Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 476: He Has Arrived

Chapter 476: Chapter 476: He Has Arrived

Christopher followed up, asking, "What did she say to you? Did she tell you to cheer up, not to be sad, not to dwell in grief?"

Amelia shook her head, and after regaining some composure, emerged from the covers and leaned against the headboard: "She said... she couldn’t bear to part with me."

Those few simple words made Christopher’s heart ache once more.

Hearing her hoarse voice and seeing her red and swollen eyes, she must have cried herself to sleep; his heart ached immensely. He turned around and brought the water from the bedside table over: "Your voice is hoarse, have some water. This is what Noah poured for you; the kids are very worried about you."

She was indeed thirsty, her mouth so dry it almost wouldn’t open. She took the cup and drank it down in one go, "gulp gulp."

Seeing her so thirsty, Christopher waited for her arm to lower and gently asked, "Would you like more? I can get you some."

She shook her head, "No need."

After drinking the water, it seemed to wash away the emotional block in her chest, and she felt a little more uplifted.

Hearing the quietness in the house, she was slightly curious: "What are Hope and the others doing?"

"They had lunch and went to sleep."

No wonder the house was rarely quiet, without the noise of the little ones.

"Is it already afternoon?"

"Yes, it’s past two. I saw you hadn’t come out, and I was about to come in and call you to eat. Then I saw you trapped in a nightmare, called you a few times but couldn’t wake you up, so I..."

His gaze settled on the woman’s lips, just moistened by the water, and his voice trailed off.

Amelia thought of the kiss he used to wake her, and her emotions were slightly diverted.

Their eyes met, and they held the gaze for two seconds, the atmosphere ambiguous yet peaceful. Finally, Christopher broke the silence again, "Hungry? Get up and eat something."

"Okay."

Christopher backed the wheelchair to make it easier for her to get out of bed.

After her cry and a good sleep, Amelia had recovered quite a bit.

Recalling the doctor’s advice when Christopher was discharged, she looked up at him while putting on her shoes, frowning, "Why aren’t you lying down yet? Did you forget what the doctor said?"

"I’m fine."

"What’s fine? Lie down quickly. You’ve just recovered to this state, take care of yourself; you’ll soon start rehab again." Amelia frowned and, without saying another word, pushed the wheelchair to the bedside.

Christopher grabbed her hand, his eyes filled with tender affection, "I want to stay with you. Lying in bed is too boring."

Knowing he’s worried about her, Amelia said earnestly, "I’m fine now, you don’t need to worry. Rest well and recover, don’t let me worry."

"Are you sure you’re okay?"

"Hmm." Afraid he wouldn’t believe her, she paused for a second and then shared her true feelings, "Actually, I always hoped deep down that I wasn’t Michael Garcia’s biological daughter. Such a father, whenever I think of him, I feel hatred. This wish I’ve longed for has finally come true; I should be happy and relieved."

"But... I originally thought facing such a truth would shatter the image of my mom. But Jacob Garcia said my mom was forced—so it’s not her fault either, right?"

Christopher quickly responded, "Of course not. She’s a victim, whether it was falling in love with Thomas Smith, accidentally having you, or being forced to marry Michael Garcia and dying in depression, she was always a victim."

"Hmm," Amelia nodded, feeling much more relieved, "so my mom wasn’t wrong, and there’s no disgrace in my birth. Understanding this makes the heartache not as intense. I just feel sorry for her; such a short life, filled with scars and humiliation..."

Christopher held her hand, silently comforting her.

Just momentarily, Amelia regained her vigor, "Alright, you should lie down; I’ll go out and eat something."

"Alright then, if you need anything, let me know. Don’t hold it in alone."

"Hmm..."

After settling Christopher to lie down, Amelia returned to the living room alone.

Aunt Harper was resting in the maid’s room and, hearing noise outside, immediately came out, "Ma’am, are you hungry? Sir instructed me to save the meal for you; I’ll heat it up."

"I’ll do it myself; you take a break. It’s been hard on you taking care of the three kids these days." Amelia smiled faintly.

Aunt Harper saw her red and swollen eyes. Though unaware of what happened, she guessed Amelia wasn’t in a good mood and probably wanted some time alone, so she tactfully agreed and returned to her room.

Amelia heated up lunch and sat quietly at the dining table to eat.

Her phone had been off since yesterday, fortunately not needing to work; otherwise, how could she have stayed disconnected for so long?

She got another phone and logged into WhatsApp. Upon opening, there were many unread messages and numerous friend requests.

Without looking, they were likely from unscrupulous media or netizens.

She ignored them and started checking the unread messages one by one.

Snow, Shaw, and colleagues she used to get along well with were all concerned about her.

She replied to them briefly, one by one.

As soon as she sent those, Snow’s call came in almost immediately.

Her voice was still hoarse, and with the living room so quiet, she worried her speaking might echo and disturb the napping children in the rooms, so she had to hang up.

On WhatsApp, she explained: I’m eating, I’ll call you back later.

Snow replied with an "ok" emoji.

Continuing to scroll down, she saw messages from Charles Smith and also... from Thomas Smith.

Her gaze froze, and she forgot to keep eating, hesitating for a long time before clicking on the conversation thread.

The first message was sent around eight last night: Little Clarke, please call me back when you see this message.

The second was sent in the early morning hours: Little Clarke, things are still being handled. Don’t worry, take care of yourself.

The third message was from this morning: Little Clarke, I’ll be in River City around four this afternoon. I’ll contact you then.

Upon reading this, Amelia was startled and hurriedly checked the time on the top corner of her phone.

It was half-past two.

Which meant he would be on the plane now.

A hard-won calm mind suddenly became chaotic and flustered. An indescribable feeling swept over her, wanting to escape, even a faint sense of repulsion. Her head started spinning.

What to do?

If he wanted to meet, should she go?

After a moment of panic, she quickly composed herself, taking her phone to find Christopher in the bedroom.

Christopher was lying with his eyes closed, lost in thought, when he heard the door open and saw her anxious face. He immediately sat up, "What’s wrong?"

"Look at this," Amelia sat down on the bed and handed him the phone.

Christopher glanced at it, a shift in his expression.

"Do you think he knows about my relation with him?" Amelia asked.

Christopher thought for a moment and then shook his head, "I don’t think so. Right now, only Michael Garcia and Jacob Garcia know, and they probably have no way to contact Thomas Smith."

"What if he contacts me after arriving in River City? Should I meet him?"

"Your phone wasn’t on, he’ll probably call me again, and I’ll respond to him." Yesterday, when contacted, Thomas Smith called him, so he assumed today, if there’s contact, it would still be through him.

Amelia hadn’t figured out how to face this biological father and feared that contacting him would betray her emotions. With Christopher acting as her buffer, she felt a bit more at ease.