He may be thin, but his height and fra are imposing. After being pressed under him for so long, Alia Garcia started to feel stiff and uncomfortable.
Even so, she stayed completely still, wanting him to sleep a little longer.
But fate wouldn’t grant her wish.
The sudden ring of a phone shattered the peaceful tranquility.
The man leaning against her jolted awake with a start.
Taking out his phone and glancing at the screen, he murmured softly, "A call from the hospital."
After answering it, whatever was said on the other end froze his expression entirely. The hand holding the phone visibly tightened, his knuckles faintly whitening.
Alia Garcia sat up and lifted the arm that had been pinned under him, gently stretching it.
Seeing his expression, an ominous feeling swept through her heart.
Could it be... Emma Carter’s follow-up results are out?
"Alright, thank you, doctor. I’ll head to the hospital later; we can discuss everything in detail then." His voice cold and hoarse, Christopher Hart responded briefly, hung up the phone, and let his hand fall.
Alia Garcia froze her movents, her face serious and cautious, looking at him as she asked, "What’s wrong? Is the follow-up result bad?"
"Yeah..." Christopher Hart nodded uneasily and lifted his gaze to et hers, his deep eyes bloodshot and brimming with pain that he had painstakingly suppressed. "The doctor said it’s breast cancer. As for the specific type... we’ll need to perform surgery and do a pathological analysis to confirm."
It was known that breast cancer has four types. Two of them can achieve better prognoses with current dical advancents, while the other two are relatively severe and remain significant challenges for modern dicine.
Looking at his exhausted and heavy expression, the words "breast cancer" echoed in Alia Garcia’s ears, leaving her montarily unsure how to respond.
Emma Carter might be truly hateful, but it seed far too cruel for Heaven to punish her in this manner.
First losing her daughter, and now herself being diagnosed with cancer...
What’s more, this outco wasn’t just a punishnt for Emma Carter; it was a devastating blow to Christopher Hart.
After all, she was his biological mother, the one who raised him.
Even if their relationship had broken due to differing views on marriage, when such devastating news struck, no child could remain unaffected or unshaken.
"Alia... get so rest. I’m heading to the hospital." Christopher Hart composed himself for a mont. His deanor steadied as he quietly instructed.
Alia Garcia cald down as well, refocusing her gaze on him. "Take care of your health too."
"I will." The man turned to leave but suddenly rembered sothing. He turned back and said, "By the way, tomorrow, you should take the kids and move to Imperial Garden. During this period, I might stay at the old manor. I’ll co visit you when I can."
Alia Garcia furrowed her brows, considering Emma Carter’s situation. She said, "I think it’s better if we don’t move to Imperial Garden for now. Do you have other properties? I’ll take the kids and stay there temporarily."
"Why?" Christopher Hart was puzzled.
What’s the difference between staying at Imperial Garden and any other property?
Alia Garcia thought he misunderstood and gently grabbed his hand, letting out a sigh as she explained, "With your mother’s current situation, you shouldn’t provoke her. If I move into Imperial Garden at such a sensitive ti and she finds out, she’ll undoubtedly fly into a rage again, which wouldn’t be good for her recovery."
She rembered her own mother, who had also passed away due to breast cancer. After growing up, she’d researched extensively. Aside from genetic factors and gene mutations, the majority of cases were due to prolonged depression, emotional distress, and severe hormonal imbalances.
Though Emma Carter was hateful and, in many ways, deserved what was happening to her now—it sowhat felt like karma—facing illness should always be t with the bare minimum of kindness.
Alia Garcia decided to let go of the grudges, willing to step back and ensure Emma Carter could focus on her treatnt.
Christopher Hart hadn’t expected her to consider this level of detail. He gazed at her deeply for a mont before instinctively pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Alia... I’m sorry, thank you..."
I’m sorry for all the grievances you’ve endured because of .
Thank you for still having such generosity of spirit, thinking about my mother after everything she’s done to hurt you.
In this instant, Christopher Hart’s heart was completely won over by her.
In this lifeti, unless death separated them, he could never forsake this kind and lovely woman nor do anything that would hurt her again.
Alia Garcia understood the aning behind his words. She held back the tears threatening to fall and lightly patted his back, urging him on, "Alright, hurry to the hospital."
"Okay, you rest early too."
"Alright..."
The two let go of each other. Christopher Hart raised his hand and cradled her face, sharing a small smile before turning to leave.
Alone on the chaise lounge, Alia Garcia sat for a long ti. Thinking about all these ssy, chaotic events, she could only sigh at the unpredictability of life. In the end, the living should cherish themselves, their health, and each day they have.
————
Emma Carter’s cancer diagnosis made Alia Garcia completely forget her grudges against the Hart Family.
She decided to attend Wendy Hart’s morial service.
Snow Fitch, upon hearing this, worried she might face trouble and offered to go with her.
On the way there, Alia Garcia ntioned Emma Carter’s cancer diagnosis.
Snow Fitch, sitting in the passenger seat scrolling through her phone, was stunned upon hearing this and turned to Alia Garcia. "What did you say? Who has breast cancer?"
"My ex-mother-in-law."
