Fiona Marshall was about to jump up again, but Emma Carter quickly held her down, "Oh, why are you in such a hurry at this mont? Let’s go, let’s go, let’s sit sowhere else and have a good talk."
"Don’t pull , you’re just taking your son’s side!"
"How could that be? I’ve always treated Lily like my daughter. Whether the marriage happens or not, Lily is my goddaughter, alright?"
Alia Garcia stood by the bed, continuing to stroke her daughter’s head as mother and daughter foolishly smiled at each other.
However, there was also a touch of cold mockery in those smiles.
Emma Carter had once said the sa thing to her.
Fiona Marshall, seeing Emma Carter’s good attitude, felt the anger inside her, although it was hard to let it out, and could only be reluctantly dragged away by her.
Michael Garcia breathed a sigh of relief, hurriedly grabbed his wife’s bag, and followed.
From beginning to end, he never even looked directly at the "mistress" who resembled his eldest daughter so much.
Before Emma Carter left, she gave her son a warning glance, with her gaze finally glancing towards the woman standing by the bedside.
Christopher Hart understood it all but did not intend to pay any attention.
The ward beca quiet, and Aunt Harper looked at the two, tactfully and silently made her exit.
Hope had been hugging her mom all along, burying her face in her mom’s embrace, occasionally looking up with a smile.
Now that everyone had left, she finally pouted her little mouth softly and called out, "Mommy, you finally ca to see , can you not leave again..."
Alia Garcia pinched her daughter’s soft little cheek, cajoling, "Mommy has work to do too, how can she stay with you all the ti?"
"Then, after you’re done with work, co back every night."
She smiled but did not respond.
Footsteps approached from behind.
She did not turn around, but her nerves involuntarily tensed from head to toe, her ears perking up as if soone was pulling them.
"Weren’t you supposed to wait until Hope gets discharged to go to our house?" Christopher Hart approached, his voice low and calm.
Alia Garcia startled and turned to look at him, "What, do I need your permission now to see Hope?"
That wasn’t what Christopher Hart ant at all.
But as soon as the two of them started talking, the air was instantly filled with the sll of gunpowder.
Before, watching her appear with her mother, Christopher Hart’s heart hung in his throat, worried that she might be taken advantage of again, even more afraid that Fiona Marshall wouldn’t let her go.
But those words, in her mockery, lost the courage to be spoken.
Luckily, Hope was a clever little thing.
Knowing that Daddy and Mommy were having a disagreent, the little girl mysteriously waved Daddy over with a playful and spirited gesture.
Christopher Hart smiled faintly at his daughter, walking over, "What’s the matter, baby?"
As he approached, Alia Garcia imdiately moved toward the head of the bed to avoid him.
Hope grabbed Christopher Hart’s big hand and led him toward Alia Garcia’s embrace, trying to play matchmaker, "Daddy, you are a boy... The cartoons all say so, boys should take the initiative, be more generous, quickly give Mommy a hug, coax her~"
"Hope!" Alia Garcia was so frightened she almost jumped up and tried to dodge again, but there was no space left to escape.
Christopher Hart had a fire burning inside, but seeing his daughter so on point, how could he miss the opportunity? He grabbed the woman’s hand, his sexy lips curled, "Okay, Daddy will listen to his baby."
"Christopher Hart!" Alia Garcia gritted her teeth, glaring at him hatefully, "The child doesn’t understand, do you not either? Let go!"
"Look, baby, Daddy listens to you, Mommy doesn’t listen, you should persuade her too." Christopher Hart didn’t argue with her, directly turning his head to appeal to his daughter for help.
Hope imdiately tried to persuade, "Mommy, you can’t always be angry, girls who get angry grow old, then they won’t be pretty!"
"..." Alia Garcia just wanted to roll her eyes.
Her brothers say their sister is foolish, but where was she foolish?
She was clearly a "know-it-all"!
"Mommy, hurry up!" Seeing Alia Garcia not moving, Hope urged anxiously.
Knowing she was bashful, Christopher Hart didn’t make it difficult for her, imdiately took a step forward, and directly swept her into his arms.
"You—"
Alia’s face flushed crimson, and all she could breathe in was his rich, masculine scent.
Her heartbeat lost its rhythm, and she tried her best to look away, to ignore him, not to respond.
Christopher’s lips curled wickedly. Taking advantage of her distraction, he bent down and kissed her forehead.
"In front of our daughter, even if it’s just acting, we have to keep it up, right?"
After saying this, he didn’t wait for the woman to respond and maliciously added, "Isn’t acting your forte? You played it so well before that everyone believed you."
Alia whipped her head around, her eyes wide with incredulity, and anger gathered in her chest.
But the man raised an eyebrow, his handso face full of smiles, looking utterly innocent yet seemingly questioning.
—Was I not right?
Steam practically spouting from her head, Alia struggled fiercely, but the man’s arms were like ropes, binding her so she couldn’t break free.
The pair jockeyed in a subtle tussle, their bodies swaying slightly. Hope watched, thinking they were playing, wishing she could join in.
"Christopher!" She gritted her teeth, her angry warning hissing between them.
"Hmm?"
"Let go of !"
"Our daughter asked to hold you."
"Do you think this is fun?"
"Quite fun."
He looked at the little woman in his arms who struggled until her ears were red, and his swelling displeasure finally dissipated a bit.
After their little skirmish, Christopher suddenly stiffened, and almost at the sa mont, Alia felt sothing amiss and abruptly ceased her struggling.
She looked up incredulously, eting his complex, indiscernible expression, her beautiful face a mix of sha and anger.
"You... Have you no sha!" she whispered fiercely, her cheeks nearly dripping with blood.
Christopher was also quite embarrassed.
Having lived a celibate life for over four years, with little female contact and certainly no intimacy, holding his ex-wife, whom he hadn’t touched in three years, was unnerving. She was soft and fragrant, her body teasing him, squirming like a restless little kitten—
If he had no reaction at all, he wouldn’t be a man.
Yet having this pointed out by a woman to his face, it was still sowhat of a blow to his pride.
However, if one thought he’d just roll over, they’d be mistaken.
After a mont’s embarrassnt, he chuckled and retorted confidently, "It’s a perfectly normal reaction, what’s so shaless about it? You’ve given birth to a child, you’re not ignorant about these things."
"You—" Alia hadn’t expected him to be so shalessly bold in front of their daughter, leaving her speechless, punching his shoulder in frustration.
Not to be outdone, the man perked up, "Flirting and quarreling? Want to give this side a punch too?"
He even shrugged purposely, offering his other shoulder.
Alia: "..."
She regretted it!
She shouldn’t have impulsively co here today, intending to confront him and tear apart any pretense, but now, the situation had spiraled, and she couldn’t hold a serious conversation!
"What, afraid to hit ?"
"Can you be any more shaless!"
As they continued their intimate bickering, the hospital room door suddenly burst open.
Alia was startled and instinctively pushed the man away. Looking up, there was Emma Carter, her eyes furiously fixed on Alia, as if she was ready to pounce and shred her to pieces.
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