Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 332: No Matter What Illness You Have, I Want You Anyway!

Chapter 332: Chapter 332: No Matter What Illness You Have, I Want You Anyway!

In the past few months, Christopher’s sweet talk has come effortlessly—romantic, tender, heartfelt, even cheeky, covering all sorts of styles.

But never had his words hit the mark as they did today.

Him noticing this finally proves he’s found the core issue between them.

—A lack of understanding.

Because of a lack of understanding, there’s a lack of trust, leading to misunderstandings and causing pain.

The atmosphere between the two suddenly grew quiet, but the air heated up by a few degrees.

Snow, the bystander munching on popcorn, glanced back and forth, suddenly realizing the light bulb effect was only getting stronger. She stood up abruptly. "Ah! So full, I’m sleepy. I’ll head home for a nap. Won’t disturb your little world anymore!"

She stood up suddenly, which startled Amelia and made her instinctively look over.

"Then... let me walk you to the––"

She began speaking while standing, but before her words were finished and she’d fully stood, her wrist was already grabbed.

Two voices came simultaneously––

Snow: "No need! I’m not an outsider!"

Christopher: "She’s got legs, doesn’t she?"

Amelia froze in place, awkwardly smiled, and knew that someone wasn’t happy with her best friend.

Snow glanced at the two and chuckled, "Alright, bye-bye!"

Miss Fitch waved a carefree goodbye, leaving without taking a single cloud in tow.

Amelia withdrew her gaze, only to find the man in front of her still staring at her, making her inexplicably uneasy. "Why... are you staring at me like that?"

Mr. Hart blinked his eyes and let out an almost imperceptible sigh. "Amelia..."

"Hmm?" She responded softly.

For some reason, she felt his mood was a little off today.

It was as though he’d been gravely wronged.

Suddenly thinking of something, she asked in a low voice, "Did you... argue with your parents again? Did they scold you?"

"No..." Christopher shook his head, wanting to pull her into his arms and hold her quietly for a moment.

But since he was seated in a wheelchair, his posture fixed, such an idea was hard to execute.

He frowned, hating his current state.

"Christopher, what’s wrong with you? Whatever it is, just say it directly. Good or bad, I can take it." She thought perhaps he had something difficult to share.

"Say it directly?" Christopher seemed to catch a thread and looked at her intently. "What about you? When will you say things directly to me? You used to hide it when someone bullied you. Now something’s troubling you, and you’re still hiding it. If I want to know about your life, I have to play eavesdropper outside the door, listening to you talk to someone else."

Oh––

Amelia finally understood why he was acting so off.

He was upset that she hadn’t been open with him, choosing instead to talk to Snow about her issues but not him.

But how was she supposed to begin discussing those things with him?

Besides, they’d been apart for so many years and had only just reconciled; it wasn’t as though they’d reached the point of complete openness and intimacy yet, right?

After some thought, she came up with an excuse. "Actually... I didn’t mean to keep it from you. It’s just that I was too busy yesterday and didn’t make it to the hospital. It’s hard to explain over a quick phone call. I thought you’d be discharged and back today and we’d have plenty of time to talk, but who knew all this would happen before even stepping through the door."

Christopher listened to her patiently explain, half-believing her. "Is that really what you intended?"

"Of course!"

His expression noticeably improved.

"And you." Amelia had learned her lesson when it came to relationships. She no longer played the passive, disadvantaged party. In this situation, she took the offensive, even when she was at fault, trying to assert dominance. If lucky, she might even shift the tide completely.

For instance, now, she suddenly dropped three words, startling Christopher.

—What about him?

"What did you promise me before? You said you’d give me freedom and space. So how does having Snow come snoop around fit into that?"

"I... I was worried about you."

"Was it necessary? I’m not a three-year-old."

"..." Christopher was rendered speechless under her rebuttal. His thin lips parted briefly, froze for two seconds, then suddenly reacted, "Don’t change the subject. I was the one asking you a question."

"And you were the one in the wrong first."

Christopher stared at her fiery demeanor and suddenly recalled her antics earlier at the old family estate—how she’d pretended to be mentally unstable to scare Michael Garcia—and couldn’t help but laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" She didn’t understand.

This man was seriously bizarre—solemn one moment, accusatory the next, then randomly chuckling.

Christopher didn’t answer, only asked, "How did you come up with the idea of using the ’mentally insane people aren’t held accountable for murder’ tactic to scare Michael Garcia?"

