Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 429: Drunken Plea for Joy

Chapter 429: Chapter 429: Drunken Plea for Joy

Amelia was startled and turned to look, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, "Christopher, what are you doing... weren’t you the one who dragged me here? Now you’re wearing a long face..."

Amelia’s tolerance for alcohol wasn’t great, and she’d been drinking heavily. She was already tipsy, and her voice naturally soft and coy, with a hint of drunkenness.

Everyone who heard her tone felt their hearts melt.

Christopher was deeply regretful at that moment, suppressing his displeasure as he wrapped her in his arms, looking at everyone, "Sorry everyone, I have to leave now."

The crowd watched the stunning beauty coquettishly nestled in Christopher’s embrace, her lively scent and breath mesmerizing, and their eyes were transfixed.

Christopher’s face was as stern as water. He grabbed the jacket draped over the wheelchair and wrapped the woman tightly.

Benny Palmer: "..."

The big shots: "..."

Amelia: "Um, what are you doing... why is it so dark, did the power go out? Christopher... Brother Christopher, I’m afraid of the dark... so dark."

The room was silent as everyone watched Christopher wheel away, still echoing with the woman’s sweet yet not cloying, delicate yet not seductive petulance.

This...

Christopher sat in the wheelchair with immobile legs. How did he endure this every day?

Christopher himself didn’t know how he endured it...

In his memory, he had never seen Amelia drunk.

Unexpectedly, she was so troublesome.

The two returned to the car, and Christopher originally didn’t plan to go over there that evening. But now, holding a drunk Amelia, he naturally changed his plans.

Earlier at the dinner table, Amelia’s drunkenness was mostly an act.

She knew that causing a scene like that, Christopher would surely tell her to leave quickly. She just didn’t expect him to leave so many executives behind to take her away.

Leave it be; after all, she had achieved her goal for the night.

What she didn’t foresee was that just now she was pretending to be drunk, acting. But now with the alcohol hitting her harder, she clearly felt the world beginning to spin, and her mind becoming more uncontrollable.

She suddenly felt inexplicable happiness, wanting to laugh, dance, cry, and sing loudly. She giggled to herself.

Christopher had trouble with his legs and tried to reach for water after sitting down. Before he even opened the bottle cap, he heard a silly laugh, turning to the woman with full confusion, "What are you laughing at?"

Amelia heard his voice and immediately leaned over, her body soft and boneless, "Who... are you?"

The man’s face darkened, "Are you blind?"

The woman frowned, pouted, coldly snorted, and slapped him, "Such a vicious mouth! I know who you are now!"

"Drink some water." He was too lazy to argue and handed her the opened bottle.

Amelia looked and laughed foolishly, shaking a finger from side to side, "This is wine... Christopher, don’t think you can trick me! Honestly, you wanted to get me drunk... with sinister intentions?"

"..." Christopher secretly gritted his teeth and couldn’t help but chuckle, "Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking — so, are you scared?"

"Afraid? I’m not afraid of you!" She grabbed it and drank several gulps.

The cool water flowed into her heart, dispelling the burning sensation of alcohol. She squinted comfortably and handed the bottle back, "Thanks..."

"Ha, still a polite drunk." Christopher mocked as he took the bottle back. Before he could tighten the cap, she suddenly pounced and straddled him.

"What are you doing?"

"Weren’t you planning to have your way with me? Go ahead!"

"..." Christopher held the bottle and forgot to screw the cap back on, staring at her flirtatiously smiling face, his Adam’s apple bobbing, "Are you serious?"

"Stop babbling!" The woman, impatient, wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered her head to kiss him.

The strong smell of alcohol almost made Christopher push her away.

But thinking about how she was rarely the one to initiate, and in a state of drunken honesty, she probably didn’t even know what she was doing — why not go along with her and see her reaction when she sobers up tomorrow.

With this thought, Christopher dropped the bottle and couldn’t help but hold the lovely woman in his arms tightly...

————

The next day, Amelia woke up to the children’s noise.

"Mommy, mommy, the sun’s already up! Aren’t you getting up! Are you a lazy pig?"

"Mom, look! What’s with Dad’s clothes? Did he get into a fight?"

"Mom... time for breakfast! The book said if you don’t eat by nine, your body will automatically eat poop!"

"Ethan Garcia! Can you stop being gross!"

"That’s what the book said, not me!"

"Oh, can you all stop shouting, haven’t seen a boy more talkative than girls! Don’t say you two are my brothers outside, how embarrassing!"

Amelia’s head was splitting with pain, waking up to the children’s incessant chatter, feeling like she was camping in the forest — surrounded by the noisy chirps of birds.

"Alright, stop making a fuss... go play, mommy is very sleepy, going to sleep some more."

"Mom, you smell a lot like alcohol, were you drunk?" Naturally, the eldest, most sensible and caring, asked concernedly seeing mom humming in discomfort.

Amelia nodded with her eyes closed, "Yeah... mommy was out socializing with daddy last night, got drunk..."

She didn’t open her eyes, unsure how the eldest coaxed away the younger ones, but it suddenly got quiet.

Despite being woken up, once it was quiet again, she couldn’t fall back asleep no matter how much she closed her eyes.

Her head felt like she was wearing a cursed headband, exactly like Monk Don’s chant, torturing her. Struggling, she sat up, feeling inexplicably weak and sore in her waist.

She rarely got drunk and was momentarily puzzled — does a hangover cause not only a headache but also a backache?

She wanted to use the bathroom, so she had to get out of bed.

However, a glance at some cloth hanging by the bed surprised her.

What was this? How did a rag get tossed here?

She picked it up to look closely, only to realize after a while it wasn’t a white rag, but... Christopher’s shirt?

But why was his shirt torn like this?

Before she could figure it out, the room door opened gently, and Ethan poked his head in, "Mom, it’s dad on the phone, he asked if you’re up?"

The little guy came in holding the living room’s landline receiver.

Amelia’s mind was dulled by then, not giving it much thought. She took the receiver and placed it to her ear, her voice hoarse and weak, "Hello..."

"Awake?" The man’s tone was light and cheerful, asking with concern, "Does your head hurt?"

"What do you think... nonsense." Feeling unwell, one’s mood is generally not great, Amelia retorted bluntly, momentarily forgetting she intended to use the bathroom, slumping back onto the bed weakly, "What kind of wine was that yesterday... why does it feel so bad?"

The man replied, "The wine’s fine, it’s the person that’s the problem."

She was more annoyed, "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember how you drank?" Downing so much, not throwing up immediately was a blessing.

"With my mouth!"

"..." Christopher was speechless, sighed after a pause, "Looks like the alcohol hasn’t worn off yet, maybe you should sleep some more, you don’t have work anyway, take a proper rest."

Realizing he intended to hang up, Amelia snapped back to her senses and quickly stopped him, "Wait! Hold on!"