Christopher Hart turned off the stove and looked at her.
The autumn was deepening, and there was a hint of chill in the air morning and evening.
Yet he was only in a shirt, sweating profusely from being so busy.
His deep eyes fixed on the woman’s indifferent beauty, he raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead before speaking slowly, "Who said that everything I’m doing is to impress you?"
The woman raised her eyelashes as if to question, is that not the case?
"I’m trying to bridge the gap with the children and, by doing so, ease my own conscience a bit. As for whether you appreciate it, that’s up to you."
"Is that so?" Alia Garcia wouldn’t be fooled by his few words and imdiately responded, "If I tell you to leave now, will you leave?"
Christopher Hart was about to pour out the chicken soup when he stopped at her words, then turned back to look at her.
Seeing her expressionless face and detached deanor, he pursed his lips, nodded, and said, "Fine, after dinner, I’ll clean up the kitchen and leave naturally."
"No need, leave now."
She was without any wiggle room.
Christopher’s face also darkened, "Do you insist on this?"
"Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Indeed—do you have to be like this?"
She had refused ti and ti again, made her stance clear, yet he continued to feign deafness and act on his own—now suddenly blaming her for being unsympathetic?
Christopher Hart felt helpless; he had been busy in the kitchen all afternoon.
He had assud that by lowering himself to this extent, even if she had a heart of stone, she would soften sowhat.
But why...
He felt suffocated, but he knew that getting angry would accomplish nothing and would only push her further away, so after a few seconds of silence, he cald down.
"Alia, whether you admit it or not, we have three children between us, and it’s impossible for us to have no relation to each other. If you’re looking for soone to bla, bla the heavens for making you pregnant with them, bla yourself for giving birth to them. Anyway, no matter what, I’m not letting go."
"Shaless! How can you say that with such confidence? Don’t you have any dignity?"
The man faintly pulled at the corner of his mouth, "What need do I have for face in front of you? I want you and the children."
Alia Garcia stared at him furiously, speechless with anger. After a few rigid seconds, she turned and stord out, slamming the door behind her.
Christopher Hart breathed a sigh of relief and quickly poured out the chicken soup, then served the food for the children.
"Go wash your hands; it’s ti to eat." In the dining room, he laid out all the bowls and chopsticks and called the children.
But his gaze swept around, and there was no sign of Alia.
Ethan ca over and sat down, and Christopher asked, "Where’s your mom?"
The little guy turned his head to look and said, "I don’t know."
Noah ca over and asked bluntly, "Did you make mom angry again? Hmph! Later on, take your dog and go away, I don’t care!"
He had seen mom’s upset face, and then she had gone into the bedroom and closed the door. He knew it was the Scumbag Father who had made mom angry again.
On hearing this, Ethan panicked, "No! Mom already agreed to keep Little Dunham!"
"Are you stupid? Which is more important, mom or Little Dunham?"
"I don’t care; I want both Little Dunham and mom!"
Noah looked at his useless little brother, grinding his teeth in frustration.
Christopher Hart ignored the children, washed his hands, took off his apron, and headed toward the bedroom.
Noah saw him and imdiately ran over to block him: "You are not allowed to bother mom anymore!"
Christopher Hart looked at his eldest son, didn’t argue with him, and rely reminded him lightly, "Little Dunham is crying because he’s hungry. Aren’t you going to feed him?"
The little guy turned to look.
Sure enough, the fluffy little golden retriever was probably slling the food and was circling around the dining table anxiously, whining continuously.
And that big fool of a younger brother, he actually threw a whole bone to it.
"You’re so dumb! It’s still a baby, how is it supposed to eat such a big bone?"
The brother was always so worried, panicking that Little Dunham might choke on the bone, he cursed while rushing over.
Christopher Hart approached the master bedroom door, reached out to turn the knob, and unsurprisingly, it was locked.
He knocked softly, "Ti to eat."
Alia Garcia was sitting in the bedroom, fuming, and it was unclear what exactly she was angry about, but she just didn’t want to see that man.
Heard the knock, and she turned her head and yelled irritably, "Why haven’t you left yet?"
"Co out and eat, I’ll leave after dinner."
"I’m not hungry."
"You need to eat even if you’re not hungry, you’ve gotten as thin as a rake."
"Mind your own business!"
"I’m not minding your business, your body is not just your own, it’s also the kids’. What will they do if you get sick? Noah worries so much, he’d be terrified."
That was pure scaremongering.
Who would get sick just because they skipped one dinner?
But Alia knew all too well that this guy was shaless and relentless.
If she didn’t go out, he really might keep this up indefinitely.
Grinding her teeth in secret frustration, she suddenly got up and walked to the door, unlocking it.
"If I eat, will you scram?"
Seeing her open the door, Christopher thought about the children in the dining room and the rare opportunity, so he quickly squeezed into the room.
Alia realized his intention too late to stop him.
"What are you doing in here? Get out!" The woman realized she had been tricked and was so angry that she raised her hand to hit him while pushing him out.
Christopher Hart, tall and imposing, stood unmoved like a mountain. He lifted his arm and caught the woman’s wrist, pulling her into his embrace.
Alia was imdiately even angrier, like a cat whose fur had been rubbed the wrong way.
But before she could lash out, the man said seriously, "Stop it, I have to talk to you about Lily Garcia."
Sure enough, the woman froze in her movents, looked at him, and went quiet.
Christopher slightly curved his lips into a smile, "You see, you say this matter doesn’t concern you, but you actually do care."
"I don’t care about her, and I’m definitely not concerned about you! I’m just worried that woman might lose it and harm the children. Even if you’re capable and can have people protect them, who knows if there won’t be an accident?"
"Don’t worry, there won’t be any accidents. I’ve handed her over to my mom," said the man, lowering his eyes with a subtle look that could be considered self-mockery, "Is this what’s called... ’a thief out-thieving another thief’?"
"What do you an?" Alia didn’t understand.
"It’s literal. She insisted on pinning her illegitimate brat on . So, I decided to ’go along with her sche’ and let my mom take her back to the Hart family’s old mansion under the pretense of—taking care of her, letting her properly bear and birth the child."
The man spoke slowly and thodically, even looking like he was seeking the woman’s praise, "It’s reasonable, right? Also, everyone knows she deceived , the Hart Family—a serious cri. Now I repay her deceit with kindness. Even if she manages to spread rumors through so channel, the outside world won’t believe her, will they? They will only think I’m kind-hearted, responsible, and dutiful."
"But with her under my mother’s watch, she shouldn’t be stirring up any trouble. Once she gives birth to that ’brat’, no, we don’t even have to wait that long, perhaps in a month or two we can do an amniocentesis, and I’ll be able to prove my innocence."
"By the way, this gives my mom sothing to do during this ti, which should keep her from bothering you and fighting over the kids with you."
Christopher Hart was usually a man of few words, but in front of the woman he deeply loved, he did not skimp on explanations, making everything crystal clear, fearing any slight misunderstanding between them.
Alia listened closely, her eyes widening continuously, a look of shock flashing through them.
This guy was just too despicable.
"You’re really sothing! You even sched against your own mother!" she criticized wholeheartedly.
Mr. Hart smiled, "Is that a complint?"
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