Slightly raising an eyebrow, she realized he was laughing about that?

She replied unhurriedly, "Do you think I was just randomly bluffing to scare him?"

"Wasn’t it?"

She remained silent, her gaze filled with meaning.

Christopher studied her. The cheerful ease on his face slowly stiffened, his eyes gradually betraying apprehension.

"Amelia, you wouldn’t really..."

He didn’t dare finish his question, his heart clenched instantaneously.

"Christopher, if I truly were mentally unstable and it was incurable, would you still want to be with me?"

As the words settled, the room grew agonizingly quiet.

Christopher stared hard at her, his panic lasting only a brief moment before he steadied himself and resolutely declared, "I would! No matter what messed-up illness you might have, I’d still want you!"

And in fact, if she were ill, it’d be even better. That way, no one else would dare want her, and he wouldn’t have to share her.

Amelia had intended to scare him, but his answer took the fun out of it.

So she stood up and threw out a casual remark, "Go upstairs and get some rest; I have things to take care of at work."

She wanted to leave?

Christopher wasn’t pleased. "Is your job really that busy?"

"You’re the boss yourself. Don’t you know how much work goes into running a company?"

"..." Seeing her intent to leave, he couldn’t bear it, so he quickly called out, "You don’t have to rush off this minute, right?"

"What are you trying to do?" She turned back.

He sulked like a child, "Take me upstairs."

Amelia looked toward the other side of the living room. "There’s an indoor elevator, and your wheelchair is smart."

"I want you to push me."

She curled her lips, ready to retort but hesitated. Instead, she moved behind his wheelchair. "Christopher, you really are like a three-year-old."

"In that case, it’s hard work for you—raising four kids at once."

"..." Behind him, she rolled her eyes dramatically, utterly speechless!

Once in the bedroom, Christopher began a new round of stalling tactics.

"Today’s a weekend. Even if you do go back to work, your employees are resting, aren’t they?"

"..."

"Why not take half a day off at home? You can go tomorrow."

"..."

"It’s midday. Aren’t you tired? It’s so cold outside; wouldn’t staying under the covers be warmer?"

She crossed her arms, towering over him, and snapped, "Have you said enough yet?"

"No... You’re already here; why not nap with me for a while, hmm?"

"That’s your real motive?"

"Hmm. I miss you. Since we made up, we haven’t had the chance to properly kiss and cuddle. It’s inhumane."

Listening to his shameless chatter, Amelia wanted to ball up the blanket and stuff it straight into his mouth.

This guy—his erratic personality, mood swings, and absurd demeanor—was practically the embodiment of mental instability.

Next time Michael Garcia acted out, she might as well send Christopher to deal with him––she couldn’t help but think of a scene from "Treasure Raiders," where Old Lady Sterling, despite being paralyzed, was drugged by Lian Chengbi and would go on nightly rampages during the drug’s effect, only to remember nothing afterward...

If there were such a miracle drug, could she use it to control this puppet before her and eliminate all those she loathed!

"Amelia... Amelia?" Christopher saw her standing beside the bed, lost in thought, and called out several times.

She snapped back to reality, startled by her own ridiculous and overtly violent musings, even scaring herself.

Christopher noticed her shiver and asked in concern, "What’s wrong? Are you cold? The bed’s much warmer."

He extended the invitation with enthusiasm.

Amelia’s expression turned awkward. "No. Quickly go to sleep and recover soon."

"I see you’re tired these days too. No matter how much work you have, it doesn’t all need sorting out now. Rest a bit first." He invited her again earnestly, lifting a corner of the blanket.

Amelia stood by the bed, gazing indifferently at him.

This man lay on the luxurious, spacious bed. Despite his immobile legs, his figure remained attractive, especially his face–too handsome for mortals and immortals alike, his deep and dark eyes teeming with desire for her.

She watched him for a while. Somehow, her heart began to waver.

Christopher naturally noticed this, softening his voice further. "Please, just lay with me for a while, hmm? I’m in this condition; I won’t eat you alive."

"You wouldn’t dare!" She spat fiercely, her cheeks flushing and her heartbeat slipping out of rhythm.

What a disaster...

Her resistance to this rogue seemed to be diminishing by the day.

"Amelia, it’s not like we’ve never slept together. Besides, it’s just a nap this time. Or–are you actually lacking confidence in yourself? Afraid that lying beside me, you won’t be able to resist doing something to me?"

