Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 355 Are You Capable or Not?

Chapter 355: Chapter 355 Are You Capable or Not?

Christopher knew she wasn’t in a good mood today. Seeing her cold expression now, layered with sarcasm, only confirmed it further.

His handsome face lit with a small smile. He didn’t mind her attitude; instead, he feigned grievance and said, "I sent you so many messages on WhatsApp, but you didn’t reply. I was worried you were upset."

"I was out shopping. My hands were full, so I didn’t respond."

"Excuses. You were definitely angry."

"You’re overthinking it. I wasn’t."

Knowing it wasn’t worth being stubborn over this, Christopher shifted his gaze to the pile of shopping bags on the coffee table and sofa. He made small talk, "Bought so much?"

"..." She ignored him, focusing on sorting the kids’ clothes, trying to pack them together neatly.

Christopher noticed her silence but didn’t make a fuss. Rolling his wheelchair forward slightly, he reached out to grab the shopping bags.

He began looking through them one by one.

Amelia gave him a sideways glance. "What are you doing?"

He frowned. "You bought all this just for you and the kids?"

"Who else would it be for?"

"At least get me something along the way," Mr. Hart said in a pitiful tone.

Amelia gave him a fake smile. "You’re in a wheelchair. Do you even care about fashion?"

He responded matter-of-factly, "Being in a wheelchair is bad enough. Shouldn’t I at least dress nicely?"

Amelia, hearing the urgency in his tone, couldn’t help but laugh lightly.

"An old man like you wanting to dress nicely! For what? Planning to strut around like an old peacock, flirting with everyone again?"

Her tone carried a playful scold as she mocked him, even throwing him a few sideways glances.

She didn’t think much of her behavior, but in Christopher’s eyes, it was incredibly alluring.

It completely mesmerized him.

"If I dress nicely, it’s only for you to see... I can’t even win you over. Who else would I flirt with?" He stared fixedly at her bright, beautiful profile, his head filled with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. Even his voice wavered slightly.

Amelia muttered "pervert" under her breath but casually pulled a small brocade box out of one of the bags and tossed it to him. "Here, it’s yours."

The box landed squarely in his lap, hitting him in the stomach.

Christopher was startled out of his daze, clutching his stomach where it hit. Pleasantly surprised, he picked up the brocade box. "You got me something?"

A delighted smile spread across his face. He opened the box to find a tie.

The color was understated, but the subtle pattern was sophisticated—perfectly suiting his style and taste.

"Such a thoughtful gift. I’ll wear it tomorrow."

Compared to the mountain of shopping triumphs for Amelia and the kids, this single tie was rather insignificant.

But the fact that she thought of him, especially considering they were in a bit of a spat, was indeed rare.

Amelia muttered, "If Snow Fitch hadn’t dragged me into the store, I wouldn’t have bothered buying it."

Snow had said, "You’ve bought so much tonight, all for yourself and the kids. Your husband Christopher doesn’t even get as much as a hair? That’s too much."

So, Snow insisted on dragging her into a luxury menswear store.

After some picking and choosing, and with an attitude of grudging compromise, she ended up with just a tie to appease him.

"Your bestie is pretty decent—an outsider sees things more clearly."

"What’s that supposed to mean? Are you calling me clueless?"

"I wouldn’t dare..."

Mr. Hart was particularly humble tonight.

Amelia efficiently finished sorting the clothes and casually pushed the kids’ shopping bags in front of him. "Here, take these back with you."

He glanced at the bags, his face showing slight surprise. "What about you?"

"I already told you, I’m not going over tonight."

"I came all this way to pick you up, and you’re still not coming?"

"It’s so late, I’m tired, and I don’t want the hassle."

This was true.

She hadn’t been shopping in ages. While shopping, she’d been thrilled, but afterward, her legs were sore, her feet ached, and now, all she wanted was to shower and sleep.

But Christopher wasn’t about to leave empty-handed.

If she wouldn’t go back, then he might as well...

He scanned the living room and glanced upstairs, asking curiously, "I remember... you had a housekeeper here, right?"

"Yeah, but she went home two days ago. She should be back tomorrow, I think."

So tonight, it was just the two of them—man and woman, alone together?

His eyes darkened slightly, and a subtle yet mischievous smile crossed his lips. With feigned seriousness, he said, "I’ve been busy all day. I’m tired too. I don’t want the hassle either."

Amelia looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"This house is so big, and you’re here all alone. It’s too lonely. I’ll stay and keep you company."

"..." She glared at him, clearly displeased.

He acted as if he didn’t notice and rolled his wheelchair away from the sofa, inspecting the house.

While looking around, he wore a dissatisfied, disdainful expression as he examined his surroundings.

Amelia watched him strut around like a king inspecting his domain. She raised her voice, "Christopher, go home. The kids are all alone at the house."

"I can’t go back. Fuller’s already gone. Don’t worry about the kids. Aunt Harper, Fuller, and a house full of security and maids are there. Everything’s fine."

After saying this, noticing her increasingly annoyed expression, he paused and added seriously, "I’ll sleep for a bit to recover my energy. I’ll have Fuller pick me up at six in the morning, and I’ll head back to take the kids to school."

Amelia: "..."

She knew this shameless man had already planned to stay when he came. There was no point in arguing further.

As she turned to head upstairs, she sarcastically quipped, "Then enjoy the couch downstairs!"

The couch?

Christopher was stunned.

Don’t tell him this villa doesn’t even have an indoor elevator?

He instinctively looked around, searching. Finally, he spotted an indoor elevator next to the staircase.

But...

Why did it seem like it wasn’t working?

After studying it for a while, he more or less figured it out—the elevator wasn’t in use and had been locked up for a long time.

Thinking about the villa’s owner, he pulled out his phone, not caring about the late hour, and made a call.

Benny Palmer picked up. "Why are you calling so late?"

Mr. Hart lazily replied, "Remember those years you stayed at Seal-Cloud? I didn’t mistreat you, right? Your villa’s interior looks like a slum."

"The villa’s interior?" Benny sounded confused. After a few seconds, he guessed, "You went to see Amelia?"

Christopher didn’t answer.

The next second, Young Master Palmer fired back unceremoniously, "What’s it to you? I love that style! Is that a problem?"

Mr. Hart said, "If your taste is tacky, just admit it. Denial is pointless."

"Ha! Look who’s talking! What’s your style, then? Complaining that my villa isn’t up to your taste and is beneath someone like the mother of your kids—is that it? Then why don’t you step up and bring her back to your own place?"

Christopher was known for his sharp tongue, and he was particularly merciless when talking to his close friends.

But this time, he stumbled, humiliated in a verbal battle.

Still, Mr. Hart wasn’t one to go down without a fight. After a brief pause, he found a new target for ridicule: "I just made a casual comment, and you’re acting like you’ve been shot. Look at you—single and old, full of pent-up frustration. Might I suggest hitting up the dating scene?"

Mocking him for being single and unable to find a girlfriend!

Benny laughed angrily. "Single and loving it—is that so hard to get? I don’t even want to waste my breath on you. Look at yourself—over the hill, with three kids, lucky to still be alive, stuck in a wheelchair. And yet, you can’t even win over one woman. Now you’re sneaking over to her place in the middle of the night to brown-nose. Seriously—are you even a man? Are you capable? As your buddy, I feel secondhand embarrassment for you!"

Benny’s internal monologue: Come on, let’s see who can dish it out better! Who’s afraid of who!

Clearly, Young Master Palmer’s strong counterpunch completely shut Christopher down.

If this were a visual scene, it’d be a big, bold "K.O!"