Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 317: You’ve been fooled by her!

Chapter 317: Chapter 317: You’ve been fooled by her!

The three kids were all staying at the Imperial Garden. Amelia didn’t overthink it, went home to pack some belongings, and drove straight there.

The children were each doing their own thing—reading, drawing, playing games. The moment they saw their mom come back, the three of them dashed toward her from different directions, encircling her tightly.

"Mom, aren’t you staying with Dad tonight? I thought you weren’t coming back."

"Yeah, Mom... how did Dad, that petty guy, allow you to leave?"

"Ah, stop thinking about Dad. Mom just recovered from her illness; she needs rest. You think hospital beds are comfortable for sleeping?"

"In that case, Mom, can you sleep with Hope tonight?"

"Me too, me too! I missed Mom too. I want her to sleep with me."

"You’re a boy! Why are you still acting so clingy?"

"I’m a baby too! Why can’t Mom sleep with me?"

As the conversation went on, it looked like an argument was about to break out. Amelia had to step in to mediate: "Alright, alright, Mom will sleep with all of you!"

She then turned to her sensible eldest son, ruffling his little head, and asked, "How about you, Noah? Do you want to join?"

"Yes! I miss you too, Mom."

"Okay then, let’s all sleep together tonight!"

"Yay! That’s awesome!"

"But... can our bed fit so many people?"

"Big brother and I are so skinny, of course it can! Second brother, who told you to grow so fat, like a little piglet?"

"I’ve told you, this is muscle! Muscle! Understand?"

"Hmph! Clearly, you’re just chubby and don’t want to admit it."

"Have you looked at yourself lately? You’ve gained weight too, you know? Look at your face—it’s nearly as round as Little Dunham’s."

Hearing Little Dunham’s name, Amelia realized she hadn’t expected that during her time away, someone had even brought the dog to the Imperial Garden.

What’s more, it was well-fed—indeed, it had grown even plumper.

It seemed like calling it Little Dunham was no longer fitting; maybe it should be called Little Roly-Poly instead.

Upon hearing its name, Little Dunham wagged its tail enthusiastically and ran over, circling them and howling as if to say, "Hug me! Hug me too!"

Dragging the three little ones along, Amelia made her way to the living room, feeling both fortunate and at a loss.

At this moment, she almost regretted coming back.

The endless chitter-chatter made her ears buzz—it was simply too noisy!

If she were back in the hospital with that iceberg, at least it would’ve been quieter.

"Alright, alright, stop arguing. You’re all adorable; you’re all Mom’s precious babies. Isn’t that enough?"

"Hmph, Mom’s become an expert in balancing the scales now."

"Exactly. These compliments don’t feel sincere at all."

Amelia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. "Who taught you guys to say things like that?"

"Dad!" Three childish voices chimed in unison, unexpectedly harmonious as they pointed to the "mastermind."

That guy—

Clearly, while she was away, he hadn’t missed a single opportunity to trash talk her behind her back.

"Your dad, honestly. Doesn’t teach you anything good, only the bad stuff."

Aunt Harper walked over with a smile. "Ma’am, have you had dinner yet?"

"I have. Don’t trouble yourself."

"Alright."

To Aunt Harper, she had long regarded the woman before her as the mistress of the household. Naturally, she was always considering things from her perspective.

Seeing the kids swarming around her, Aunt Harper smiled and called out, "Kids, your mom’s had a long day and is tired. Let’s go play some more on our own, okay?"

"No, I want to play with Mom! Mom, let me tell you a story!" Hope hugged her mom’s neck, speaking sweetly.

"Alright."

The little girl slid down from her arms and stood in front of the sofa, starting to vividly tell a story about a T-Rex.

Amelia had thought her daughter would just read a few lines from a picture book and call it a day.

Who would’ve known? The little girl completely surprised her.

Over three minutes of storytelling, and not only did she remember it all, but she also performed with emotion and expression.

When she finished, Hope threw herself back into Amelia’s arms and asked for praise. "Mom, how was it? Will this little T-Rex find his parents?"

"Of course, he will!" Amelia hugged her daughter and asked curiously, "How long did it take you to memorize that story?"

"Not long at all. I listened to it a few times on the audio pen and remembered it," Hope said as if it were no big deal.

Aunt Harper chimed in, "Miss Hope has a remarkable memory. Mr. Hart noticed it early on and even brought in teachers to nurture her ability."

Really?

