Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 337: Memory Restoration

Chapter 337: Chapter 337: Memory Restoration

The study door was knocked.

She looked up and saw Christopher come in.

"The surveillance from the garage and the recorder from your car have all been taken care of. I’ve directly handed them over to the police. It’s most appropriate for the police to clarify the rumors and publish the truth." Christopher’s low and captivating voice slowly said as he wheeled towards the desk.

——This also saves her from being attacked by those trolls and haters again.

Amelia nodded, somewhat unconvinced, and said, "You, Mr. Hart, have quite the influence. There’s nothing that can stump you."

"Did I hear that right? In this lifetime, I actually got praised by someone. I could die without regrets now." He smiled roguishly, his tone laced with mockery.

The woman rolled her eyes at him, her gaze returning to her phone, only to suddenly find something that made her frown.

"This reply... Why do I feel it’s kind of strange?" She turned the phone towards him, the screen paused on the book review section. There was a comment flaring with praise for the male protagonist, and the reply below read: "Exactly right! You understand the male protagonist even better than the author!"

Christopher glanced at it, appearing unfazed, "Is that so? What’s strange about it?"

Amelia looked at his expression, suddenly reached out, and snatched the phone from his palm, simultaneously getting up to walk around the other side of the desk.

"What are you doing!" Christopher, sitting in the wheelchair, couldn’t act quickly and could only watch helplessly.

"Just verifying my suspicion!"

The unlock password for his phone was her own birthday. Amelia easily unlocked it, found the app, and upon entering, saw his ID account—indeed it was the account that had replied to the comment.

"Christopher, you’re... you’ve truly made me see you in a new light!" Amelia was shocked, her beautiful eyes nearly popping out.

As she scrolled down through the comments, she was even more moved to laughter, unable to hold back her amusement.

Someone had liked all the comments praising him and begging to get back together and had replied to quite a few—while also fiercely rebutting all the comments calling him a jerk.

Mr. Hart couldn’t maintain his composure, reaching out with a somber face, ordering, "Give me back the phone! I deserve at least some privacy. Is it polite of you to look at my phone without permission?!"

Amelia wasn’t afraid of him at all, continuing to scroll while teasing, "You must be really bored, huh? Shall I tell Young Master Palmer to send some work your way tomorrow?"

"..." Mr. Hart was speechless.

Are there really women like this in the world?

He thought about nothing but how to treat her well every day, how to pamper her and love her—yet she only thought about how to make his life difficult!

He must have been out of his mind, falling for such a carefree and heartless woman.

Seeing he didn’t respond, Amelia was content, scrolling down several more pages, clicking her tongue and shaking her head as she read.

"Christopher, do you have dissociative identity disorder? How could these words come from you?"

"Actually, the author’s description isn’t precise enough; the male protagonist’s prototype is even more handsome than this..."

"The male protagonist is the one who loves the female lead the most in the world, with no exception..."

"Male—hey what are you doing? I haven’t finished reading yet!" She was reading aloud line by line from the screen, not expecting Christopher to come forward and snatch the phone.

On looking at that face again, usually cold and arrogant beyond belief, it was now red as a monkey’s bottom.

Amelia suddenly felt cheerful, no longer bothered by being publicly exposed and slandered online. She seriously looked at him, curiously asking, "What was your mindset at the time—thinking of finding a writer to write down our story?"

Someone coldly replied, "I lost my memory. I don’t remember. Probably had a brain short-circuit at the time."

Ignoring him, she continued, "Lucas King said you wanted to clarify those online rumors, directing the focus to yourself. Actually, those things are in the past, and I haven’t really cared much. They’re insignificant people. Why should I care about their opinions?"

Someone lifted his gaze, "You mean, I was being overly sentimental?"

Indeed, it felt that way.

However, while Amelia thought this way, she dared not say it out loud, seeing his ominous face threatening to unleash hail.

So, upon her conscience, the woman sincerely said, "It’s not being overly sentimental but rather foresighted—you see, now all the netizens have changed their views about me. They all sympathize with my background and experience, believing in my character and morality, and voluntarily speaking up for me. This is all thanks to you."

Christopher pursed his lips, pulled her hand, drawing her closer, "So, does that mean you should thank me?"

Knowing what he was about to say next, the woman played along, "So how do you want me to thank you?"

He lifted his gaze, with a half-smile, and the atmosphere around them suddenly changed, "What do you think? You’re so smart, don’t you know what I’m thinking?"

"No matter how smart I am, I’m not a worm in your stomach." She responded wittily, raised her wrist to check her watch, and suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, it’s already past nine! I should be going back! Last night you said it was too much for me to enjoy alone and leave the kids with you—so tonight I’ll take the kids with me. Tomorrow, you can have Fuller and Aunt Harper pick them up from preschool."

"Amelia!" He suddenly grabbed her hand tightly.

"What?"

"..." The man glared at her, his handsome face gloomy.

This woman, when did she become so mischievous?

