Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 308: Bitterness Strategy is Very Useful

Chapter 308: Chapter 308: Bitterness Strategy is Very Useful

After passing security, Amelia realized they weren’t taking a business-class flight back home.

To her surprise, Christopher had arranged for a Gulfstream private jet.

Snow, already curious when she boarded the jet, couldn’t resist coming over to ask, "Didn’t your Mr. Hart transfer all his assets to you? Yet he can still afford a private jet? Or did he already own one before?"

Amelia looked perplexed; she had no idea.

During their three years as husband and wife, Christopher’s wealth could easily have purchased countless private jets, yet he hadn’t bought a single one.

Back then, plenty of wealthy young heirs indulged in ostentatious extravagance—buying jets, yachts, employing every luxurious, high-profile method to showcase their status.

But Christopher never joined in.

He seemed only to care about cars.

The underground parking garage at the Imperial Garden was filled with an uncountable variety of luxury vehicles.

Unfortunately, in his current physical state, no matter how many cars he owned, he could no longer drive them himself.

"I suppose you don’t know either..." Snow sighed when her best friend remained silent, her expression more puzzled than Snow’s. Then, admiring him, Snow added, "Taking everything out for you—what devotion! Too bad—ow!"

Her words were cut short as Amelia pinched her hard at the waist, nearly making her jump.

"Why’d you pinch me?!" Snow protested.

Amelia glanced at her coolly. "How much is Christopher paying you to sing his praises? You’re about ready to kiss his boots!"

Snow gritted her teeth. "You’re really ungrateful! I just don’t want you to stubbornly ignore your own feelings, miss out on happiness, and live with lifelong regret!"

Amelia stubbornly replied, "My happiness is in my own hands; it doesn’t depend on any man."

"Fine, fine, you’ve been angry these past few days, won’t listen to anyone. I won’t bother wasting my breath."

When boarding, Amelia initially felt tense. However, upon seeing the setup inside the private jet—comparable to a presidential suite of a seven-star hotel—her attention was immediately drawn elsewhere.

Snow chuckled. "Thanks to you, I wouldn’t experience such luxury in this lifetime otherwise."

Amelia gathered herself and caught up with Snow. "Where will you sit? I’ll join you."

"Sure!" Snow readily agreed.

Amelia smirked to herself, thinking Christopher had miscalculated this time.

Hadn’t he said quite firmly that Snow wouldn’t want her to sit together?

But her smugness lasted only a few minutes before her best friend betrayed her.

Christopher’s wheelchair was brought onboard after them, but Amelia pretended not to see, picking up a magazine and feigning disinterest. She had no intention of looking his way.

The magazine covered most of her face, so she didn’t notice Snow getting up.

By the time she sensed movement beside her, she turned, only to find Christopher already seated next to her, assisted by Lucas and Young Master Palmer.

The magazine slipped from her grasp. She craned her neck and widened her eyes in disbelief. "Snow! You—"

She tried to get up, only for her wrist to be grabbed by a firm hand.

Turning back, her expression became awkward.

Christopher looked up at her, his ridiculously handsome face breaking into a smile. "Miss Fitch seems quite taken with that attendant. She was chatting him up enthusiastically earlier. Best not interrupt her—after all, she is, technically, an aging singleton."

"She’s hitting on the attendant?" Amelia was taken aback.

Christopher didn’t answer, but his lips curled faintly as he tilted his chin in the man’s direction.

Amelia followed his gaze.

Sure enough, Snow was giggling coquettishly while asking the tall flight attendant for a glass of juice.

This...

Her wrist suddenly throbbed from Christopher’s grasp. Snapping out of her thoughts, she glared angrily at him. "What are you doing? You’re hurting me!"

"Who were you staring at just now?" Christopher asked in a deep tone.

"..." Amelia was momentarily guilty.

Truth be told, Snow had impeccable taste! That attendant wasn’t only long-legged but handsome—he looked like Henry Cavill! Young, vibrant, utterly captivating!

Even Amelia couldn’t help but steal a few glances.