Amelia cupped her daughter’s face, delight on her face. "That’s incredible, Hope! You’re even better than Mom was as a kid!"

Hearing his sister get praised, the second eldest couldn’t sit still. He clung to his mom’s arm and protested, "That’s nothing. I can recite really long and complicated poems!"

Meanwhile, Noah glanced at his younger siblings vying for Mom’s attention over such trivial "talents." He calmly muttered, "Childish," before turning back to focus on his LEGO project.

The new LEGO robotics set Dad had brought back was incredibly advanced, with its complex sensors and powerful features. He was determined to figure it all out tonight.

The house was bustling and harmonious, but in the corner of the living room ceiling, a surveillance camera slowly rotated.

Christopher lay alone on his hospital bed, watching his family like a voyeur.

From the moment that woman stepped through the door, his face turned stormy and filled with indignation.

Wasn’t this "the cuckoo occupying the nest of the magpie"?

This was clearly his domain, yet now others were occupying it, laughing and joking together.

And he, the rightful owner, was pitifully abandoned in the hospital...

He was clearly upset, but as he watched, he found himself grinning foolishly instead.

His woman, his kids, all gathered in his territory.

This feeling...

How to describe it?

It felt as if the whole world was right in his grasp.

————

The next day, Amelia went to work. After finishing the morning meeting, her secretary came in to report that a woman named Ginny had arrived to see her.

Only then did Amelia remember the "gig" she had agreed to the previous night.

"Bring her to my office and have her wait for me."

"Understood."

After discussing a few more matters with some senior executives, Amelia finally left the meeting room.

Back in her office, she paused for a moment, looking at the petite young woman standing before her. "You’re Ginny?"

The woman was about five-foot-three, petite and delicate, with slightly chubby cheeks. Her features were decent, but overall, she looked... so young.

"Yes, I’m Ginny Davies. Ginny is just my pen name—nice to meet you, Miss Garcia, or... should I call you Mrs. Hart?" Ginny’s eyes lit up as she extended her hand, casually probing Amelia’s current relationship with Christopher.

"Nice to meet you," Amelia said, shaking her hand briefly before gesturing for her to sit while she placed some files on her desk.

"I used to wonder what kind of woman could make such a powerful man obsess over her, even to the extent of doing such childish and ridiculous things. Now that I’ve seen you, I understand." Ginny’s eyes followed Amelia, and her words were nothing but praise.

Amelia set down the documents, turned back to the seating area, and smiled faintly. "So, you’re suggesting he’s just shallow?"

"And you’re implying that President Norton sees himself as a ’premium decoration’?"

After just two sentences of exchange, Amelia’s impression of the young woman changed again.

Though deceivingly youthful in appearance, she was intelligent and sharp at her core.

The implication of Ginny’s words was that Christopher cared about more than just her looks. Otherwise, wouldn’t that suggest Amelia was merely superficial?

Sure enough, Ginny continued, "Your allure isn’t just in your physical beauty—it’s also in your demeanor, taste, and abilities. I believe Mr. Hart’s fixation on you has far deeper roots than appearances."

This was why Amelia had replied that way just now.

She had heard plenty of flattery before, but this style was unique.

"Thank you. Alright, let’s get down to business. What do you want to ask?"

"Oh... hold on!" Ginny quickly pulled out a laptop from her bag, efficiently opening her Mac. "It’s just that I don’t fully understand what happened after you returned to the country. I initially planned to write based on my own ideas but felt it might conflict with Mr. Hart’s intentions."

Amelia was intrigued by the mention of "intentions." "What exactly did he tell you? Even you found his actions childish and absurd, yet you still took on the job?"

Ginny’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she replied without looking up. "When his assistant approached me, I mentioned this was my first time taking on such a bizarre project, but they insisted."

"When I met him, I directly asked about his motives. He said he wanted to win you back. He had tried every method and failed. He also mentioned that public perception about you was harsh, most of it stemming from him, and he didn’t want you to be misunderstood further. Although he didn’t expect such immature measures to touch you or make you change your mind, at the very least, it might lessen the criticism directed at you."

Ginny looked up briefly and added, "I found some details online about your earlier issues being exposed. You’re incredibly strong! Do you know how many people can’t handle cyberbullying and choose to end their lives? Yet, you were unaffected, handled multiple roles, and rebounded stronger, even building a thriving career."

Amelia felt she had merely done what a mother ought to do, but Ginny’s perspective made her seem almost heroic.

