Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 287: Concealing the News of Regaining Sight

Chapter 287: Chapter 287: Concealing the News of Regaining Sight

Amelia Garcia received a call from Lucas King on the night before her business trip.

"Mrs. Hart, I’ve contacted that writer, but they refuse to delete their work." As soon as the call went through, there was a troubled tone in Lucas King’s voice, bringing not-so-good news.

Amelia was puzzled, "Why? The person involved disagrees with the continuation of the writing, why won’t they delete it?"

Lucas King said, "With such high popularity, which writer would be willing to let go? Moreover, it’s said that they’ve also signed an agreement with the platform, and she herself is a screenwriter, with a great possibility of film and television adaptation later on—asking her to delete it at this time... Who would be willing?"

Indeed...

Amelia thought about it, the novels that other writers created were just like the designs she, as a designer, made; both were the condensation of one’s own efforts.

Now, with good market response, it represented fame and profit—asking someone to give that up would certainly be difficult.

"I understand, send me her contact details, I’ll talk to her personally." Amelia thought, since it was a matter of interest, she could solve it with money.

Lucas King then sent over the other party’s phone number.

Amelia was packing her luggage at the moment, preparing to take an early flight to Zurich the next morning.

Looking at that number, she went to the bedroom balcony, did not hesitate much, and dialed it.

"Hello," the call connected, and a sweet and soft female voice came through, catching her off guard.

She knew the other party was a woman, but didn’t expect—so young?

"Hello, Miss Davies. I’m Christopher Hart’s ex-wife, the prototype of the female lead in your novel. I would like to take a bit of your time to talk."

She announced her identity and made her intentions clear, straight to the point.

The other party showed no sign of surprise and simply replied, "Oh, it’s you... So you’ve come to make me delete the story?"

Before Amelia could respond, she took control of the conversation, "You don’t have to bother persuading me. You’re a jewelry designer, I’ve been following you, and your company has recently been in a lawsuit with a competitor for plagiarizing your designs."

"As creators, we should empathize with each other. To some extent, our works are our ’children.’ When your ’child’ was stolen, you did everything to take it back, and yet now, you’re asking me to kill my ’child’—Mrs. Hart, do you think that’s possible?"

Amelia did not expect this person to speak with a delicate voice, sounding like a young girl, yet acted decisively, logically, and sharply.

She smiled a little, "Your analogy is quite interesting. I know it’s a difficult request, so I’m willing to compensate you. Let’s see... How much would you consider fair?"

"Name a price? Heh, I’m an emotional genre writer; I’ve written many stories about torturous love affairs in wealthy families. Never thought that one day, I’d find myself in such a situation—rich people really do solve everything with money..."

When she sensed the other’s sarcasm, Amelia paused a moment, her tone becoming a few degrees more sincere: "Miss Davies, I know my request is somewhat unreasonable, but since you understand my past with Christopher, you should know that our journey has not been easy."

"Now, he’s nearly incapacitated. I have to take care of him, our three children, and my career... My life had just settled a bit, yet I still navigate through thorns. I’m worried that if your work gets too popular, it will disrupt our hard-earned peace again. Public opinion or internet exposure can invisibly yet massively hurt people, so I’m sincerely asking you, please delete that novel."

The other party sighed, her words conceding somewhat: "It’s not that I have no empathy, but I feel... precisely because Mr. Hart is in his current state, all the more your novel should exist."

"If one day he can’t remember the past, having this work remain might serve as some consolation for him. Actually, when I first communicated with Mr. Hart, I did indeed take it as a job, but as I continued writing, I was truly moved by my own characters. I have a responsibility to my readers, and I don’t want this story to be unjustly ended prematurely."

"Miss Davies..."

"Mrs. Hart, actually, you could be more optimistic. Judging from the current reactions of the readers, what they are seeing is the beauty of love. I also believe, after all you and Mr. Hart have been through, eventually, all will be well. In the end, this work will serve as a testament to your unwavering love."

"You really are a writer, imagining emotions to be too idyllic." Could the term "unwavering love" even describe what she and Christopher Hart had been through?

"Perhaps, but if you don’t see beauty, how can you express it?"

Amelia remained silent, and the writer named Davies chuckled before suddenly changing the subject: "I quite ship you two. When Mr. Hart told me everything about you guys, I was deeply captivated. He messed up, but his love for you was real. I think, in my eyes, fixing a broken mirror is even more unforgettable and valued than consistent loyalty from the start. Why not give each other another chance?"

"To be beautiful alone is fine, but women only force themselves to be indestructible when there’s no support. If there is support, why torture yourself? I believe, nourished by Mr. Hart’s rich soil, you will bloom even more beautifully."

