Chapter 38
If only Felicia could find a few more books, she would learn even more.
She dismissed her greedy thoughts and focused on the bookshelves. Soon, she became engrossed in
their content.
Traditional medicine was vast and profound, filled with mysteries. She lost herself in the reading.
Noticing her fascination, Clive observed with a hint of satisfaction. He quietly stepped out without disturbing her and instructed the Walsh family maids not to disturb her.
The maids were somewhat surprised. The Walsh family had a long-standing rule that only Clive and the next heir could enter the library.
So, Clive intended to pass the Walsh legacy to a granddaughter who was related by blood but had grown up outside the family.
Though the maids didn’t dare speak up, the news spread throughout the Walsh residence like wildfire. When Felicia finally emerged, she had spent the entire day in the library. If it weren’t for her rumbling stomach, she would have hesitated to leave the fascinating medical texts behind.
Indeed, with such rich resources, there was so much more to learn. As she sat in her wheelchair, a maid, Amber Wheeler, pushed her toward the exit.
The Walsh residence featured traditional courtyard architecture, exuding classical elegance.
Amber pushed Felicia through a connecting corridor when they passed under the Lunar Arch. Just as they were about to move forward, a stone was thrown from a distance and struck the wheelchair.
She turned her head and saw two teenage boys and a girl standing together in the courtyard, glaring at her with expressions filled with hostility and outrage. The girl, Isabella Walsh, raised her chin in disdain and sneered. “So, you’re Felicia?”
Amber quickly interjected, “Ms. Isabella, remember to be polite. You should call her “Aunt Felicia.”
Felicia was their aunt. Clive had three sons and a daughter.
The eldest, Jasper Walsh, was the most talented and virtuous. He should have been the rightful heir, but sadly, he had passed away young.
The second son, Noah Walsh, was a notorious scoundrel who pursued women even in his old age.
The youngest son, Jake Walsh, was timid and least favored.
Myra was the youngest daughter of the Walsh family.
Because Myra was born late, there was a significant age gap between her and her brothers. This resulted in Myra’s brothers, who could easily be Felicia’s grandfathers, instead becoming her uncles.
As a result, Felicia, who was only slightly older than the younger generation, suddenly found herself elevated to the role of an aunt.
Felicia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and asked Amber, who was behind her, “How old is Grandpa this year?”
Amber replied, “Mr. Walsh Senior is in his late 80s, around 86.”
That explained a lot. Felica nodded, then asked, “Which families do these little ones belong to?”
At her description, Isabella, who had just called Felicia by her name, became indigent. “Hey, who are you
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calling little ones?” she exclaimed.
Amber stifled a laugh and explained, “The one in white is her brother, while the other two are a pair of twins. They are Mr. Noah’s grandchildren. Mr. Jake has none since he’s unmarried.” Felicia raised an eyebrow, noticing that they were all spoiled teenagers who looked around 14 or 15 years old. She wasn’t much older than them, but now she had the title of “aunt”. Since that was the case, as an elder, it was only fitting that she teach these kids a lesson.
Tilting her chin, Felicia lazily said, “Whoever threw that stone, step forward.”
The three of them exchanged glances, clearly unwilling to confess.
“Fine then,” Felicia said. Not holding back, she casually picked up a small stone from a nearby flowerbed, holding it in a way that suggested she was ready to throw it at them. Being just kids, the moment they sensed she was serious, they immediately backed away and slyly pushed out a scapegoat.
“She threw it. It was her,” they shouted.
As they spoke, the three of them pushed a girl, Roberta Walsh, out from behind the bushes..
As Felicia caught sight of Roberta, she froze in surprise. She wondered how it was possible for their paths to cross again.
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