The room fell silent for a few seconds before his voice ca through.
"...I’m here."
You’re not asleep?
She pursed her lips, speaking softly, "Then... I have to go now. Lie on your side for a while and wait until your back is dry, then have the caregiver help you turn over and lie flat."
Seeing that he did not respond, Alia Garcia fell silent as well and turned away.
"How long will you keep up this virtue?"
His voice suddenly ca from behind her, making her stiffen and turn back.
Christopher Hart had opened his eyes, and because he was lying on his side, his gaze serenely landed on so indistinct spot, as if he were talking to himself.
Seeing that he still harped on this question in his mind, Alia felt sowhat powerless and seriously asked, "Can’t we get along like friends aside from love and affection? I’ll just consider it as taking care of a friend. Besides, you are the father of our children."
After her words, without waiting for his response, she added, "If you feel that by doing this, I’m causing you misunderstandings and annoyance, then I won’t co. You just behave and listen to the doctors, and cooperate well with the treatnt."
"I..." Reason told him that if this woman had made up her mind not to look back, then parting ways was indeed the best outco.
In his state, there was no need to trap her.
Love can also an granting freedom, letting her choose according to her heart.
But when the words ca to his lips, he discovered that he couldn’t be so magnanimous.
Even though he was now crippled and might live the rest of his life as a burden, he still didn’t want to let go.
Therefore, it was no wonder Alia was unwilling to turn back.
He was indeed an out-and-out scoundrel—selfish, dominating, unreasonable, and even cruel!
Anyone with a brain would long to stay away from such a scoundrel.
When Alia saw him begin to speak but not quite manage to clarify, she tilted her head slightly and looked at him, "What... what’s wrong?"
"I didn’t an that, nor am I annoyed with you." He explained softly, hesitating for a mont before adding, "It’s just that... you are already working hard taking care of the kids and managing work, and now you have to take care of too..."
"Huh, am I hearing right? You can actually be understanding?" Alia knew that wasn’t really what he wanted to say, so she deliberately made light of it.
Christopher Hart, subjected to her sarcasm, didn’t continue that line of conversation, simply stating, "You can go, don’t let hold up your affairs."
Alia turned to leave, but as her gaze shifted, she saw the lonely, pitiful figure of him lying on his side, his brows tightly furrowed, his face pale.
For so reason, she suddenly turned back and blurted out courageously, "Christopher Hart, haven’t you always been asking for my forgiveness?"
The man’s eyelashes lifted, his face showing turbulent excitent, "You... what do you an? Are you willing to forgive ?"
"That won’t co so easily, but if you strive hard enough, it wouldn’t be impossible."
Strive hard?
He held his breath, his focus absolute, waiting for her to continue.
"If you can recover in this lifeti, I will forgive you," Alia announced, her tone clear and firm.
But after this statent, the man’s expression turned grave again.
"You’re trying to provoke ..."
"Think what you want, I have my reasons. If you give up hope and continue to be irritable like this, why should I subject myself to accommodate you? I’m no masochist, wouldn’t it be wonderful for to live freely with my children?"
"If you can pull yourself together, heal well, and cooperate with the doctors’ treatnt—be it five years, ten years, or even twenty years, I will wait."
"You owe too much, haven’t you always wanted to make it up? How can you, if you just lie there all day unable to move?"
Seeing his face settled into an icy rigidity, yet his eyes subtly trembling as though his emotions were unstable, Alia withdrew her gaze and finally said, "I’ve said my piece. It’s ultimately your life and future, and it’s up to you to decide what to do."
As her words ceased, Alia opened the door and left.
Back in his room, after a while, Christopher Hart suddenly ca to his senses and desperately asked towards the door, "After you’ve forgiven , can you give another chance? Can we... start over!"
The room fell silent after he spoke, with no response.
He realized then that she had already left.
His complexion returned to a silent stillness, as if all his life force had been taken away with her.
But after a mont of quiet, he suddenly seed to find hope again, a determined light forming in his hollow eyes.
————
It was difficult to say whether Lucas King was highly efficient or if it was just easier to get things done under Christopher Hart’s na.
Two days later, indeed, Lucas King delivered so news.
"Ma’am, that Olivia Williams has been found. She’s a kept woman of a wealthy businessman, currently accompanying him on a business trip in the United States."
Alia Garcia chuckled coldly, "A mistress?"
"Yep."
No wonder...
That explained it.
She had thought that those who ca to Venus Private Custom were either wealthy or noble and shouldn’t be desperate enough for a bit of profit to do such immoral things.
But if she was just a mistress, that made sense.
Searching for ways to accumulate wealth by any ans necessary.
"When will they be back? I can’t wait any longer."
"They are supposed to be attending so kind of summit, and maybe they’ll take so ti to sightsee. Without ten days to a half a month, they won’t return."
Lucas King explained, knowing Alia was anxious; he imdiately added, "But that doesn’t an there isn’t a way. President Hart says he can find soone, and we might get a reply today."
Alia was surprised, "He has a way? He’s lying there immobilized, not even able to make a phone call..."
She stopped mid-sentence, realizing she was belittling him, and paused.
Lucas King clarified, "That businessman, an old man in his fifties or sixties, is acquainted with... Old Master Hart. President Hart is probably going to ask Old Master Hart to intervene."
"..." Alia clutched her phone, at a loss for words.
Their father-son relationship was like fire and water.
Moreover, if George Hart knew about his son’s injury and that he was still busying himself for her sake, he would likely only get angrier—would he help?
"Lucas, tell him there’s no need, I’ll figure sothing else out. Just have him focus on healing."
"Ma’am... you know President Hart’s intentions; if you have sothing to say, you should tell him yourself. Oh, you don’t know his hospital phone number, do you? I’ll send it to you, and if you need to, you can call him directly; the caregiver will switch it to speaker for him."
Alia was about to say it wasn’t necessary, but Lucas hastily hung up and quickly sent her the hospital room’s landline number.
Glancing at it, she frowned in thought, not wishing to call.
But she was also worried that he might plead with George Hart, and if father and son were to argue, it might lead to anger and upset, further detrintal to his recovery.
"Such a hassle..." she muttered, and still, she made the call.
Once connected, indeed, it was the caregiver who answered.
But when she identified herself, the caregiver seed troubled, "Miss Garcia, Mr. Hart... he’s still asleep..."
He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake the man only to be yelled at again.
Hearing this, Alia quickly said, "Then never mind, we’ll talk when he wakes up."
Just as she was about to hang up, she suddenly heard an urgent call from the other side, "Miss Garcia, Mr. Hart is awake, just wait." Without waiting for her to reply, the caregiver imdiately switched the phone to speaker.
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