The two of them embraced, and Alia’s restless, uneasy heart finally cald down a little.
After quietly lingering together for a while, she suddenly sat up, picked up her phone, and said, "Oh, let make a quick call!"
Christopher was startled, "Call who? The police?"
Alia glanced at him, "The police? Don’t you feel embarrassed? You want these ssy affairs to end up in a police station?"
"Then..."
"I’ll call Jacob!" Alia explained, noticing his confused expression, clearly not rembering who that was. "My half-brother! My stepmother’s son!"
But when Alia searched her contacts, she suddenly realized she didn’t save her brother’s number.
So, she decided to call Lucas King instead.
Christopher listened to her phone conversation, growing more puzzled. "That kid... why is he with Lucas King?"
"Yeah! This is all your arrangent! Lucas said, before your accident, you t that kid, saw that his nature wasn’t entirely bad but that he’d fallen in with bad company and turned into a reckless troublemaker. So you decided to give him a chance—get him into Seal-Cloud Corporation and have him work under Lucas."
For months now, Alia had been too busy to check on how her brother was doing.
With Lucas providing the number, she called Jacob.
To her surprise, the person on the other end recognized her imdiately and cheerfully greeted her first, "Sis, you finally rembered ! I thought you’d completely forgotten you even had a brother!"
The audacity...
Alia froze for a second, slightly uneasy, "Well... I’m calling today because I need your help."
"Sis, there’s no need to be so formal with !" Jacob enthusiastically called her "Sis" repeatedly, speaking sweetly and with such familiarity as if they were truly a close-knit pair of siblings.
"Haha, whatever you need to do, just say the word!"
"It’s like this..."
Alia briefly described today’s events to Jacob. Before she could express what she wanted, he had already figured it out. "Sis, you want to go over there and talk so sense into Dad, right?"
"Mm, you’re his only son. Maybe he’ll listen to you."
Jacob chuckled, the tone tinged with mockery, "He doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings. Forget that I’m his son—even if I were his father, my words wouldn’t sway him."
"..."
"Anyway, since you’ve asked , I’ll definitely go over there. Just send the address."
Alia looked at Christopher, as though seeking his approval.
The man didn’t object, giving her a knowing glance. She understood and agreed with Jacob. After hanging up, she sent him the address.
Christopher smirked faintly and said, "Seems, Michael Garcia has indeed sunk to the point of being abandoned by everyone around him."
"Yes, which makes him dangerous, because he has nothing left to lose. He’s just a rabid dog now."
"Don’t worry. Rabid dogs never have good endings."
————
The powerful, domineering Lincoln ca to a steady stop in front of the Hart family’s old manor, its doors swinging open.
Alia got out first. Gazing upon the familiar, old-fashioned architecture, long-buried mories layered with dust surfaced in her mind one by one.
During her three years of marriage to Christopher, every holiday visit here left her feeling stifled and resistant.
In Imperial Garden, their relationship had already been awkward and stagnant, like a lifeless pond incapable of stirring any ripples.
Coming here, things only froze further—like stepping back into the Ice Age.
Emma Carter had never once looked at her properly. No matter what Alia said or how much silence she kept, no matter where she walked or what she ate, she always seed invisible, like a ghost fading from existence.
If, on rare occasions, the conversation stumbled upon her, it consisted of biting sarcasm and utter disdain.
Thankfully, each ti they ca for a al, Christopher would rush things along, never lingering long—almost as soon as he set down his chopsticks, he’d stand up, claim he had work at the company, and take her with him to leave.
Years later, reflecting back, she suddenly grasped a deeper aning behind those monts.
Could it have been... back then...
Christopher was slower getting out of the car due to needing assistance from several bodyguards with his wheelchair.
Once the wheelchair was settled, he looked up to see Alia standing by the vehicle, her gaze fixed on the old manor, staring blankly. Her exquisitely beautiful face seed faintly clouded with fear, and for a mont, his strikingly handso features fell into quiet stillness.
"Alia... are you still holding onto mories of the past?"
Alia blinked slightly, snapping back to reality, feigning indifference. "Not really... it’s been too long. I’ve mostly forgotten."
She turned to face him, her eyes tracing his deeply handso profile, asking the question weighing on her mind: "Back then, every ti we visited, you always left as soon as the al was over—were you thinking about my feelings?"
At that, Christopher’s expression shifted instantly.
With close scrutiny, one could even spot the poorly hidden embarrassnt and discomfort in his eyes...
As if he’d done sothing shaful that had been exposed.
Alia saw his reaction, nodded slightly, and knew her guess had been correct.
"Why didn’t you make it clear at the ti? If you had been honest with , perhaps... things wouldn’t have ended up like they did."
She had always believed that, because of their misunderstandings, Christopher had long seen her as a calculating, ruthless gold digger, harboring nothing but hatred toward her, devoid of even a shred of affection.
But now, it seed he’d rely been cold on the surface while silently protecting her deep down.
Christopher hadn’t expected her to say such a thing. His eyes widened slightly with surprise, his lips parted, and he stamred quietly, "I... I thought, at the ti, you didn’t love anymore. That you had only married reluctantly because of Grandpa’s insistence and for your grandmother’s dical expenses..."
And n, especially proud young ones, often care too much about their egos to admit pain.
So, even if he’d longed deeply for her in his heart, he wouldn’t dare let it show.
In fact, he’d hated himself for it.
Hated that he could be so entirely used by a woman and yet still unable to let go of her.
How foolish he’d been!
Everything had been a misunderstanding, stemming from his mistrust of the woman he loved most.
Thus, his sins ran deep, and the tornt of these past years felt almost justified.
"Let it go—it’s all in the past now. Right and wrong are water under the bridge." Alia sighed softly, casting aside the tangled web of mories, then moved behind his wheelchair and began pushing him forward.
The Hart family’s old manor was vast; they walked quite a distance before reaching the main house.
Soon, the sound of yelling and reprimanding from the main hall t their ears.
A servant stepped out, startled to see them, then turned back and shouted, "The young master and mistress have returned! It’s really her—the mistress is back!"
Emma Carter’s voice rang out sharply from within upon hearing the servant’s words, furious beyond comprehension, "Are you out of your mind? There’s no mistress anymore! Who’s this mistress you’re talking about!"
The servant fell silent in fear and imdiately backed away.
Michael Garcia had been lounging like a delinquent on the main hall’s steps.
When he heard the servant’s words, he turned his head abruptly and spotted his eldest daughter standing there. His sinister eyes narrowed, and a grin spread across his face.
He stood up, still smiling, and shouted loudly, "Look at that—my eldest daughter and son-in-law have co back!"
Before the words finished leaving his mouth, his tone shifted abruptly, "Oh? Didn’t you bring the kids along? Aren’t there three of them? My daughter is truly extraordinary—having triplets, it’s amazing!"
Alia felt deeply disgusted at his words.
Staring at the familiar face of the middle-aged man in front of her, she felt as if he were a stranger.
How could soone live in such a repulsive and loathso way?
Emma Carter caught sight of them, torn between joy and anger.
Joy, naturally because her son had returned, and he seed to be recovering well. As his mother, she inevitably felt happiness.
—No matter how much she asserted they’d severed ties, deep down, it was a bond she couldn’t cut.
Anger, of course, stemd from seeing Alia, who, in her eyes, was the source of all her conflicts, misfortunes, pain, and regrets.
—Even now, she couldn’t understand why her son had been so bewitched, so utterly fixated on her.
If not for Alia, the once admired, affluent Hart family wouldn’t have fallen into this pitiful state.
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