"Is it still about Hope’s custody?"
"Of course."
"There’s nothing to discuss then. If you want to live with Hope, there’s only one way—co back here." He nodded with his chin, his attitude exceptionally firm.
Alia Garcia turned her head away, laughing angrily.
"Don’t you feel shaless saying that? Your fiancée is still lying in the hospital with a broken leg because of you, and you have no intention of taking responsibility, yet you’re still entangled with your ex-wife."
Putting aside Lily Garcia’s character, Christopher Hart’s behavior was simply inhumane.
The man’s expression was indifferent, "I’m handling that matter; you don’t need to worry."
"How are you handling it? Using your power to make her disappear?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, "Why have you beco so aggressive?"
He had told her it was his issue to deal with, so why couldn’t this woman let it go?
Alia found his words absurd, "I’m pressing you? Isn’t it you who has always been pressuring ?"
"Is that right? Then tell , how have I been pressing you?"
He looked ready for a detailed account, which truly provoked Alia.
"You’ve pushed to complete ruin, from a glamorous jewelry designer to a despised ’Fox Spirit’ mistress—wasn’t that your doing?"
Christopher Hart chuckled, "That’s a grudge between you and Lily. How can you bla for it? When have I not taken the bla for you?"
"Taking the bla for ? You practically confird it for everyone!"
"That’s not my fault. If I had known who you were from the start, I would never have let any of this happen."
He had never intended to destroy his ex-wife.
Alia was startled.
Looking at the sudden affection on his face, her heart raced, feeling unable to continue.
After a pause, she irritably ran her fingers through her hair, "You have a slick tongue; I can’t win this. Anyway, I must take Hope with . If you don’t agree, we’ll have to go through legal channels."
With those words, she turned to leave.
But Christopher Hart reacted quickly, reaching out and grabbing her slender, delicate wrist.
In the next second, he pulled her into his embrace.
Alia frowned deeply, raised her hand to slap, and yelled furiously, "Christopher Hart, enough already! Stop using this tactic, do you think you look cool? It’s greasy and disgusting!"
The man paid no heed, one arm wrapping around her waist, almost closing around her completely.
His other hand forcibly tilted her chin upward, compelling her to suddenly look up.
Alia’s words halted abruptly, forced to et his gaze.
Her breath beca unsteady, the hair at the tip of her nose fluttered with his breath and then landed on her cheek.
It was a bit ticklish.
But she endured it, her seductive almond-shaped eyes glaring at him with resentnt.
"Let go!" She spat out the words between gritted teeth.
Of course, the man did not let go.
He stared intently at her face, wondering if this was really the sa girl he had known since childhood.
How did she evolve from a fresh and pleasant little jasmine into a thorny wild rose?
"You think you stand a chance going through legal channels?"
After a while, he spoke.
Alia knew what he ant, her anger heightened, and she declared with finality in his palm, "If it doesn’t work once, I’ll appeal, I’ll keep appealing until I win."
The man laughed, "You sound a bit foolish saying that. You think you can outlast ?"
"What if I can?"
"What if..." He laughed again, moving the thumb on her cheek, pressing it to her lips, "Even if you tead up with my parents, there’s no possibility of a ’what if’ winning."
Her heart skipped a beat. Did he know everything?
"Moreover, have you considered the consequences of acknowledging your identity?" Christopher Hart asked in a low voice.
"Consequences?" Alia paused, then said lightly, "As long as I can take Hope back, I’m not afraid of any consequences."
Speaking of identity, Christopher Hart suddenly frowned, rembering sothing, "Right."
His gaze dropped to her chest.
The hand that had originally been holding her chin suddenly pulled open her V-neckline.
Alia Garcia was so startled she nearly exploded with fright, quickly covering herself: "What are you doing!"
She turned as red as a cooked shrimp and began to struggle violently, completely unable to accept his thuggish behavior!
Christopher Hart held her tight, letting her thrash and roll in his arms, but he wouldn’t let go.
"You’re thinking too much. I was just curious where the mole on your chest went."
Alia Garcia suddenly stopped and stared at him.
It turned out she had misunderstood...
The atmosphere grew silent, she swallowed, and tugged at her collar irritably: "That’s none of your business!"
The man smiled, hands encircling her, and his handso face leaned down with an ambiguous charm, "Didn’t you know... I really liked that mole, especially when kissing—"
Before he could finish, his mouth was urgently covered by the woman.
Her eyes, brimming with bashfulness, seed almost ready to overflow.
She covered his mouth instinctively, not allowing him to continue. But as she realized that this gesture was quite audacious, the embarrassnt and anger intensified.
She quickly withdrew her hand and turned to flee!
But the man didn’t give her the chance.
As she took her hand away, he leaned in, gripped her chin, and kissed her deeply.
"Mmm—"
The woman’s eyes widened in shock, and as she raised her hand to strike him, he caught her wrist in a firm grip, twisting it behind her back to hold her in place.
This movent brought them even closer together, her entire body crashing into his embrace.
All the oxygen in her chest was expelled, and she wrinkled her brow, closing her mouth tight in struggle, but the man, using his height advantage, locked her firmly in his arms. No matter where she tried to hide, she couldn’t escape his demanding kiss.
"Even if we cast aside all the past conflicts and misunderstandings and start over, would that not be enough?"
In the midst of their struggle, the man’s thin lips brushed against hers, murmuring as if asking a question, suddenly uttering these words.
Her resisting body suddenly stiffened in his embrace.
Separated only by the fabric of their clothes, they could both hear each other’s heartbeat.
ssy, heavy, yet miraculously in resonance.
Christopher Hart dared not look at her, just held her tight, his handso face buried in the side of her neck.
"No matter who was right or wrong, it’s all in the past, over four years ago. What can’t be forgotten now, huh?"
"Or, let’s pretend Alia Garcia is already dead. You are now Clarke Norton, a jewelry designer. You’ve just t —let’s start over."
His voice was low and gentle, seriously lingering.
Because their chests were pressed close, every sound he made vibrated against her bones.
It was clearly a single sentence, yet it felt as if she heard it twice.
Once with her ears.
Once with her heart.
Alia Garcia was completely disarrayed, held like a puppet in his arms, unresponsive.
But deep in her heart, it was like a boiling firework, lighting up sothing in an instant.
How beautiful it sounded.
All past vanished, everything starting anew.
However, things weren’t as simple as he thought, were they?
Lily Garcia wouldn’t step aside.
The Hart Family wouldn’t agree.
She couldn’t even get past this herself.
And, when he found out she was hiding two sons, he would definitely rage like thunder, and everything he said now would vanish into thin air like a fart.
Reason was screaming not to listen, not to believe, yet her hands felt anesthetized by him, losing the strength to push him away.
Fortunately, a noise suddenly ca from the living room downstairs.
"Yo~ are we interrupting sothing here? We didn’t disturb you guys, did we?"
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