"Her?" Snow Fitch was surprised again, pausing montarily, her expression slightly peculiar. "Although it’s immoral to say this, I truly feel like... isn’t this karma? Who told her to be so sharp-tongued and unreasonable? Even Heaven couldn’t stand—"
"Snow." Alia Garcia interrupted her. "She’s already like that; let’s not say anymore."
Snow Fitch glanced at her. "I understand. No matter how awful she is, she’s still Christopher’s biological mother. You’re stuck in a difficult position now."
"It’s not difficult. I don’t like her, but I wouldn’t wish her to die an unpleasant death either. Hopefully, she’s lucky and doesn’t end up with the most dangerous type, like my mother."
"Oh!" Snow Fitch suddenly recalled. "Your mother passed away from breast cancer back then too."
"Yeah... I was just a kid at the ti, didn’t understand anything. Looking back now, she must’ve been in unimaginable pain..." Unfortunately, she had been too young to comfort her mother.
Reflecting on it now, even during her mother’s most painful, disheveled monts, she’d still maintained a gentle, graceful deanor in front of her. Such a wonderful mother, gone too early.
Snow Fitch didn’t know Alia Garcia was reminiscing about this and sighed, "Won with breast cancer have it the worst. Many undergo full mastectomies but still can’t escape death, losing even their femininity before reporting to King Rhys. Emma Carter may be detestable, but this karma is indeed extre. Losing her daughter and now battling cancer... What a tragedy!"
Snow Fitch, though sharp-tongued, was soft-hearted.
From a best friend’s perspective, she naturally hoped Emma Carter wouldn’t have a happy ending.
But looking at soone faced with cancer and the loss of their daughter—if this was Heaven’s punishnt, it surely was more than enough—she sighed and felt that all grudges and conflicts should end here.
At the funeral ho, the two moved forward with the crowd of mourners.
The Hart Family had extensive connections and relationships. The spacious morial hall was packed with people.
Alia Garcia only had Christopher Hart on her mind and paid no attention to others, but Snow Fitch observed everything around them, suddenly nudging her arm. "Hey... aren’t those elders over there Christopher’s adversaries?"
Following her best friend’s direction, she looked over, quickly identifying them. She nodded and said, "Yes..."
That group stood on one side of the hall, and Christopher Hart’s paternal uncle, his hair already streaked with gray, was accompanied by two middle-aged, slightly overweight sons, along with four children—three boys and one girl.
Seeing this, Alia Garcia understood why that uncle, despite his age, remained so aggressive in vying for power.
It must be to secure a future for his sons and grandchildren.
Indeed, Snow Fitch remarked, "With a thriving family like theirs, it seems he’s just trying to win more for his descendants."
"Probably..."
On the other side of the hall, a few female mbers of the Hart Family huddled together, whispering among themselves in low voices.
Alia Garcia wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping but happened to end up near them as she followed the flow of mourners.
"Eh? Emma Carter didn’t co today? It’s her own daughter’s morial service..."
"You don’t know? Emma Carter is sick!"
"Oh, heart disease or headaches aren’t real illnesses anyway..."
"No, it’s breast cancer! She probably doesn’t have much ti left."
"What? I didn’t hear about that..."
"Tsk... who’d have thought? She lived a glamorous life, and now, in her old age, it’s so miserable. Her daughter is dead, and she herself is dying..."
"Heh! After all those years of luxury, she’s had her fill."
"In my opinion, it’s the end of their family’s luck! No way Christopher can salvage the company either!"
Alia Garcia and Snow Fitch were both shocked by these words.
After all, they were mbers of the Hart Family. Even if they bickered privately, shouldn’t there at least be so decorum about major events?
Grinning as they gloated over another family mber’s misfortune like this?
Alia Garcia had been back for quite so ti but hadn’t formally acknowledged her status. However, she couldn’t hold back now.
She feigned a casual cough, and sure enough, the few female relatives imdiately went silent.
But soon after, one of them spotted her sharply.
"Alia, is it really you...? If it weren’t broad daylight, I’d think I’d seen a ghost."
"Can you believe it? Soone dead for years suddenly resurrected—it’s creepy."
"Ah... if only Wendy were so lucky... That poor girl."
"Alia... I heard Wendy’s death had sothing to do with you."
Alia Garcia was surrounded by their curious gazes, every sentence mocking, sarcastic, or hidden with barbs.
Skirting around her identity, she maintained a serious expression, calm and composed. Only after all of them had finished speaking did she slowly respond, "This is a funeral ho. Seeing ghosts shouldn’t be a surprise. So, let kindly remind you, don’t do any immoral deeds, don’t say anything cruel—otherwise, you might need to seal your doors shut at night."
If you didn’t do anything bad, you wouldn’t be scared of ghosts at night. Her warning flipped the aning on its head to strike at them.
The group of female relatives imdiately turned pale, staring at her speechlessly.
Once they moved away, Snow Fitch quietly gave her a thumbs-up. "Your cobacks have truly reached mastery now."
Alia Garcia didn’t respond, her expression slightly stunned, because she had seen Christopher Hart seated not far away in the family area. He was in a wheelchair, alongside George Hart.
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