"They say art is inspired by life but transcends it. Now I feel like life can surpass art—like this! I’ve written so many romance novels, even considering myself an expert on emotions, but I’ve never crafted a male lead who’s simultaneously domineering, calculating, childish, and heart-wrenchingly pitiable. He’s like an upgraded version of the tragic, beautiful genius archetype!"

"..." Amelia pinched her forehead, suddenly regretting agreeing to this.

This woman was full-on shipping fictional relationships. Was she even here for work?

Her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at it.

It was a message from the culprit himself.

[What are you doing? Come have lunch with me.]

She smirked faintly and replied: [I’m busy.]

[With who? A man or a woman?]

[What’s it to you?!]

In his hospital bed, Christopher stared at his phone screen, his chest tightening with frustration.

This little brat—ever since he had called her out on her feelings the previous night, her tone when speaking to him had gotten noticeably bolder.

He was about to call her to figure out what was going on when the sound of someone knocking on the door interrupted him. He looked up, slightly startled.

It was Wendy, sitting in a wheelchair!

The siblings hadn’t seen each other in a long time. As their eyes met, emotions grew complex.

"Brother..." Wendy called out softly, while the caregiver behind her pushed her into the room.

Before arriving, she had heard that Christopher was injured, blind, and completely immobile. But now, seeing him gaze at her with surprised, steady eyes, she was left dumbfounded.

Could it be—

After a moment of confusion, she asked in shock, "Your eyes... are they healed?"

Christopher didn’t answer immediately. He continued to study her as he searched his memory for images of his sister.

He remembered Wendy hadn’t reached the point of needing a wheelchair before. What had happened since then...

"Brother, your eyes are healed. How could you not tell Mom and Dad about something so important?" Wendy demanded emotionally upon confirming her assumption.

"They don’t care whether my eyes are healed or not. What difference does it make if I tell them?" Christopher finally responded, his tone indifferent.

With that, he glanced at his sister in the wheelchair, his expression puzzled. "Your illness... is it serious? Why are you in a wheelchair?"

At his question, it was Wendy’s turn to look puzzled.

She glanced down at herself and let out a mocking laugh. "So, you really have memory loss. For a while, I thought... you were just pretending to trick that woman into coming back."

Over these past few years, when her condition had worsened to the point where she couldn’t walk, she had relied on a wheelchair. But he had forgotten all of that.

"That woman"—the disparaging term made Christopher’s handsome face grow serious.

"Wendy," he said firmly, his voice steady but resolute, "She is your sister-in-law—she was in the past, and she will be again in the future."

Wendy’s expression changed slightly. "So you’re back together now?"

She had come here to probe into her brother’s relationship with Amelia. She hadn’t expected him to admit it outright before she even asked.

Christopher didn’t answer, as the question demanded no discussion.

Wendy moved her wheelchair closer, urgency creeping into her tone. "Brother, there are so many women in this world who adore you. Why are you so fixated on her? She doesn’t even love you, don’t you see that?"

Christopher’s lips tightened, clearly suppressing his emotions.

"Wendy, I know you were weak and sickly from a young age. We all pampered and spoiled you, which led to your becoming willful and extreme. You saw how kind I was to her and grew jealous, so you orchestrated everything... framing her, making Mom and Dad misunderstand her, and trying to ruin her so that I would have to stay away from her..."

Wendy shook her head vehemently, cutting him off. "No, it wasn’t like that! She deceived you! Brother, why won’t you believe me? Back then, I wasn’t just jealous. I was protecting you because she tricked you!"

"I overheard her telling someone else that she didn’t love you. She said life in the Garcia family was miserable, and because you treated her well, she just put up with it. In your eyes, she was pure and flawless, like a fairy, but in reality, she’s cunning and manipulative, always with an agenda. Just look at all the men who willingly help her and lift her career to its peak—doesn’t that prove something? She’s incredibly calculating!"

"Wendy!" Christopher raised his voice, his expression darkening. He stared at his sister, his tone unyielding as he said, "You’re not just physically ill; your mind is twisted! You should see a therapist."

"Brother!" Wendy was equally enraged, so much so that her eyes were brimming with tears.

After a moment, she raised her hand. "I swear, everything I said is true! If there’s a single lie in it, may I not live past this year!"

"Stop speaking nonsense!"

"I’m not! I’m serious! I heard her say those things to someone in person, and later, when I confronted her about it, she even confessed to me. She said she wouldn’t stay with you and told me that I should try to convince you because there was nothing she could do to change the way you acted."