"Yes, I’m sorry..." After vomiting, Christopher seed to have sobered up a bit.
Seeing the woman petrified, her face more pained than if she were constipated, he even knew to get up and pull so tissues for her, handing them over.
But Alia stared at him, then looked down at herself, wanting to cry but unable to shed tears...
"Here, wipe it off... go to the bathroom, clean yourself up..." As she did not take them, he had no choice but to get up from the bed, stagger, and squat down to try and wipe her dress himself.
"Don’t touch !"
Alia was truly about to explode!
She shouldn’t have had a lapse in judgnt and agreed to co over to help him with the child. What was she thinking at the ti?
Now, it was just... she felt like killing soone!
While pushing the man’s hand away, she scrambled to her feet and hurried into the bathroom.
The man, squatting in the original spot, saw her dash into the bathroom like she knew it well, slightly composed himself, his gaze dark and bottomless.
In the bathroom, Alia stood in front of the vanity cleaning her dress.
She had worn a light blue chiffon dress today, and now that it was wet, the fabric clung to her body, becoming particularly see-through.
Even more infuriating was that the material was so thin, the disgusting vomit stuck to her, and just cleaning the surface was pointless.
—She needed a proper bath!
Frustrated, Alia kept cleaning while enduring the awful sll, nearly vomiting a few tis herself.
Suddenly, the bathroom door was slamd open.
Without even looking, she yelled, "Get out! I don’t want to see you!"
But President Hart staggered forward, holding a dress in his hand, "This is my... ex-wife’s, wash it and wear it for now."
Alia turned and was montarily stunned.
Four years after the divorce, and four years since her death, he still kept his ex-wife’s clothes in his wardrobe?
"Don’t worry, it’s new... not ominous—"
Alia didn’t want to, but she was in such a ssy state...
The dress was wet up to the waistline, even her underwear could be seen.
She reached out to take the clothes, her face cold, "You go out!"
The man didn’t move, and when her hand reached out to take the dress, he didn’t let go, not sure what he was thinking.
"???" Alia was puzzled, "You—"
Before she could finish her sentence, he suddenly let go.
Alia looked at him and felt sothing was off about him.
Why did his gaze seem to an sothing else, as if he had sobered up from just one round of vomiting?
The man staggered out.
Alia held the clothes, hesitating for a while.
Though she knew it was very inappropriate, she couldn’t stand the disgusting sll on her any longer. She stepped forward, locked the bathroom door, and quickly took a shower and changed clothes.
The dress was a floral, cinched waist style, black, sleeveless, with draping fabric.
She held it up and looked it over, without any recollection of it.
During the years she was Young Madam Hart, even though their marriage was not good, Christopher hadn’t skimped on material things for her.
Maybe for the sake of appearances, her clothes and shoes were delivered each season by a special person.
And when they divorced, she didn’t take the things from here, so it was normal for there to be unworn clothes left behind.
Standing in front of the mirror, she frowned.
The high-end dress was naturally impeccable, but... was the neckline too low?
A slight bend forward and she was exposed.
She adjusted the neckline several tis, finally feeling sowhat secure, then roughly scrubbed her changed clothes, wrung them out, and planned to take them with her.
"Knock, knock, knock—"
The bathroom door sounded.
She hastened her actions, "Almost done!"
"Are you done? I need to use the bathroom... Hurry up—"
His voice sounded as if he was about to throw up. In a fluster, Alia glanced at the door and reminded him, "Your house has more than one bathroom, why can’t you use another one?"
Yet the man ignored her and continued pounding on the door, "Bang bang bang."
Hearing the noise, Alia’s heart jumped. She quickly shook the water off her hands and went to open the door.
The door slamd against the wall with a "bang," and the man burst in. Instead of heading for the toilet, he grabbed her shoulders and pinned her against the door.
Alia was terrified, her soul almost leaving her, "What are you doing!"
The man examined her, a strange smile on his face, "You have the sa figure as my ex-wife."
The woman sneered coldly, "Well, congratulations on having a perfect figure in your ex-wife."
"Heh," the man laughed, his tone suddenly filled with loss, "I lost her, what’s there to congratulate."
Alia looked at him, puzzled.
It sounded like... he regretted the divorce?
But wasn’t it Lily Garcia whom he loved?
Shouldn’t he be happy after the divorce?
Alia was montarily distracted, unprepared for the man suddenly reaching out and pulling at her dress neckline—
"What are you doing!" She jumped up in fright, quickly pressing her hands on her shoulders.
But it was too late.
Christopher Hart had pulled down the neckline, revealing half of her right shoulder. If she hadn’t reacted quickly, her chest might have been exposed.
"Christopher Hart! Rember your identity! The President of Seal-Cloud Corporation, stripping a woman’s clothes, have you no sha?"
Her face was flushed with anger, her eyes fiery. She defensively held onto her sagging neckline with one hand.
But the man was unmoved.
He stared intently at the woman’s pale, glowing chest, his eyes hollow and fixed.
"It’s not there... How could it not be?"
Pointing at her chest, he suddenly looked up, "Where’s the mole here? I rember... there was a mole here."
Alia felt her heart almost leap out of her throat.
At this mont, she suddenly realized—the man’s drunkenness was a feign!
True, he had drunk a lot, but he wasn’t so intoxicated as to lose his senses.
He was pretending to be drunk in order to find an excuse to check for a mole on her chest to verify if she was Alia Garcia!
Heart pounding, the woman looked back into his incredulous eyes and sneered slowly yet firmly, pulling the neckline out from between his fingers.
"Mr. Hart, what are you talking about?"
Christopher Hart had tossed and turned all night, unconvinced by the DNA results, hence wanted to verify it personally.
Yet now, the truth told him again—this woman really wasn’t Alia Garcia. He had made a mistake, thought too much...
How could he accept this?
His mind withdrawing, the power of alcohol ca surging back. He staggered, placing a hand on the wall and shaking his head.
What exactly went wrong...
Alia observed all his reactions, her ears buzzing with the sound of her heartbeat. Ironically.
After giving birth years ago, she developed several flat warts on her arms and neck, for which she underwent laser treatnt.
And along with it, she had also removed the mole on her chest.
Who could have imagined, this unintentional act years later would actually "save" her life.
Seeing he remained silent, Alia provoked him again, "Mr. Hart, I don’t know what you’ve been through today, but under these circumstances, you better get so sleep."
"It’s getting late, I should leave. From now on, we go our separate ways, I wish you find happiness in life soon."
Having said that, she was really prepared to leave.
But Christopher Hart suddenly looked up, a mont of nace flashing in his eyes, "Did I say you could leave?"
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