This was the first time Amelia had a conversation with a writer, and she found the rhetoric somewhat melodramatic, reminiscent of Qiong Yao’s style, "It seems like, you have a good impression of him."

"He’s handsome, and that alone is enough to create a good impression. But don’t misunderstand me, I’m purely into looks, and I love my husband."

She’s married? Amelia was surprised again.

"Alright... If Mr. Hart himself comes to me, hoping for the novel to be taken down and deleted, I would consider it. But if it’s just your own idea, I’m sorry, but I can’t accept it."

Long after the call had ended, Amelia stood on the balcony in the cold wind.

She thought her heart had long been barren, and she had given up hope on love and men.

Yet now, she found herself unexpectedly stirred by a stranger’s few words...

An unexplained longing welled up within her.

But what exactly she yearned for, she couldn’t quite say.

Impulsively, she reopened the serialized novel on a certain platform—the story had progressed to the female lead being framed by the male lead’s sister, with his entire family mistrusting her...

How curious.

She never thought that in her lifetime she would become the prototype for a novel’s female lead, reliving her own life experiences from a reader’s perspective.

————

The next day, Amelia Garcia got up early to catch the plane.

While she was waiting in the airport terminal, handling work on her phone, it rang.

It was a call from the Imperial Garden.

"Eh? It’s only seven o’clock, and he’s awake already?"

"Hello, why are you up so early?"

On the other end, Christopher’s voice was low and gentle, "Have you arrived at the airport?"

"Yeah. I’ll be boarding soon."

There was silence on the other end, no response.

Amelia held the phone to her ear with one hand while the other tapped on the notebook in front of her, dealing with work matters.

Realizing there was only breathing on the line and the person wasn’t speaking, she stopped her busyness and asked, "What is it, you call and then don’t say anything?"

"It’s nothing, just thinking about you going over there, are you going to meet that foreigner again?"

"Foreigner?" The woman was stunned for a second, then suddenly understood, "You mean Kane?"

"Uh-huh."

His simple "uh-huh" was filled with awkwardness and a hint of jealousy.

Amelia remembered saying he was possessive the other day, her face showing a touch of helplessness, "I don’t know, probably not..."

"He has been persistent for so long, won’t he look for you now that you’re returning to headquarters?"

"He’s already left Venus, he might not even know I’m going back, why would he look for me?"

"You haven’t been in contact with him?"

"..." Amelia looked down, sighed internally, ran a hand through her hair, her face weighed down with resignation, "Did you call me early in the morning just to probe whether I’ve been in touch with him?"

"What, is that not allowed?"

"It’s boring. I’m about to board the plane, hanging up!"

He became anxious, quickly admonishing, "You... try to come back as soon as possible."

"I know."

"You must contact me every day, at least one phone call."

"Mr. Hart, I’m very busy every day, okay? Besides, we have a time difference..."

"Those are just excuses."

"..." Amelia couldn’t be bothered with him, packing her things with one hand while turning back to Shaw to signal it was time to go, "Enough, you go back to sleep, hanging up now."

Shaw followed with her suitcase, snickering mischievously, "Looks like someone is going to be anxious and restless these next few days..."

"What, are you sympathetic?" Amelia joked with her assistant.

"Heh, it’s not my place to be sympathetic. But watching the two of you go back and forth, the romance slowly heating up, is like following a drama series, it’s quite exciting."

Shaw’s words made Amelia think of what the writer said last night, her expression falling into contemplation.

They say that those involved are too close to see clearly; could it be that her relationship with Christopher really resembles that of a couple in love?

When she posed this question to Shaw, the latter stiffened her neck and gave her a sidelong glance, "How is anything between you like being in love?"

Amelia was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she heard her assistant say, "You guys are clearly like an old married couple, alright!"

"..."

Inside the Imperial Garden, Christopher, having hung up the phone, had a profound gaze, intently fixating on the winter morning light seeping through the curtains.

People only realize how precious something is once it’s lost.

Like love.

Like light.

If he had never lost Amelia, he would not know the taste of a heart like a desert, nor the agony of the endless passage of time.

If he had never lost his sight, he would not understand how beautiful each new dawn is, nor how precious everything before his eyes is.

Fortunately, Heaven had given a punishment as well as a compensation, allowing him to understand what truly matters in life.

The door to the room sounded, and he slowly closed his eyes again.

The caretaker came in, saw he was still sleeping, tidied up the garbage bin beside the bed, then quietly turned and left.

Christopher opened his eyes once more, staring at the brightening light outside the window, never getting enough of it.

He did not intend for the time being to let others know of his regained vision.

In a few days when Amelia returned, he wanted to see how that woman had been taking care of him in a world he could not see.

Just the thought filled his heart with anticipation, and the sexy, charming corner of his mouth couldn’t help but curve into a slight smile.