"You’re a mother of three now. Best to keep your heart in check," Christopher tightened his grip and pulled her back into her seat, his words tinged with bitterness.

Amelia fumed and muttered to herself, "Looking isn’t illegal. Besides, I’m a single mother!" Implying she was just as entitled to flirt as Snow was.

"Oh? You really want to find yourself a pretty boy?"

Amelia didn’t answer, glancing slyly over her shoulder and sneering coldly.

If she truly wanted to, it wouldn’t be unlawful or immoral—why not?

"What are you laughing at?" Christopher’s displeasure was evident as he withdrew his gaze, muttering, "You have a handsome man right here, yet you’re looking at others. What bad taste!"

Hearing his muttering, Amelia turned her head in disbelief.

This man...

Such a narcissist!

He was an old man with a ridiculous habit of unwarranted jealousy, and now he had the gall to call himself a handsome man!

Unable to resist, she shot back, "They’re younger than you."

"I’m more mature, steady, and charming."

"They’re gentle and good-natured."

"When you’re not making me mad, I am as refined as jade and polite as a gentleman."

Ugh—Amelia shivered, her skin crawling, but she wouldn’t back down. "They..."

"Say one more word, and I’ll shut you up," Christopher cut her off, his eyes glinting dangerously with a smirk.

Amelia froze, her gaze landing on his face and lingering on the threatening curve of his lips...

She had no doubt he’d do exactly that!

After staring for two seconds, her cheeks flushed unexpectedly. Turning away hastily, she grumbled, "You’re sick."

Christopher might indeed be sick, but she knew deep down the sicker one was herself.

Just yesterday, she’d hated him, cursed him, and couldn’t bear to speak to him, wishing only to return home and sever all ties. Yet now, somehow, they were bickering.

And not just any bickering—it was petty and childish, akin to flirting!

Realizing this, Amelia felt a wave of disgust.

Not disgusted with Christopher, but with herself.

Her stance seemed to be wavering, unclear and dangerous. Continuing like this would only make matters more tangled in the future.

No, she couldn’t allow herself to spiral, sinking into the old fox’s sweet but venomous traps.

For her children and herself, she must hold firm!

In a flash, she locked up her hesitant, wavering feelings, repaired the cracked walls around her heart, suppressed her smile, swallowed the words she had wanted to say, and coldly distanced herself.

Christopher, watching closely, immediately noticed her sudden shift.

The thawed amusement at the corners of his eyes and lips seemed to freeze and slowly melt away.

Yet within him, a warmth stirred.

This dimwit still had feelings for him; was he blind not to see?

They had once loved deeply—no one knew better than he the spark and dance in her eyes when her heart was stirred.

The atmosphere grew awkward and stifling until the jet prepared for takeoff.

As the broadcast announced the preparations, Amelia’s distant mind snapped back to reality. Her brows furrowed, her nerves wound tight.

The aircraft started taxiing, gaining speed, until the cabin jolted as the plane tilted skyward.

Despite having taken calming medication and repeatedly assuring herself, the turbulence dragged her into a familiar pit of fear.

Suddenly, her pale fingers digging into the armrest were enveloped by a warm hand, firmly holding hers.

She gasped, her eyes flying open as her gaze traveled up along that comforting hand to the worried and tender face of the man beside her. Her gaze froze.

Christopher had teased her earlier to distract her, but it hadn’t worked.

"The plane is still ascending. The shaking and jolts are normal. Don’t worry; it’ll be fine." He locked eyes with her, his grip secure as he murmured soothingly.

Amelia nodded, but her breath remained rigid, incapable of relaxing.

Unable to unfasten her seatbelt, he couldn’t pull her into his arms, but instead, he shifted closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"What... What are you doing?"

"We’re at this moment, and you’re still giving me attitude?" Christopher rebuked gently, pressing her head into the crook of his arm. "Don’t think about anything. Just relax..."

