Return of the Crowned Heiress

No parents could remain deaf and blind when they found out that the adopted daughter they raised had used such cruel and underhanded means to harm their biological daughter.

Felicia might not care about this so–called familial bond, but she had to fight for justice for hersel

If she didn’t, she would never be able to move on from the torment and injustice she suffered in her past life. Nor would she ever make peace with her fate.

Taking

a deep breath, Felicia crumpled the paper in her hand and tossed it into the trash.

After three days of rest, Felicia received a call from Clive, asking her to visit the Walsh residence library to look through some books.

Though her leg hadn’t fully healed yet, she limped her way into the house. Clive was shocked at the sight and immediately asked about her leg.

Felicia shrugged it off, claiming she had fallen.

But such excuses could fool anyone but him. Clive was a top–tier medical master–he could tell at a glance that this was no ordinary injury but a gunshot wound.

Furious, Clive demanded to know what had really happened.

Left with no choice, Felicia vaguely mentioned that she had run into some trouble and had been kidnapped.

“Who kidnapped you?” Clive pressed.

With no intention to hide anything. Felicia simply mentioned the name of the Chavez family’s scion,

Melvin.

Clive’s expression darkened, confusion flickering in his eyes. “But you don’t even know anyone from the Chavez family. Why would Melvin, that hotheaded boy, kidnap you?”

Felicia smiled without answering.

Of course, it was to defend Kayla’s honor, or perhaps… he was simply acting on her orders. Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

But Felicia couldn’t say that out loud. It would sound like she was complaining. And complaints only worked if there was someone to back her up.

Clearly, she didn’t.

Clive sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy. “You’ve been through a lot, Licia.”

Felicia shook her head and replied, “Not really.”

After all, she would settle this score, one way or another.

Clive let out a snort. His white hair and beard made him appear elderly, but his eyes were sharp and vibrant, filled with mischievous pride.

He said, “Don’t worry, Licia. We’ll just wait for the tables to turn, and when they do, we’ll make sure they turn hard.”

He gave another snort of amusement and added, “There will come a day when the Chavez family will come knocking on our door for help.”

Felicia blinked, not fully grasping his meaning.

Clive grinned mysteriously and added, “Melvin’s father has been complaining about persistent headaches recently. He’s sent several requests asking me to treat him. I was planning to visit him in a few days, but

now…

He trailed off with a smug laugh.

“If a child is poorly taught, it reflects on the father,” Clive thought to himself. If they wanted him to come for a consultation, they would have to show some real sincerity.

Felicia couldn’t help but find Clive a bit endearing.

After the conversation, Clive glanced at her injured leg and asked, “With your leg in this condition, you can barely stand. Why don’t we postpone the visit to the library until you’ve healed?”

“No, let’s go today,” Felicia replied with a slight smile. “You can’t back out, Grandpa.”

The eager Felicia was thirsty for knowledge, and her continuous desire to learn pleased Clive. He promptly had someone bring over a wheelchair for her to sit in.

The Walsh residence library was enormous, comparable to a small public library. Rows upon rows of shelves were filled with books.

As Felicia browsed through the shelves, she noticed many notebooks and pieces of literature. Some covers were yellowed and worn, clearly showing their age.

In addition, the walls were adorned with acupuncture charts and pressure points diagrams, covering more topics than Felicia had anticipated.

As she flipped through the books, she realized that much of the information on performing acupuncture was familiar. In fact, it was more than familiar–it was what she had already learned from the book she had found.

She guessed that the book must have been left by a true master, who was more concise and profound than what the Walsh family had documented.