Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 100: The Thumb Presses Down on the Lip

Chapter 100: Chapter 100: The Thumb Presses Down on the Lip

"Really? Then why do you still listen to me? I tell you to come over, and without a word, you come over to help."

The man looked at her, charm radiating from his handsome face as a smile appeared, curious to see how she would defend herself.

"This..." Surely enough, Amelia Garcia stammered even more, while regretting her momentary lapse of judgment.

Being too soft-hearted will be the death of me!

"Sympathy for the weak is human instinct, what’s there to scrutinize?" she finally found an excuse.

The man’s smile grew, his right arm which had been stiff and numb moments ago was now feeling better. He lifted his hand and reached toward her soft, fair cheek.

Amelia instinctively tilted her head to dodge, "Mr. Hart, please have some self-respect!"

He missed the touch, but as her face turned back, he insisted on touching her, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers affectionately, then his thumb audaciously landed on her lips.

As if he were touching a treasured gem.

Amelia suddenly felt the skin he touched turn burning hot.

When his thumb pressed down on her lips, the woman, as if struck by a jolt of electricity, pushed him away and stepped back several times, looking at him with confusion.

"What are you trying to do? Do you enjoy this ambiguous situation? From my perspective, it’s particularly thuggish, and greasiness to the point of revulsion!"

Watching her flare up again, Christopher Hart suddenly exhaled with relief, inexplicably saying, "You are much more interesting now than when you were meek like a little quail back then."

"..." Amelia gave him a glance, too tired to speak again.

What a nuisance, delighting in provoking others, what a vexation!

She turned back, sat down beside the hospital bed, extended her hand to touch the little girl’s forehead, then sat back.

Christopher Hart watched her for a while, his lips curved in a half-smile, then turned and walked out the door.

Amelia looked up, staring at the closed door, her eyes filled with a sense of loss.

Deep down, she truly despised herself.

Actually, Lily Garcia hated her and it was not wrong.

Someone else’s dream of marrying into a wealthy family, brought about by exchanging a kidney, was now causing waves because of the insertion of this "other woman". Who wouldn’t be enraged?

And she had made up her mind over and over again to sever ties with this man, to have nothing more to do with him, yet she kept breaking her word, entangled all over again.

Ah, Amelia Garcia, Amelia Garcia, how did you become this kind of person?

You deserve to be cursed at, to be beaten in the streets.

She fiercely reprimanded herself in her mind.

————

For two consecutive days, Amelia stayed in the hospital room accompanying Hope.

The little girl had recurring fever, dozing on and off.

Every time she opened her eyes to see her mama right there, she would smile sweetly, have a bit of water or something to eat, then fall back into a peaceful sleep.

Amelia enjoyed the quiet moments alone with her daughter, and her restless and conflicted mind and body finally began to settle.

For these two days, Lily Garcia had surprisingly not shown up at all.

And Christopher Hart hadn’t come the first night either, presumably caught up with busyness at the company.

But this was better; it saved the awkwardness of their interaction should he visit, leading to a muddled, tug-of-war-like situation.

The night deepened, and she secretly video-called her two little ones who were reluctant to sleep, pointing the camera at their sleeping sister.

The brothers were reassured only after seeing their sister, chatted for a while, then ended the video call.

Amelia sat by the bed, holding her daughter’s hand.

She was on her period today, feeling a dull pain in her abdomen and very uncomfortable; lying down didn’t help, but sitting hunched over, with one hand on her lower abdomen, felt somewhat better.

So, she curled up and just sat like that by the hospital bed, gazing dreamily at her daughter’s sleeping face.

Unwittingly, she leaned over the edge of the bed and drifted into a light sleep.

In the wee hours, the door to the hospital room swung open, and a tall, slender figure slowly stepped inside.

As the figure passed the sofa and coffee table, he set down his laptop bag, discarded his coat, and then walked to the bed.

Amelia Garcia, asleep, suddenly felt lighter, as if she were on an airplane, rocking and swaying.

She frowned, trying to wake up, yet found the scent at the tip of her nose comforting.

Her thoughts drifted to that afternoon hiking—her first menstrual cycle, being awkwardly yet tenderly cared for by the sun-soaked boy.

Reluctance lingered in her subconscious, so she suppressed the urge to wake.

Until her body began to fall, and her back met resistance.

Startled, she bolted upright, and upon seeing the handsome face so close, she recoiled in fright once again!

"It’s me!" Seeing that she was quite scared, Christopher Hart quickly responded, while also preparing to withdraw the arm cradling her legs, ready to place her on the bed.

"No..." Amelia frowned, her voice mosquito-like, as she hurriedly tried to get up.

Christopher didn’t understand and instinctively held her down, "Go back to sleep; I’ll stay with her."

"No, I... I have my—" she pushed away from him, unable to explain her physical discomfort, and insisted on getting out of bed.

Christopher straightened up, his irritation barely concealed, "What do you take me for? Do you really think I would do something to you in a hospital room?"

Amelia had just stood up when she felt a warm flow between her legs; her brow tightened instantly as she awkwardly tried to explain, "It’s not that, I... I have my period, you suddenly picked me up and then put me down, and I almost..."

Before she could finish, she realized she couldn’t wait any longer, shoved him aside, and rushed to the restroom.

Christopher stood there stunned, finally realizing the situation, embarrassingly poking his nose.

Amelia changed her sanitary items and scooped up cold water to wash her face, finally fully awake.

Christopher had come...

So, were they to share a room for the night, or should she drive back now?

Her body was uncomfortable; she really didn’t want to move.

Sigh...

After hiding in the restroom for a few minutes, she still opened the door and stepped out.

Christopher was at Hope’s bedside when he heard the door open and turned around.

The ward’s lights were off, but the corridor lighting and the night vista outside the window were enough for them to see each other clearly.

He walked over, and the silence in the room made the air seem thin, even breathing felt constricted.

"It’s late; you should sleep. Lack of rest will give you a headache tomorrow," Christopher spoke up first.

Amelia’s heart stirred slightly, her eyes reflecting surprise.

Every time she had her period, poor sleep would cause her headaches—surprisingly, he remembered.

Already hesitant, his concern now made her feel even more conflicted, and she instinctively wanted to flee.

"Well... now that you’re here, I should go back. There’s a meeting early tomorrow," she said, preparing to sidestep him to grab her things.

But Christopher caught her arm in a firm grip.

"It’s the middle of the night, and you’re in this condition. Isn’t driving back a hassle?"

"I’m fine..."

He stared at the defiant woman, then whispered softly, "Your temper hasn’t changed, still as stubborn as ever."

"..."

Silent now, Christopher pulled her towards the caregiver’s bed.

"What are you doing? I don’t want to argue with you in the middle of the night, you—"

Her words were cut off as he pressed his hands onto her shoulders and sat her down on the bed.