Though she resisted briefly, the man’s insistence prevailed, and a further jolt from the plane caused her to instinctively bury her face into the hollow of his shoulder, clutching his shirt tightly.

Christopher’s lips curved into a silent smile as he leaned closer, holding her tighter still.

"It’ll be okay. And even if something does happen... I’ll be with you."

Even though Amelia was strung so tight she couldn’t open her eyes, his words compelled her to muster up a rebuttal, "If I were to die beside you, that would be the cruelest punishment heaven could impose!"

"Is that so?" He wasn’t offended but instead gazed down at the ostrich burying herself in his arms, his lips brushing past her elegant ear lightly. "Living and dying as one—I always thought that was the ultimate romance."

Amelia jerked at his accidental kiss. She reflexively covered her ear to shield herself from his teasing proximity.

Her comical reaction only made her seem more endearing in his eyes, filling him with joy.

Though the ascent wasn’t long, Amelia’s anxiety and terror made every second excruciating.

Finally, the plane stabilized.

And high above the clouds, unexpectedly, the skies were clear.

All at once, the ostrich in his arms bolted upright, forcefully pushing him away.

"Ah..." He didn’t dodge in time; her head collided with his chin, drawing a sharp gasp of pain.

"Sorry, sorry..." Amelia clutched her forehead; the sound of bone meeting flesh echoed in her ears. Even so, when she saw his pained expression, guilt softened her attitude, and she apologized.

Christopher took a deep breath, turning his face away coldly. "Use them and break them; kick them away. Quite heartless of you."

"..." Amelia murmured defensively, "It’s... it’s you who forced me to rely on you, not me asking for it..."

"But didn’t you beg me to arrange this return flight?"

"..." This bastard twisted the truth.

Seeing her at a loss for words, Christopher finally felt like he’d won, his lips spreading into a slight smile, his tone softening. "Alright, while the flight is smooth, take a nap."

She didn’t respond but closed her eyes, turning away from him.

Christopher called for the flight attendant, requesting a blanket and gently covering her with it.

The eight-plus-hour flight was torture for his recovering body.

Only when she fell asleep did he finally relax, his expression revealing suppressed anguish.

Unfortunately, the smooth flying didn’t last long. The airplane began to jostle again.

Though Amelia hadn’t truly dozed off, she had tried to distract her fear. But as turbulence returned, she opened her eyes once more.

Assuming he had fallen asleep, she calmed herself slightly, sitting up discreetly to steal a glance at him.

One look, and her heart twisted.

Though he seemed asleep, his face was pallid, his lips faintly bluish, his brows furrowed deeply.

She suddenly remembered Snow mentioning his reliance on painkillers during their previous flight.

Having just recovered slightly over the past two days, he now endured an eight-to-nine-hour journey.

Barely over a month ago, he had suffered severe injuries, undergone multiple major surgeries, and was still healing. Now, he pushed himself recklessly...

Conflicted and anxious, her emotions raged as she hesitated whether to check on him.

The inner struggle lasted long; she couldn’t ignore the fact that his suffering stemmed from her circumstances. In the end, she couldn’t stand by indifferently.

"...Hey... Christopher... Christopher?" Leaning closer, she lightly touched his arm and softly called out his name.

His face still pained, Christopher slowly opened his eyes, his gaze dazed and confused. "What is it? Don’t worry, occasional turbulence is normal."

Even now, his first instinct was to reassure her.

Amelia brushed aside unfamiliar feelings stirred in her chest, her tone softening slightly. "I’m not afraid. What’s wrong with you?"

"Me?" He shifted slightly, his voice hoarse. "I’m fine..."

She pressed, "You look pale."

"Really?" He frowned slightly, managed a faint smile. "Worried about me? That’s not like you."

Catching his clear attempt to evade the question, Amelia couldn’t identify her emotions but stared at him intently, one hand brushing against his side. "Is your back hurting? The surgical incision? Or somewhere else?"

Christopher hadn’t wanted his vulnerability witnessed by her. Yet, being caught, he didn’t bother pretending.

