Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 329 Christopher Hart’s Transformation

Chapter 329: Chapter 329 Christopher Hart’s Transformation

Jacob Garcia is here.

Amelia Garcia saw her half-brother appear and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

The things she’d just said were merely to scare Michael Garcia.

Risking the law for such a scumbag wasn’t worth it.

Once Jacob Garcia convinced him to leave today, she’d buy herself some time to figure out how to deal with this beast of a father.

"What are you here for? Haven’t you been ignoring my calls? And now you suddenly show up?" Michael Garcia was startled to see his son, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time, but his surprise quickly turned to fury.

"I—" Jacob Garcia opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Michael Garcia suddenly seemed to have a realization. His gaze shifted between his daughter and son before narrowing craftily, "Big Sis? When did you get so chummy with her? Did she call you here?"

"Dad, I—"

"Oh, well done, you little brat, you’re really something!" Michael Garcia pointed at his older daughter emphatically and then tried to stir up trouble with his son. "She got your mom thrown into prison, and now you’re helping her? Did a donkey kick you in the head?" Before finishing his sentence, he smacked his son violently on the head.

"Dad!" Jacob Garcia couldn’t dodge it and was struck soundly; his head rang loudly as he nearly jumped from the pain. "We’re here to talk about your issues—why are you bringing that up!"

"You can’t tell right from wrong, so I need to knock some sense into you first!" Michael Garcia caught hold of his son and began punching and kicking him. Jacob Garcia couldn’t strike back at his own father, so he had no choice but to jump around, dodging him.

"Dad, calm down, will you! Stop with the nonsense; let’s just go home already!" Jacob Garcia pleaded while dodging, shielding his head.

But Michael Garcia turned a deaf ear.

Emma Carter watched the scene unfold like a farcical play and called the butler, ordering, "Get all these people out of here! What kind of trash are they bringing into my house?"

The butler and the maids approached and restrained Michael Garcia.

"What are you doing? Let go of me! I’m disciplining my son!"

"Then take him home and discipline him there!" George Hart finally lost patience, his presence brimming with fury.

Michael Garcia hadn’t managed to respond before Jacob Garcia grabbed hold of him, "Let’s go, Dad! Go home and discipline me all you want, okay?"

"No! I’m not leaving! I haven’t gotten the money yet – I’m staying right here!"

"Dad! Why should they give you money? Have some self-respect, will you!" Jacob Garcia snapped and tugged him several times but couldn’t move him, and suddenly let go in frustration.

Michael Garcia, pulled back violently, was abruptly released, causing him to stagger back several steps and nearly fall to the ground.

Seeing his son take sides against him, Michael Garcia erupted into a thunderous rage. The conflict in the room shifted sharply—

"You worthless little brat! I’m your father! And this is how you treat me? Why am I asking for money? Isn’t it all for you? Look at yourself—how old are you, and still a failure! Your mom’s sitting in prison, and if I don’t make a living for you, who will?"

Jacob Garcia frowned deeply, unmoved. "I have hands and feet; I can earn my own money. If you’re saying it’s for me, then there’s even less reason. I don’t want the money you’ve scammed from others! Let’s go!"

"You—"

Jacob Garcia moved forward to drag him again. The father and son pushed and pulled, teetering on the verge of another fight.

"Hey, you two! Just enjoying the show, or are you coming over here to help?" Jacob Garcia, unable to handle his significantly heavier father, turned to the two guards standing idly by for help.

The guards: "..."

"Don’t worry! I’m here; I’ll vouch for you! My dad won’t be able to scam you!"

The guards glanced at Christopher Hart, who gave them a signal. Instantly, three guards stepped forward.

The four of them divided tasks and directly carried the uncooperative Michael Garcia out the door.

"Emma Carter! George Hart! You people abuse your wealth—you’ll face consequences for this, just wait and see!"

"Amelia Garcia, you little brat, you’re just like your mother—you can’t stand to see me do well! And Jacob Garcia, you useless fool, now I get it... You and that brat have joined forces against me, haven’t you?"

"Fine, fine, fine, you’ve got guts, you opportunistic little runt! But don’t think they’ll care about you! Idiot, you don’t even know who’s truly on your side!"

"If I don’t get money today, I’ll come back! Amelia Garcia, unless you sign the agreement, I’ll show up every day! I won’t stop until I get the money!"

His voice grew fainter and fainter as everyone’s expressions shifted.

Emma Carter was so angered that she felt faint. She clutched her forehead as her body swayed, and a maid nearby hurriedly supported her. "Madam, are you alright? Please go back inside and rest."

Emma Carter turned back but froze momentarily when her eyes glanced at her son sitting in a wheelchair.

Amelia Garcia happened to catch sight of this.

"You..." She lowered her voice and spoke to the man, "Since you’ve been discharged, you should go see your parents. I’ll go home and look after the kids first. Later, I’ll send them to come pick you up."

"There’s no need—" He reflexively refused.

But before he could finish his sentence, Amelia Garcia cut him off again. "Don’t be like this. They are your closest family. If being with me means opposing them, then I am truly sinful—plus, we have two sons together. You wouldn’t want to ’set an example’ and have them grow up to be like you, would you?"

That last remark hit Christopher Hart right in the heart.

He gazed deeply at the woman and cautioned her, "Then you go ahead first. Don’t overthink it; I’ll take care of these troubles myself."

"Alright, I’m fine." Amelia Garcia replied.

Emma Carter and the others watched as Amelia Garcia turned and left on her own, her expression showing faint surprise.

This woman... She does have some tact.

Christopher Hart’s intelligent wheelchair moved smoothly forward to the doorstep.

"Mom... how is your health holding up?"

Emma Carter, seeing her son hadn’t left with Amelia Garcia, felt somewhat mollified, her dignity partially salvaged.

Yet for her to suddenly switch to a gentle demeanor was impossible.

She withdrew into the house, throwing out a cold remark, "Finally remembered you have a mother, did you?"

Christopher Hart: "..."

Wendy Hart stepped forward.

She hadn’t used her wheelchair today.

She seemed to be in better spirits than before, but her figure was still thin and frail. Even under a thick coat, she gave the impression of drifting like a leaf in the wind.

"Christopher... You’ve seen it now, haven’t you? The Garcia Family—they’re all the same kind of people! Are you really still so stubborn? That Michael Garcia—he’s more vile than a common thug! If you don’t break it off with Amelia Garcia, our family will never have peace again!" Wendy Hart approached her brother, speaking fiercely.

George Hart looked sternly at his son and sighed heavily, "Wendy is right. It’s not just us opposing this anymore; even her father doesn’t want her to marry you. And if he did agree, it’d come with outrageous demands. This kind of person is insatiably greedy—a bottomless pit!"

Christopher Hart lowered his gaze, his face calm and indifferent.

He had planned to burst out, but recalling Amelia’s words, he restrained himself. He only looked up at his family and said steadily, "I’ll handle these issues one by one and make sure none of you are troubled by him again."

Wendy Hart exploded at those words, "Christopher! How could... You think she’s worth it? You’re throwing away a good life just to keep cleaning up her messes. What’s in it for you? Do you mean to say that all of us together don’t matter as much to you as Amelia Garcia?"

Christopher Hart looked at his sister and replied quietly, "And three children..."

The implication was clear: if one were to weigh importance—perhaps four outweigh three.