Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 254: Are You Here to Murder Me?

Chapter 254: Chapter 254: Are You Here to Murder Me?

""""

..." He was silent, his expression unchanging.

"Think carefully now, if you don’t drink today, I’ll never come again."

"Then don’t come. Just take the children and leave." He finally spoke up, stating his position.

Amelia’s expression changed slightly as she frowned at him. After a long silence, she smiled and said, "I thought you would play the pity card with your current state, to make me feel guilty, so that I would wait on you hand and foot... But it turns out, you’ve completely given up, letting me go free..."

She looked incredulous, pausing before continuing with sarcasm, "It seems your brain really is damaged. You’re nothing like the old Christopher Hart."

... The man pressed his lips tightly and his face tensed, obviously holding back.

"But whether you’re the old Christopher Hart or not, since I’ve taken the trouble to cook soup for you, you’ll have to drink it obediently. At the very least, I have to set a good example in front of the children, otherwise they’ll think their mother is heartless—in their father’s state, mother is neglectful."

She deliberately finished with a challenging tone and re-offered the spoon to the man’s lips, her voice tinged with impatience, "Hurry up and drink, I don’t have all day to spend with you."

Christopher could no longer bear it, "Since you don’t want to come, and no one’s forcing you!"

"I told you, I have to maintain a good image in front of the children!"

"Then you’ve delivered it, and you can leave."

The woman replied lazily but assertively, "That won’t do. I have to see you drink it with my own eyes, otherwise if you dump it, my efforts would be wasted."

... Christopher once again swallowed his anger, his generally vacant gaze sharpening, "Do you think provoking me like this is effective?"

"Why should I provoke you? What does your well-being have to do with me?" she retorted dispassionately.

...

She pressed on, "Christopher, if you weren’t the father of my three children, do you think I would even bother to see you now?"

... He was still silent, but his expression had turned to shocked coldness.

"Moreover, you know very well how much you’ve wronged me in the past, don’t you think it’s time to make amends? You should cooperate with my act, so the children will think their mother has done right by their father—this is your responsibility and duty."

Amelia had said what needed to be said, using threats and provocations, running out of patience, she commanded angrily, "Drink!"

The man’s lips drew in, showing a mix of grievance and submission. After a few seconds of standoff, he finally opened his mouth.

Amelia mentally sneered as the soup went in.

Angered, her actions were far from gentle; it was as if she’d poured the soup in.

Christopher, blind, didn’t see how much she ladled, and was taken by surprise, choking on it.

"Cough... Cough cough—"

The sudden coughing shook his injured body, spasming and convulsing as his face quickly turned red, his eyes and brows brimming with pain.

"Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?" Terrified, Amelia quickly put down the soup bowl, not daring to touch him, and turned to look for a doctor.

Hearing her leave, Christopher pressed through his pain to call her back, "Come back!"

She turned, her face full of hesitation and anxiety, "Are... are you really okay?"

The man lay there, gradually calming down, though he still coughed occasionally.

Seeing him drenched in sweat, Amelia, in the end, couldn’t bear it, picked up a towel, and gently wiped his face and head with care.

Christopher felt her tender attention and mysteriously, a sense of comfort washed over him.

He heard from Benny Palmer that she had been back for some days now but had never had a change of heart—no matter how sincerely he showed his feelings, she discarded them like rubbish, determined to sever ties.

So today’s treatment could be considered a blessing in disguise.

"Does it... hurt a lot?" Seeing his brow not relax for a while, Amelia put the towel back and asked softly.

Christopher Hart didn’t respond but retorted with a touch of irony, "It looks to me like you’re not here out of kindness but out of spite, deliberately seeking revenge as if to commit murder."

"Hah! If I wanted to murder you, I wouldn’t have saved you at all!" Amelia Garcia picked up the soup bowl again, dropped that remark, and the spoon headed towards his mouth once more.

This time, the movement was much gentler and careful, like feeding a baby.

Christopher drank the soup, his eyes "looking" towards her, "Saved me? What do you mean?"

Amelia had not intended to talk about these matters, but seeing him so self-destructive and overwhelmed by negative emotions, she felt it was still right to speak up.