"What if I said... everything hurts. What then?" His somber gaze fixed on the woman beside him as his voice deepened.

Normally, Amelia would accuse him of using pity tactics.

Today, she believed his pain was real.

"So... what can I do to help you feel better?"

She asked sincerely, shocking Christopher, who stiffened, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at her.

"You’re not worried I’m pulling some act to coax sympathy?"

"I have eyes!" She snapped, brushing off his nonsense and scanning for assistance.

The flight attendant came over, thinking she needed something.

"Lucas!" Amelia called, spotting Lucas on his phone, awake. Immediately summoning him.

Lucas froze, startled, and hurried forward.

"Madam?"

"Was he like this before he came here?"

Lucas glanced at his boss and tensed visibly, addressing Christopher. "President Hart... Shall I fetch more painkillers?"

"...Yes..." Christopher responded feebly, hardly opening his eyes, his head drooping.

Lucas retrieved the medicine bottle.

But as he prepared to dispense the tablets, the plane shook violently, throwing him off balance.

The flight attendant stepped in, advising passengers of impending turbulence and the importance of securing their belts.

Amelia snatched the medicine bottle. "You sit down! I’ll give him the pills."

Lucas swiftly retreated, relieved.

Examining the label, Amelia frowned. "This says one pill per dose. Taking two is already excessive... Won’t that harm your health?"

"...Three pills."

"What?" Her brows scrunched in disapproval. "How reckless! We’re on a flight—what if something goes wrong..."

Suppressing agony, Christopher uneasily opened his eyes, smiling faintly despite himself. "Relax. I took that amount coming here. I’ll live."

Amelia shot him an icy glare but reluctantly unscrewed the bottle, dispensing two pills into her palm before hesitating...

"Argue any longer and I’ll pass out from pain."

Grinding her teeth, she added a third pill reluctantly, bringing it to him.

"Feed me."

She glared harder.

Christopher remained unfazed, returning her gaze hazily.

...Hopeless!

Sighing internally, Amelia placed each pill in his mouth and brought the bottled water to his lips.

She was genuinely worried about his exceeding the dosage and refused to return to her seat, remaining beside him to observe carefully.

Christopher still frowned, his striking features taut with tension, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, betraying pain.

Her heart tightened painfully.

They were suspended mid-air, utterly vulnerable. Should something happen to him...

Through closed lids, Christopher nonetheless sensed her unwavering focus on him.

When finally eased by the painkillers, he looked up, repositioning slightly.

"Why?" he teased.

Amelia blinked, withdrawing her eyes. "Nothing..."

"If you’re genuinely concerned, how about letting me hold you?"

Turning to him again, Amelia squinted suspiciously.

This scoundrel... Already scheming?

Smirking faintly, Christopher quipped, "Holding you wouldn’t cure physical pain. But emotionally... It’d offer great comfort, which could indirectly alleviate everything else."

Listening to his unrepentantly absurd logic, Amelia sighed coldly. "I thought I made myself clear yesterday."

Christopher’s mood soured, recalling last night’s tense exchange and icy shared silence. Yet now, she seemed amicable?

His lips twitched slyly. "Harsh words don’t stick, do they? When have yours convinced me otherwise?"

"..."

This shameless man!

They stared silently at each other. Abrupt turbulence crashed them into ominous cloudbursts outside.

Lightning seared unpredictably—both captivating and terrifying.

Amelia stiffened entirely, clenched like prey awaiting imminent capture. Tension mounted amidst Christoper’s grip tightening simultaneously.

"...What are... you enduring?" Amelia choked out worriedly.

"...Painkillers strength unchanged... no emergency..." assured Christopher softly despite visible anguish betraying answers weakly.

Seeing movement indicating discomfort thorough tightening bodies spurred instant resolve.

Strategizing briefly determined steady withheld boundaries crash-composed oriented embrace intertwining surrender comfort mutual splendid preservation whether deliberate honestly intertwined those comforting flickers regardless mutual leaps confusions webs perhaps selfless reckless overwhelming instinct defined moment...

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