She knew he wanted her to stay the night, yet she deliberately said these annoying things!

"If you leave tonight, then don’t come back ever again." Mr. Hart, too, had his pride.

He had taken the initiative time and again, shamelessly tossing aside all pride and respect, and this is what he got?

He was already quite annoyed about her teasing him over replying to book reviews, but he had to endure it and pretend not to care.

Now she was adding fuel to the fire!

After dropping this, seeing the woman remain silent, he slightly lifted his gaze to give her a sidelong glance, deliberately provoking, "Leave, why aren’t you leaving?"

She pressed her lips together, her expression frozen, and muttered, "I’ll go check if the kids are asleep." She stomped off, bypassing him.

Mr. Hart’s face suddenly blossomed into a smile, his heart filled with warmth.

This little bickering and mutual teasing seemed to return them to a state where they were ambiguously close but not quite lovers, something that he found nostalgic.

To be exact, though they had been childhood sweethearts growing up together without any reservations, they never actually dated, nor had they experienced a fiery, inseparable love.

Back in the day, when they confirmed their feelings, they were young and prioritized their studies.

Even the occasional "dates" were really them studying and reading together. Rarely did he muster the courage to hold her hand or steal a kiss.

Even then, such kisses were restrained and reverent, barely more than lips touching, lingering for no more than three seconds.

They assumed they had a long future, plenty of time for passionate love, but who knew those events would happen before they could experience it.

Their relationship quickly plunged to a freezing point.

Later, Grandpa took charge, and they were forced to marry, entering straight into a marital status.

During that time, their relationship had already broken down, so although they were the closest of spouses, they spent the whole day in almost complete silence.

Eventually, either due to day-to-day interactions or daily intimate contact, he gradually forgot those cracks caused by past events and more than once wanted to talk to her, to start anew, to truly become husband and wife.

Yet she would, now and then, mention the three-year agreement, always counting the days, eager to break free.

He thought Amelia had already lost all feelings for him, so he felt that holding on stubbornly would be pointless.

When the three years were up, she proactively filed for divorce, confirming his belief that this woman had completely let go of him and had enough of him.

In a fit of pique, he agreed to the divorce, thinking that no one in this world couldn’t live without someone else.

But when the divorce was finalized and she disappeared completely from his world, he only then realized how foolish it was to pretend to be magnanimous. He regretted it, felt sad, pain, and sorrow, while also harboring hatred.

He hated her for appearing so gentle and amiable yet having such a ruthless heart, able to cast aside so many years of feelings and end a three-year marriage so cleanly and decisively.

As love and hate intertwined, he began to punish himself.

Despite yearning for her deeply, he refused to seek her out; though his heart had room for no one but her, he passively consented to his family arranging for Lily Garcia to stay by his side.

Until over six months later, news of her death came.

He felt like the sky had fallen.

Christopher sat in his wheelchair, his mind inexplicably sinking into a void, and suddenly, he felt a splitting headache, couldn’t help but raise his hand and tapped his head.

But that pain intensified, so intense that it made him dizzy, and he began to hear things.

"Brother Christopher, I said it wasn’t me. If you don’t believe me, I can’t help it..."

"I didn’t think even you wouldn’t believe me..."

"Fine! If you say it was, then it was me who pushed her into the sea, okay? She was so annoying, always targeting me. I hated her to death!"

"The three-year marriage has ended, let’s divorce..."

"Christopher, your ex-wife is dead. She left behind a daughter for you. If you still have any regard for your past relationship, raise the child well..."

"Daddy, daddy, where’s my mommy? Why do other kids have mommies, but I don’t? I want a mommy too. Hurry, make me a mommy..."

Many voices filled his ears, like a scrambled television continuously switching channels; the words and scenes surged toward him like a tide.

"Daddy, mommy said she’ll stay tonight... Daddy, daddy, what’s wrong? Mommy, come quickly! Daddy is sick! Wahh, daddy, what’s wrong with you?"

Hope ran into the study, intending to tell her father that mommy was staying to sleep with her tonight. But upon entering, she saw her dad sitting in the wheelchair, hitting his own head fiercely with his hands.

Hope was terrified and immediately started crying and shouting.

The next second, Amelia burst through the door.

Seeing him in this state, she too was frightened, quickly grabbing his arm and calling out worriedly, "Christopher... Christopher, what’s wrong? Does your head hurt? Don’t do that; you’ll hurt yourself!"

The doctor had previously said that his injuries from falling were too severe. Even though a miracle allowed him to survive, there would be many aftereffects.

For instance, headaches, insomnia, or other bodily discomforts.

Over this period, he had suffered a few headaches, but medication had always provided relief.

Yet today...

"Hope, quickly go and get Aunt Harper to bring the medicine, the ones for daddy!"

"Alright, alright..." The little girl turned and ran.

Amelia looked at him, seeing his face contorted with pain, she simply hugged his head tightly to her chest, soothing endlessly, "It’s okay, Hope went to get the medicine, you’ll feel better after taking it."