"Aren’t you still in the hospital? What are you doing back?" Emma Carter glanced at her son, then shifted her gaze away before asking impatiently.
Before the two could speak, Emma’s gaze had already landed on Alia Garcia. Her expression beca even more disdainful and annoyed: "You’re shaless! Christopher has already been dragged into this ss because of you, and you still won’t let him go!"
Emma Carter had deliberately chosen to call Alia, intending to keep her son out of this matter, unwilling to let him be inconvenienced by unnecessary trouble.
She assud it was Alia who had brought her son here.
Christopher Hart’s face was already clouded, and upon hearing this, he suppressed his anger as he explained, "Mom, it’s not her fault. Wendy called ."
Before his words finished, Wendy Hart’s voice ca from the main hall, "Mom, I was the one who called my brother."
Emma turned to look at her daughter, her gaze filled with reproach, though she said nothing.
"Fine, do whatever you want. Now let’s discuss what to do next... Money — we won’t give you a single di! Let speak plainly: I wouldn’t even give you a scrap ant for beggars!"
The "you" in this sentence clearly grouped Alia Garcia and Michael Garcia together.
Michael Garcia imdiately grew agitated. "Emma Carter! You old witch! Heartless and cruel!"
"Michael Garcia! What are you, exactly? How dare you speak to like that! Look at the children you’ve raised — one more shaless than the other! And take a close look at yourself — are you even human? You’re worse than an animal!"
"Emma Carter!" Michael Garcia was so furious he struggled to his feet, his face red and his neck bulging, yelling, "What noble origins do you co from yourself? You only married well, had good luck! Back when Alia’s mother was alive, you’d fawn over her constantly!"
"You have the audacity to bring up Abigail? Had she not been blind enough to marry a brute like you, would she have died so early from the stress? Let tell you straight — I’ve never thought highly of you! My past dealings with the Garcia family were only because of Abigail. Without her, who do you think you are?"
This stung Alia, her lashes lifting slightly as she looked at Emma Carter.
Suddenly, it all made sense to her...
Emma’s resentnt and rejection of her stemd from this reason.
Her mother was gone. The Garcia family had fallen. Emma Carter despised them from the bottom of her heart.
Naturally, she wouldn’t want her to be with Christopher Hart.
It seed Wendy’s hostility toward her was rely a front.
The real mastermind behind the rejection was Emma Carter.
Christopher Hart hadn’t expected to hear all this from his mother’s mouth. His dark eyes widened in surprise, and then he turned toward the woman standing beside him.
"Alia..." he murmured softly, his voice full of worry.
Alia’s heart was a whirlwind of emotions, but she was clear that none of this was Christopher’s fault. She forced a smile at him, signaling that she was fine.
Indeed, there was nothing worth dwelling on.
Over the years, she’d endured plenty of Emma’s rejection and disdain, not to ntion countless harsh words. What was this compared to all that?
Michael Garcia, however, seed dumbfounded by Emma’s domineering tirade, montarily rendered speechless.
A few seconds of tense silence lingered. He glanced around nervously and waved his hand dismissively, saying, "I don’t care! My daughter has already given the Hart family a child! You must pay this sum of money! Besides, look at your son now—what’s he capable of? His legs are crippled, right? He’s confined to a wheelchair. Won’t my daughter have to care for him for the rest of his life? Asking for that bit of money isn’t unreasonable! If you don’t—"
"Michael Garcia!" Alia wasn’t hurt by Emma’s cruel words, but her father’s shalessness rattled her so deeply her hands and feet trembled.
If blood ties could be severed, she’d take a knife and stab herself in the heart at this mont, returning her life to him!
A sudden, piercing shout silenced the entire room.
Michael Garcia flinched in shock, turning to his daughter, eyes wide and swallowing hard, before mustering enough courage to yell back, "You stupid girl! I’m your father! Speak to with a bit of respec—"
"Enough!" Alia interrupted before he could finish, her voice fiercer this ti. Emotional intensity caused her strikingly beautiful eyes to protrude slightly, her pupils burning with crimson.
Michael Garcia watched his daughter take deliberate steps toward him, instinctively retreating, stamring, "What are you... What are you doing? Could it be that you want to hit ?"
"Alia!" Christopher Hart called out urgently but, seated in his wheelchair, couldn’t stop her. Instead, he gestured to the nearby bodyguards.
The bodyguards caught on quickly and stepped closer toward them.
Michael Garcia grew even more nervous. "You... you... What are you all doing...? It’s broad daylight—"
"Michael Garcia, don’t think that just because I’m a woman, I am easily bullied! You’ve never fulfilled a father’s responsibility—not when Fiona and her daughter abused and mistreated , not when I was struggling in despair. You didn’t care about in the slightest, even blaming for the sha of divorce and throwing out when I was of no use to you. If I died now, you wouldn’t shed a single tear, would you? Yet now that my life is better, you shalessly show up, claiming as your daughter, trying to squeeze out whatever’s left of value from ?"
"Comparing you to animals is an insult to animals! Even a tiger wouldn’t harm its own cub, but what have you done? Don’t think I’ll only tolerate your exploitation—if you push too far, I’d sooner see us perish together!"
When Alia finished, her exquisitely beautiful face resembled that of a witch in a martial arts movie who had gone rogue, her entire deanor radiating a commanding, chilling aura that truly stunned Michael Garcia.
But he quickly regained his composure, laughing uncomfortably as he said, "Who are you trying to scare? Perish together? You’re throwing away your life? You’ve got three kids! Aren’t you going to care for them?"
"Ha—" Alia chuckled coldly, her tone deliberate and mocking. "Do you not know... if soone with a ntal illness commits murder during a psychotic episode, they’re free from criminal liability?"
ntal illness?
Her words caused everyone present to visibly react, their expressions shifting.
Except Christopher Hart, who lowered his gaze slightly, hiding a faint, almost imperceptible smile at the corners of his lips.
It seed this woman had truly been pushed over the edge—to the point of coming up with such a sche.
"You have a ntal illness?" Michael Garcia was both surprised and skeptical, nervously scanning her from head to toe. "You’re lying!"
She gave a bitter laugh, her tone depleted and lancholy. "After everything I’ve been through... surviving without taking my own life is already an achievent. Having a ntal illness? What’s the big deal?"
"..." Michael Garcia suddenly didn’t dare speak.
She lifted her gaze, a nacing smile adorning her face. "And besides, everything can be orchestrated... Given my current capabilities, getting diagnosed with a ntal illness wouldn’t be difficult, wouldn’t you say?"
"You, you—" Michael Garcia finally understood her intent.
"Stay out of my way, and I’ll pretend you don’t exist as my father. We’ll go our separate paths. Once you die, I’ll arrange your funeral—it’ll be my final debt repaid for the gift of life you gave . But if you dare provoke , don’t bla for being ruthless and heartless—don’t believe ? Try it."
Alia’s words ended, leaving both the inside and outside of the grand villa in absolute silence.
Emma Carter and her family watched the confrontation between father and daughter, their expressions complex and unsure of what to say.
Christopher Hart’s tense expression eased slightly as he looked at the frosty woman’s profile. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—she had indeed changed.
She had grown strong, assertive, capable of protecting herself.
In the heavy silence, hurried footsteps approached—
"Dad! Let’s go ho now. Stop embarrassing yourself here and making things difficult for Big Sis!"
Reviews
All reviews (0)