Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy! Chapter 148: Ex-Husband and Biological Father Show Up Togeth

In the early morning, Hope woke up.

Seeing her mother’s smiling face, she smiled sweetly and tenderly too, climbing up and hurling herself into Alia Garcia’s embrace.

Mother and daughter giggled foolishly together, their heads pressed close as they gazed at each other.

"Mom, I thought when I woke up, you would have disappeared again! That’s always what happened before."

Straddling her mother’s waist, the little girl pulled at her mother’s hair, her coquettish and soft manner lting anyone’s heart.

Alia felt a wave of sourness in her heart, and gently promised with her forehead against her daughter’s, "Not anymore. Daddy said that from now on, you can co over to Mommy’s place often and even stay a few days—are you happy about that?"

She had expected her daughter to cheer.

But upon hearing this, the little girl suddenly turned her head away, creating so distance, frowning her pretty little face.

"What’s wrong?"

"So, you really did fight, and you’re not planning to see each other anymore, are you?"

"Uh—"

"Hmph! I knew it." Hope got angry, clamoring off her mother and burrowing back under the covers, mumbling, "These days, Daddy’s been grumpy every day, really bad-tempered, and he wouldn’t even call you when I asked him to."

Seeing her daughter unhappy, Alia sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her face, "Hope... the adult world is very complicated, and you’re too young to understand right now."

"There it is again." The little girl’s voice was milkily childish, but her tone was precociously serious, "Daddy always says that, too. You adults always have just those few things to say when you’re fooling kids."

Alia couldn’t help but laugh, pinching her daughter’s nose, "It’s not fooling, it’s true."

"It’s not true."

Watching her daughter’s stubborn deanor, both adorable and amusing, Alia tousled her hair and coaxed, "Alright, get up and have breakfast. Mom’s not going to work today. I’ll spend the whole day with you."

Having said that, she got up to get so clothes.

Last night, when she was passing a children’s clothing store on the street, she had stopped the car to hurriedly pick out a few items, otherwise the little one wouldn’t have had anything to wear today.

But Hope grabbed her hand, "Mommy..."

"What’s wrong, sweetheart?"

Hope clutched her hand, pulling her back, "Mommy, Daddy likes you, so please forgive him. I want to live with both Mommy and Daddy, I don’t want to live apart."

Alia was taken aback, looking at her daughter’s sincere little face, feelings of bitterness and regret welling up inside her.

"Hope, you still—"

"Don’t say I’m too young to understand anything, I understand a lot! If Daddy didn’t like you, why would he keep all your stuff?"

Alia was startled again, her gaze fixed on her daughter, her expression frozen.

"It’s true. Ever since I was little, I’ve known what Mommy looks like because there are photos of you at ho, lots of them... and your clothes, things you’ve used, we have them all."

That was indeed true.

Christopher Hart had never hidden the existence of his "ex-wife" from their daughter.

Ever since the little girl beca aware, he had carefully "educated" her about her mother’s existence—with photos, clothes, jewelry, and even so everyday items that had been long preserved.

He said, "Mommy is always with you through these things, they all hold Mommy’s shadow."

It was precisely because Hope was so familiar with her mother that she was able to recognize Alia Garcia imdiately upon seeing her, clinging to her and calling out ’Mommy, mommy, mommy.’

Listening to her daughter, Alia felt her mind was in turmoil again.

To be honest, she too was shocked the first ti she saw the photos her daughter brought out.

She thought that Christopher hated her so much, he would have thrown away all her things the mont they divorced.

Moreover, she had died a few months after the divorce.

The belongings of the deceased were even less necessary to keep.

So what was he really thinking?

Was it just to maintain the image of the perfect father in front of his daughter, or was it that he genuinely still had feelings for her...

Hope saw that her mother didn’t speak, imdiately climbed up again, and wrapped her arms around her neck coquettishly, "Mom... you like Dad too, right? Even though he has a really bad temper, he is still quite nice to people, please forgive him this ti."

Alia had no way to deal with her daughter and tapped her on the forehead, "I seriously suspect your dad purposely left you here to act as his lobbyist!"

Didn’t that jerk just say last night that his daughter hasn’t liked him these days?

She hasn’t liked him and still speaks up for him?

Ha! Like father, like daughter, indeed. That little wretch, too clever by half, can’t be underestimated!

"Mom, what’s a lobbyist? Is it like going to soone else’s house to sleep over as a guest?"

Alia couldn’t be bothered to respond, simply carrying her out.

Her new clothes were washed last night and still hanging on the balcony, she needed to go out and get dressed.

"Lobbyist, huh... you’re so clever, figure it out yourself."

"Hmm... No! Tell , Mom."

"Hmph, I’m not telling you!"

"Mom’s so naughty!"

The mother and daughter were playing and laughing; just as Hope finished getting dressed, Alia’s phone rang.

She glanced at it, an unfamiliar number.

Strange, who could it be?

She picked up the phone, while reminding her daughter to go brush her teeth and wash her face, she answered the call, "Hello, this is she."

There was silence on the other end.

Alia grew more puzzled, taking the phone away from her ear to look.

Who was it? Calling and then not saying anything.

Could it be Christopher changing his number and calling?

But that was unnecessary!

They had already had an open and honest discussion the night before.

"Hello, please speak up, or I’m hanging up." After a few seconds of silence, she threatened and was about to speak again when, suddenly, the silence broke, startling Alia.

"Alia, is it really you? They said you weren’t dead, that you’ve co back, I can hardly believe it..."

That familiar tone!

Although Alia was indifferent toward this man, she still recognized his voice.

Her biological father, Michael Garcia.

Since her "resurrection," she’d seen Michael Garcia a few tis, but he had never looked her in the eye.

Normally, a father losing a daughter, the grief of sending off a younger soul is unbearable.

If he encountered a girl who resembled his daughter, he would certainly be overwheld with excitent, even breaking down in tears, longing to hold her and talk to her, finding solace in his mories of his lost child.

But Michael Garcia had seen her several tis, and after looking her over a bit the first ti, he subsequently ignored her entirely.

This indifference towards her, and yet calling today, what was his intention?

After her initial surprise, Alia swiftly surmised it must be a matter of "no news is good news."

"What do you want with ?" She asked, unusually calm and detached, not treating him like a father at all.

Michael Garcia did catch his breath, "Your last na is Garcia! I am your dad! You were clearly alive but faked your death, disappearing without a trace for over four years, and now that you’re back, shouldn’t you co to visit ho? Yet you ask your old man what he wants with you!"

If Alia were still the obedient girl from before, maybe she would have been intimidated by these words.

But she had died once; what was there to be afraid of?

With a faint smile, she spoke unhurriedly, "I’m not a Garcia, and I don’t have a ho. My na is Clarke Norton, an overseas Chinese, perhaps Mr. Garcia has made a mistake?"