckled bitterly, her eyes red, tears held back. "The caring father in my memories… he was a different person; I barely recognized him."

She looked at Felicia, continuing mockingly, "You know what happened next, Aunt Felicia. Using the excuse of sending me abroad to study, Talia had her men sell me to people in that village. I tried escaping, but they always caught me." Each time, a darker hell awaited her.

"The day I met you was my birthday. I prayed for salvation, and you appeared."