He didn’t shy away from his mischievous smile, his gaze blatantly roaming her graceful figure, adding with charming audacity: "After all... you’ve been lonely and unsatisfied for years. You know women have––"

"Christopher!" She had been wavering, but hearing his rogue-like speech angered her to no end, her beautiful eyes blazing with twin fires.

Yet, after glaring at him for quite some time, she couldn’t think of how to curse him.

For someone with skin thicker than city walls, scolding him would be a waste of breath.

She turned around and stormed out, slamming the door as she left.

But before she made it to the stairs, she saw Noah standing in the hallway, clutching a freshly completed smart robot.

Their eyes met.

"Noah." She immediately softened her tone to greet him.

The little boy approached, glancing briefly toward the bedroom. "Mom, were you fighting with Dad again?"

The precocious eldest was always worried about his parents’ arguments, afraid his mom might take them away again.

Amelia’s heart ached as she stroked her son’s head and reassured him firmly, "Sweetheart, Daddy and Mommy weren’t fighting. We’ve made up. We’re a family now, understand?"

"Then are we all going to live together?"

"Well... not for now. This place is too far from Mommy’s work. But I’ll come by often. You and your brother and sister can stay here, or return to the other place if you prefer."

Amelia had her stance but didn’t think it necessary to explain it to the children.

Thankfully, Noah was ahead of his years. After thinking for a moment, he nodded and said, "Mommy, I understand. When Dad’s legs are healed, he’ll come and fetch you back himself."

Amelia was startled by his words.

Although not entirely accurate, they were indeed close to the truth.

"Good!"

————

Amelia remained resolute in her decision not to move to Imperial Garden. No matter how much someone pestered her, she wouldn’t budge.

On Monday at work, she was swamped.

Around noon, she finally sat down for a break as her phone rang.

Assuming it was someone calling to check on her, she leisurely finished signing off on a document before picking up.

But seeing the number, she was surprised.

If she remembered correctly, this should be... Betty’s phone?

Why was she calling again?

"Hello, Betty. What’s the matter?" She answered the call with fluent English, laced with mild impatience and confusion.

Betty cut straight to the point. "Amelia, I’ve arrived in River City! Just landed at the airport, heading for the hotel now. Do you have time for dinner tonight?"

Amelia’s brain buzzed with question marks. She responded bluntly, "We’re not that close, are we? You’ve been calling me so often. What exactly do you want?"

Betty sighed, suddenly shedding her wealthy heiress pride, speaking pitifully. "I ran away from home and don’t have anywhere to go. River City... you’re the only person here I’m familiar with..."

"Ran away from home?" Amelia was even more surprised.

"Amelia, considering we both have ties to the same man, can’t you help me?"

"..." Though Amelia considered herself clever these days, she couldn’t grasp what Betty meant. "What... what do you want me to help with?"

"Come out for dinner tonight. We’ll talk then!"

"I have plans tonight..."

Before finishing her sentence, Betty hung up.

Amelia was utterly perplexed.

After pondering for a while, she thought of asking Kane about it.

After all, this woman pestering her wouldn’t resolve itself, and if mishandled, she’d only end up with another headache to deal with.

Troubles were the last thing she needed—her plate was already full!

Glancing at the clock to ensure the time difference wouldn’t disturb Kane, she dialed his number for the first time in ages.

But the call went unanswered.

She frowned, guessing Kane might be busy.

By evening, Christopher called, "Are you coming over tonight? The kids miss you. They’re saying that all you care about now is work and that you don’t love them anymore."

Amelia had long grown immune to his nonsense, responding lazily, "I have something to do tonight. Once it’s done, it’ll probably be late. I’ll leave work early tomorrow and head to Imperial Garden."

Christopher didn’t hide his displeasure. "You used to cling to the kids and never wanted them to stay with me. Now you’re acting like some deadbeat mom, leaving them with me and not bothering anymore."

Amelia chuckled, relaxing into her chair. "In the past you were up and about. I was worried you’d run off with the kids. Now you can’t move, you’re practically immobilized. How could you take the three little ones away?"

"You—" Christopher was so frustrated he couldn’t even speak. "Amelia Garcia! You’re too much!"

"And you brought it on yourself. You deserve it!"

And she wasn’t wrong.

Hadn’t he willingly come crawling to her, practically handing her the opportunity?

If they’d stayed out of each other’s lives, she—just the owner of a small jewelry company—would never have been a match for the president of Seal-Cloud Empire. Nor would she have had the chance to get the upper hand.