Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 344 My Hand is Not Disabled!

Chapter 344: Chapter 344 My Hand is Not Disabled!

The two of them laughed and teased each other, and even though they were separated by their own space, Fuller, who was driving in the front, could still hear them.

The usually stoic-faced bodyguard, who had been by his boss’s side for five or six years, finally saw Christopher genuinely smile from his heart. It gave him a sense of relief—these two had finally endured the hardships and found joy; from now on, they could live together as a happy family. The thought made him happy.

But no one knew that their greatest crisis was quietly approaching.

Christopher was in a genuinely good mood.

Even though he knew there might be a tough corporate battle coming, and this New Year might not go smoothly, having the woman he loved by his side gave him boundless strength, enough to be fearless, even if the sky were to fall.

As they approached home, Amelia insisted on keeping her distance from him to straighten her clothes.

"After dinner, I need to head back," Amelia said lightly as she adjusted her hair, trying to diffuse the ambiguous atmosphere in the car.

Christopher turned to her in surprise. "Is that really necessary?"

"Of course. I still have work to handle." She indeed had work, but both of them knew there was another reason, unspoken yet understood.

If she stayed, Christopher would undoubtedly find ways to have her sleep in the master bedroom, then perhaps...

Even though it felt sentimental, one time seemed indistinguishable from countless times, but she did not want to.

Ever since they had children, she had come to feel these actions somehow shameful.

Psychologically, she couldn’t accept it.

Seeing her say this and noticing her petite, adorable earlobes flush crimson, Christopher couldn’t help but chuckle and intentionally tease: "Imperial Garden has a study room, you know—it won’t interfere with your work."

"Who says it wouldn’t? It would interfere greatly!"

"Oh? So you mean my presence has too much influence on you? You can’t focus on work when I’m around?" Mr. Hart, shameless as ever, leaned closer with feigned curiosity.

Amelia: "..."

"Am I right?" He pressed on.

Amelia decided to be mischievous. The more he wanted an answer, the less she planned to give it. With a cold and glamorous sidelong glance, she said casually, "You really do think highly of yourself. What I mean is, if I stay at Imperial Garden, those three little ones are too rowdy—I wouldn’t have the mind to work."

"..." Christopher’s expression froze slightly.

"That’s the truth!" She asked seriously, "You’ve spent time with them these past days—don’t you feel like there’s a swarm of bees buzzing around your ears?"

Mr. Hart’s face fell. He sat back in his wheelchair and replied coldly, "I’ll go tell them their mom dislikes them."

"Childish!"

That was Amelia’s plan, but as the saying goes, man proposes, God disposes. Before dinner was finished, the gloomy weather over the past few days finally turned serious.

Aunt Harper glanced outside inadvertently and exclaimed, "It’s snowing! The first snow of winter!"

Her comment successfully grabbed the children’s attention. The three little ones abandoned their dinner and rushed outside in a chaotic frenzy.

"Wow! It’s really snowing—so beautiful!"

"Mommy, it’s snowing!"

"Look, heavy snowfall!"

In fact, the two brothers grew up in Zurich and had been visiting ski resorts with Amelia since they were barely two years old.

They weren’t strangers to snow.

But kids are kids; their innocent joy and curiosity made them naturally excited when they saw the snowflakes dancing through the air.

Christopher gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling windows and then drew his sight back to rest on someone’s face. Unhurriedly, he remarked, "It’s snowing; the roads might get slippery, right?"

Amelia cast him a glance and didn’t bother to answer.

It had barely started snowing—what was there to slip on?

If the snow continued throughout the night, accumulating thickly, tomorrow morning might indeed become treacherous. Their house was a secluded standalone residence, and the outside private driveway saw no vehicle traffic. The road was bound to freeze.

This solidified her determination to leave tonight; otherwise, she might not be able to get to work tomorrow.

Thinking of this, she quickened her eating pace, gobbling her meal swiftly, and stood up. "If it’s still snowing tomorrow, don’t send them to kindergarten; it’s not safe on the roads. I better leave while the snow hasn’t piled up yet—it’s closer to my company over there."

Christopher stared at her in shock, then grew furious in an instant. "What is this place, a den of dragons and snakes? What’s so hard about staying the night?"

His voice was calm; he didn’t raise it even slightly, but despite this, the servants in the living room all stiffened and immediately felt the tension.