"The night we rushed to save you, the blood bank was in urgent need of A-type blood. The doctors were racing against time, and every second counted. Your father, though a blood match, couldn’t donate due to his own health. It was I who donated three bags of blood to sustain you until the blood center could deliver more."

Christopher was taken aback, the spoon brought to his lips remained untouched.

Amelia did not urge him on but continued, "So, Christopher Hart, you can say your life was saved by me, too. If you’re intent on wasting away, living in chaos, you’ll need to see if I even agree to that."

The man didn’t speak, his face a picture of complex emotions.

The woman tapped his lips with the spoon, signaling him to keep drinking.

He spoke, but it wasn’t to drink the soup. Instead, he asked, "Weren’t you eager to leave me? Why save me then?"

Amelia, angered by the question, said, "Just because I don’t want to be with you doesn’t mean I wish you dead! In that situation, any person with a conscience would do the same, wouldn’t they?"

After saying this, she grew impatient again, "Are you drinking or not? My arm is feeling sore from holding it up!"

Christopher finally opened his mouth and, after drinking some soup, continued, "So... now my body has your blood in it."

Amelia, fearing he might overthink it, said irritably, "Your body has many people’s blood in it."

""He had no response to that, leaving him speechless.

The hospital room fell silent, only the occasional sound of the spoon hitting the ceramic bowl was heard.

The man, who had been irritable for days, seemed tamed like a wild animal, obediently opening his mouth bite after bite, quickly finishing the bowl of soup.

"Want more?"

He said nothing, but the active bobbing of his Adam’s apple clearly showed he wasn’t quite finished yet.

Amelia wore an utterly scornful and speechless expression on her face but turned around to pour another bowl of soup nonetheless.

Suddenly, she thought, it was quite good that he couldn’t see.

That way, she could roll her eyes at him heartily, pull faces, show expressions of disdain and contempt—after all, he couldn’t see it, haha!

She proceeded to feed him the second bowl of soup.

It had been many years since the two had coexisted so peacefully.

She took the opportunity to unabashedly stare at his face, her gaze silently tracing his eyebrows, his face, his nose, his lips, and even the distinct line of his jaw without missing anything.

The sunny and handsome face from her memories slowly merged with the mature and austere one before her.

She couldn’t help but sigh quietly in her heart, life is indeed full of uncertainties; who could have imagined Christopher Hart being so pitiable that he couldn’t even take care of himself.

Actually, despite her cutting sarcasm earlier, deep down, she could understand him.

Such an earth-shattering change would be hard for anyone to accept, let alone Christopher Hart, who had always been high and mighty.

Ah... But no matter what one becomes, life must go on.

So, she still hoped this man would pull himself together soon.

Whether he could ever return to looking like a normal person, at least mentally and emotionally, he should be like one.

He wasn’t done after the second bowl of soup.

But Amelia didn’t plan to continue feeding him.

"Your body is special; you can’t drink too much at once. There’s some left in the thermos. Later, if you feel like having more, have the nurse warm it up and feed it to you," Amelia said, noticing his fondness for the soup.

Christopher responded with a barely audible "Hmm," then paused, before asking, "Are you... leaving?"

Amelia observed his expression.

Clearly, he was reluctant to let her go.

He had just driven her away, hadn’t he? "My mission is accomplished, so naturally I won’t stay to be a nuisance—oh, you can’t see now."

After saying that, for some reason, she suddenly waved her hand in front of his eyes again.

Feeling the air move across his cheek, Christopher asked in a strange tone, "What are you doing?"

"I’m verifying whether you really can’t see!"

"..." The man was clearly speechless, showing displeasure on his face, "Aren’t normal people supposed to avoid my sore spot? What’s the meaning of constantly doing this?"

"Well, you said ’normal people,’ but I think you’re the one acting abnormally."

"..." Christopher was angered again.

Amelia picked up her bag, ready to leave.

Only when she saw he was upset did she lazily explain, "Rest assured, I’m not that twisted to intentionally sprinkle salt on someone’s wound. I’m just worried that you might suddenly regain your sight and pretend to be blind to garner sympathy."

He was so shocked his tone changed, "Was I that kind of person before?"

"Worse! You were even more shameless than this before!"

"..." The man was so angry that he gritted his teeth and turned his head away. "You can go now."