Aunt Harper had been outside watching the children, worried about them catching a cold. She came in to grab scarves and, noticing the heavy atmosphere in the dining area, hesitated before stepping forward to mediate. "Ma’am, it’s already so late, and the snow is falling—it’d be such a hassle to go back. Forget whether Mr. Hart agrees or not; the children wouldn’t approve either. You’ve been so busy these days, you haven’t had a chance to spend quality time with them—the little ones have been expressing their dissatisfaction."

Aunt Harper was clever. She knew mentioning the children would strike a chord—what mother could refuse such language?

Christopher had already lost interest in arguing with her. With an air of disdain, he wheeled himself out of the dining area and headed upstairs.

Before Amelia could say anything, Ethan dashed inside excitedly. "Mommy, come look at the snow—it’s so pretty! Huh? Where’s Daddy? Daddy!"

She quickly stopped her son. "Daddy’s not feeling well—don’t call him. Mommy will play with you."

Hearing this, Aunt Harper realized Amelia wasn’t going to leave, and her heart leapt with joy. Quickly, she said, "Ma’am, please stay with the children—I’ll fetch them scarves and hats."

Amelia genuinely had work to do. A new store in another city was set to open before New Year’s, and the team had prepared all the documents and materials, but she still needed to review them.

There were also things to attend to at headquarters, and she had to make a trip there before the year’s end. Her current tasks also needed advanced preparation.

Just thinking about having to take another international flight gave her the chills. The shadow of that past plane crash hadn’t faded—it wouldn’t anytime soon.

Still, as the most senior executive and largest shareholder of her company, she couldn’t neglect her responsibilities indefinitely, even if headquarters was staffed with capable leadership.

A pile of tasks lay ahead—not overwhelming, but undeniably stress-inducing.

Meanwhile, the snow fell heavier and harder. Coupled with the plunging temperature, it wasn’t long before the ground was blanketed in white.

The children were having the time of their lives, so much so that if Aunt Harper hadn’t repeatedly cautioned them against catching a chill, they probably would’ve continued playing outside through the night.

After settling the kids down for the night, Amelia didn’t plan on going to the master bedroom. She thought she’d work for a bit longer and then squeeze in with Hope—perfect for keeping warm.

Unexpectedly, when she pushed open the door to the study, she found the very person she’d been trying to avoid sitting elegantly behind the desk, a laptop open in front of him.

Christopher also seemed slightly startled. After raising his eyes to see her, he quickly withdrew his gaze, clearly still harboring some anger, and resumed staring at his screen.

Amelia lingered awkwardly at the entrance for a few seconds. Thinking of his health, she ultimately couldn’t pretend she didn’t see him and walked inside.

"It’s so late—why haven’t you gone to rest? You’ve been working hard all day at the company." His legs had poor circulation, and sitting for long periods in this cold season—despite the room being temperature-controlled—would surely chill him to the bone.

Prolonged bad habits could only further hinder his recovery and leg function.

Christopher initially didn’t want to engage with her, but weakness won out. The moment she initiated conversation, he couldn’t help himself: "I just need to finish this bit of work."

"How much longer will it take?"

"What’s wrong? Are you in a hurry to use the study?" The man looked up again, his gaze heavy and brooding.

Amelia sensed he was still upset. She paused briefly, as though adjusting her own emotions, before replying calmly, "I’m worried about your health. You’ve just made some progress with your recovery; if you overwork yourself and worsen your condition, the one suffering will still be you."

And just like that, whatever resentment was in his heart instantly evaporated.

Christopher’s thin lips pressed together slightly as he murmured, "Just a few minutes... it’s a project document for tomorrow’s meeting; I need to review it."

"Okay."

Amelia acknowledged softly, then carried her own laptop to the sofa and immersed herself in her tasks.

Christopher looked at her once, then again, and quickly realized that with her present, he simply couldn’t focus.

No wonder she had said earlier that she couldn’t work properly in Imperial Garden.

Unable to calm his restless mind any longer, he decisively closed the laptop.

The noise drew Amelia’s attention. She glanced toward him: "Finished? Do you want me to help you back to your room?"

Sitting in his wheelchair, Christopher met her gaze across the five-meter distance. Then, in a lukewarm tone, he said, "No need; my hands still work, don’t they?"

The implication being that he was perfectly capable of controlling his wheelchair.

Amelia stared at him in surprise, her expression suddenly stiffening. She was baffled.

Hadn’t he calmed down earlier? Why the abrupt shift to cold sarcasm?

She had stayed far from him, minding her own business—how could she have annoyed him?

Ridiculous!

Internally grumbling, she decided to ignore the Tyrant King and returned to her work.

Seeing her indifferent attitude only made Christopher angrier.

This woman... She hadn’t been like this before—how had she turned into someone so detached and oblivious?

Even after upsetting him so greatly, she acted as though nothing had happened and simply buried herself in her work again?

Christopher started to say something but hesitated. Finally, as he reached the door in his wheelchair, he couldn’t hold back and snapped, "Don’t come tomorrow night!"

What?

Amelia shot him a sharp look, her bright, beautiful eyes filled with confusion. She couldn’t hold back either. "Christopher Hart, are you crazy?"

"You’re the crazy one!" he retorted hotly before storming off, leaving Amelia behind in the study, utterly flustered and fuming.

Because of this nonsensical "argument," Amelia was determined not to take the master bedroom that night, instead joining her daughter in the Princess Chamber.

Holding her soft, sweet-smelling little girl, she slept soundly and deeply that night.

But just a wall away, the master of the house faced a far different fate.

Knowing the woman he cherished was under the same roof yet unable to sleep beside her or hold her—was there a worse feeling?

In the silence of his insomnia, he began reconsidering his approach.

Had he lowered himself too much, treated her too well, only for her to grow increasingly spoiled and oblivious to his emotions?

Perhaps he needed to maintain a higher stance, forcing her to curb her behavior and at least be a little more considerate toward his feelings.

————

The next morning, they woke up.

As anticipated, the outside world had transformed into a vast white expanse.

Imperial Garden, tucked away in a serene spot with a nearby lake, now resembled an ice-carved wonderland, peaceful under the snowfall’s grand spectacle.

Though Amelia had spent years abroad and was no stranger to snowy weather, it wasn’t quite the same as the deep-winter snows of her childhood in her homeland.

Gazing at the snow’s magnificence—its tranquil yet stunning splendor—she found herself drifting into nostalgic memories.

As a child, she and the local kids would eagerly frolic in the snow just like last night’s trio—laughing and squealing as they ran through the snowfields, waged snowball fights, and built snowmen. Even when their hands turned red and their clothes soaked, they wouldn’t back down.

That is, until their parents intervened angrily, brandishing stray branches to chase the kids home.

Christopher’s goodwill toward her was undeniable.

But his immaturity was equally well-known.

Every time they had snowball fights, he was exceptionally devious. While she was busy tackling "enemies," he was always scheming to mess with her.

Either he’d drag her under a tree and vigorously shake the branches to dump snow all over her, or he’d lure her toward a snow pit, where she’d unknowingly step in and sink waist-deep. He’d then jump in to "heroically rescue" her.

Absolutely a textbook ’pig teammate’!

Yet she had been inexplicably happy.

After losing her mother’s love, all the joy and happiness in her life had come from him.

She had once believed that what was lost could never be regained—just as her mother had passed away and could never return. She never imagined that, after four or five years of wasted time, she would reclaim the fantasies she had almost completely abandoned.

Her thoughts trapped in reminiscence, her heart softened unknowingly.

She thought of the person who had stormed out of the study angrily last night, and a sudden yearning to see him emerged. She wanted to say to him, "The snow outside is beautiful—do you remember our snowball fights from childhood?"

To her astonishment, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she heard the words aloud.

"What are you thinking? Are you reminiscing about childhood snowball fights?"

Startled, she turned abruptly to see the "pig teammate" himself, seated in his wheelchair with an effortlessly calm demeanor, his handsome face unreadable, approaching her.

They truly shared a connection!

Her heartbeat faltered chaotically. She wanted to say, "You remember, don’t you? I recall it all vividly!" But catching sight of his legs under the thin blanket, her erratic heartbeat quickly settled down.

"What’s the point of remembering? You can’t exactly play with me again, can you?"

Christopher’s gaze faltered briefly in silence before he responded, "Maybe someday. But when the chance comes, you better not fall for my tricks again."

"You admit you’re a trickster!"

She threw the comment at him and prepared to leave, ready to head to work after breakfast.

But as she walked past his wheelchair, he grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doing?"

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"Of course..."

Why ask that? Amelia wondered, her eyes catching the dark shadows under his gaze and the fatigue etched across his brow. She suddenly understood.

For some reason, the corners of her lips curved into an amused smile.

"Seems someone didn’t sleep well! Serves them right—who told certain people to throw pointless tantrums, changing moods faster than a three-year-old’s!"

In truth, had he not snapped at her inexplicably before leaving the study, she would have ended up in the master bedroom anyway.

He needed help turning over at night for comfort. While the caregiver also assisted, she still wanted to be there for him.

But with his temper flaring like that, how could she let herself down like that?

She had her own pride.