"Don’t worry, I don’t want to stay a second longer!"

Before her words fell, the woman turned and left.

As Christopher felt her departure, almost at the instant she turned around, he quickly looked back, his lips moving slightly.

It was as if he wanted to stop her but didn’t dare to speak up.

Soon after, his face betrayed obvious disappointment and dejection.

But Amelia couldn’t leave smoothly.

—Because when she opened the door, Emma Carter stood outside, about to enter.

Their eyes met, both startled.

However, Amelia quickly regained her composure, her expression calm and indifferent, preparing to let the person outside in and then leave herself.

But Emma had other plans.

"What are you doing here again?" After the initial surprise, Emma began with a reprimand and mockery, "After all the ugly words, have you no shame? Can’t you leave Christopher alone?"

As soon as his mother’s voice came through, Christopher immediately spoke up, "Mom! I asked her to come!"

Following behind Emma was a servant carrying a thermos.

Seeing her son defending Amelia as usual, she turned around, took the thermos to signify the servant to leave, and glared at Amelia. "You’re nothing but a ’Fox Spirit’! You’ve bewitched Christopher to the point that he doesn’t even recognize his own mother!"

Amelia chuckled, "You really flatter me, thinking I have that much influence."

"You—" Emma was left speechless with anger.

At that moment, Amelia’s phone rang.

She answered in English, saying, "I’m at the hospital, about to leave. Okay... I understand, I’ll see you soon."

Undoubtedly, it was a call from Kane.

On the hospital bed, Christopher’s face instantly darkened.

But before he could speak, the woman at the doorway continued her phone call and walked away, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Emma, so angry she could have a heart attack, but helpless, could only close the door and enter with the thermos.

She had barely set the thermos down when she noticed another one on the nightstand. Without a second thought, she snatched that thermos and tossed it into the trash.

With a "clang," Christopher was startled.

"Mom, what did you throw away?"

"Just some trash."

"Did you throw away the thermos from the nightstand?"

Emma turned to look at her son, almost believing he had regained his sight.

Seeing his mother’s silence, Christopher knew he was right.

"Pick it back up, there’s still soup in it."

"I’ve brought you soup. I picked fresh ingredients from the market this morning and made it myself."

"Pick it back up. I want the soup from that thermos." His face turned towards his mother, his tone unchanged, repeating himself.

Emma stood still, grinding her teeth in secrecy, both angry and heartbroken.

How could she have raised such a son!

The atmosphere in the ward was heavy, at a stalemate.

Despite nearly crying with anger, Emma looked at her son’s rigid, uncompromising face and begrudgingly turned to retrieve the discarded thermos from the trash.

She slammed it down on the nightstand.

"Christopher, your father is so angry he refused to visit you today! Must you act like this? What on earth does that woman have that bewitches you so?"

Christopher didn’t respond but instead asked, "What exactly is so bad about Amelia that you all are filled with prejudice and hostility towards her?"

"Do you need a reason to dislike someone?"

"Then do I need a reason to like someone?"

"..." Emma was at a loss for words.

"Besides... there are three children between us."

At the mention of the children, Emma was even more incensed, "With you in this state, the children are registered under her name. Do they even have anything to do with you?"

"Her being here to see me says it all." If Amelia really was as cold and heartless as his parents claimed, wouldn’t she have taken the children and left long ago, rather than waiting for him to wake up?

Seeing his mother remain silent, Christopher stated again, "Mom, in this life, aside from her, I will not be involved with any other woman. It doesn’t matter if you don’t accept it, I don’t care whether you do or not."

Angered, Emma stamped her foot hard, "I should be like your father and wish you dead! Why do I bother coming here to be upset!"

With that, she didn’t care whether her son ate or not, angrily turned, and left.

To her surprise, as soon as she opened the door, she was startled by the figure standing there.

Amelia was also stunned for a moment before she sheepishly explained, "Uh... I left some documents behind. I came back to get them..."

Hearing her voice, Christopher on the bed abruptly turned his head toward her, his eyes regaining some luster.

Emma, seeing the woman before her and thinking about her son’s words that must have been overheard, her face turned an even deeper shade of red and green. She roughly brushed past Amelia, still furious, and left.