Jacob Garcia’s words were undoubtedly a heavy blow, falling in rapid succession, each punch deadly.
What exactly did Mom do wrong? Why did she have to endure such suffering?
And back then, in such a helpless, desperate situation, she thought reaching out to the one she loved would save her, but what ca instead was the dreadful news of "sacrifice."
Alia Garcia’s heart shattered.
How she wished she could travel through ti, go back to that era and hug her poor, tragic mother.
Christopher Hart saw her emotionally falling apart, without a word, turned his wheelchair, pulling her into his arms tightly.
"Alia... Alia, if you want to cry, just cry. You’ll feel better after crying..." he whispered softly, stroking Alia’s head, softly comforting her.
But Alia Garcia couldn’t cry in this place.
She had always hated Michael Garcia, hated his unfairness, his favoritism, his neglect of her—and now, her feelings towards Michael Garcia were not only hatred.
If it weren’t for the children, she might not be able to control her murderous desire, to kill this scumbag who is worse than an animal, to avenge her mother’s bitter life!
She clenched her teeth tightly, still unable to restrain the shivering and anger rising from the depths of her soul, so she can only desperately control herself in the man’s arms.
"Christopher, let’s go... I don’t want to see him..." She doesn’t want to see such a disgusting, filthy wretch, doesn’t want to breathe the sa air as him.
"Alright, let’s go ho."
Christopher Hart nodded, pulled her back closer into his embrace, holding her tightly.
Alia Garcia understood his intention, wanted to get up but was pressed back by him: "Don’t move, I’m fine..."
At this ti, even if Christopher Hart had lost the use of his legs, he would hold her tightly, providing warmth and comfort.
And indeed, Alia Garcia’s mind was so chaotic she couldn’t think, her mind blank, when he held her again, she stopped struggling.
She was like a battered, broken rag doll, losing all sense and reaction, letting Christopher Hart take her away from the conference room.
How she got ho, Alia Garcia had no impression.
Only when the children’s cheering voices reached her ears did she realize she was back ho.
"Shh... Mom isn’t feeling well, don’t disturb her, go play by yourselves." Christopher Hart looked at the children excitedly rushing forward, quickly signaled them to be quiet.
The three little ones imdiately quieted down.
"Is Mom sick?"
"Is Mom in a bad mood?"
"Dad, did you fight with Mom again?"
Christopher Hart felt complicated, but he still gathered himself to deal with the children, gently explaining, "Dad and Mom didn’t fight, Mom’s just a bit unwell, she’ll be better after a nap, go play for now."
"Oh."
The children turned away.
Christopher Hart took Alia Garcia back to the room, beside the bed, "Do you want to sleep for a while?"
Alia Garcia nodded, got up from his arms, puppet-like, and lay on the bed.
Christopher Hart reached for the quilt, covering her.
Behind him, Noah unknowingly ca in, holding a cup of water: "Dad, this is warm water for Mom."
"Hmm, very good, put it down, Mom will drink it later."
Noah put the cup down, looked at his mom lying on the pillow with blank eyes, his little face full of worry: "Dad, is Mom okay?"
"It’s okay, Dad is with her."
"Alright, you can call if you need anything."
"Sure."
Noah walked away, Christopher Hart moved his wheelchair closer to the bed, holding her hand, another hand gently brushing her face, softly soothing her, sighed softly.
"I know you feel upset, feeling sorry for your mom, hurting, now you’re ho, cry if you want, but after crying, get back on your feet soon. I think that Auntie from heaven wouldn’t want to see you so sad." He gently advised, his large hand always resting on her face, softly caressing.
Alia Garcia’s gaze was empty, vaguely nodded.
After a while of silence, she looked up at the man: "You go keep the kids company; I want to sleep for a while..."
Christopher Hart knew she didn’t want to sleep, she just wanted to be alone.
Understanding her mood, the man didn’t force her, "Okay, you’ve been really tired lately, have so rest. Whenever, I and the kids will always be by your side."
"Alright..."
Though Christopher Hart felt uneasy, he still respected her wishes, leaned in, gently kissed her face, turned to leave.
Closing the bedroom door, the warmth and fondness on his face disappeared.
The children went to play by themselves; he picked up his phone, the wheelchair slowly approaching the balcony, and made a call.
"Cut off Michael Garcia’s hospital treatnt fees over there, hmm... don’t care, if he can’t afford the treatnt, let him be discharged, it’s none of our business, keep soone watching him secretly, don’t let him cause trouble again."
After hanging up, Christopher Hart gritted his teeth slightly, thinking of Michael Garcia’s shaless face, wishing to send him directly to et King Rhys!
Such worthless people, alive just waste resources.
Anyone daring to hurt Alia, he won’t let them off, no matter who.
But thinking of Thomas Smith, he felt a headache.
With his current abilities, he’s simply no match for Thomas Smith, and purely from the influence Mandrake Technology has nationally and internationally, plus its vast prestige on the democratic brand, he doesn’t want to target Mandrake Group.
So, the only thing he can do is ensure Alia no longer ets that person.
No matter how innocent he was back then, the hurt he caused Alia and her mother is irreparable.
Unless Alia herself is willing to accept him; otherwise, no one can force her or guilt trip her.
Having sorted through all these thoughts, he began to plan his actions.
The courtyard house, he must buy it back.
Fortunately, after the company’s confrontation with Lingfeng was concluded, Lingfeng’s continuous defeat beca inevitable; now many are in jail, bankrupt, no longer holding any sway.
Leveraging the cooperation with Mandrake, the company’s stock prices have surged strongly these past days.
Christopher Hart contemplated waiting for Monday’s opening market, starting to sell off stock plans, with sufficient cash at hand first, then buying back the courtyard house.
The phone rang, pulling him from his gloomy mood.
Looking down, it was a call from ho.
"Hello."
"Christopher, you’re discharged today, right?" Over the phone was Emma Carter, her tone and manner much more amicable and kind than before.
"Hmm." Christopher Hart roughly guessed what his mother was going to say, his brow beginning to furrow.
Sure enough, Emma Carter asked, "When are you coming back for dinner? Didn’t your dad talk to you a few days ago? Wait until you’re discharged, bring that woman back once... but I see these days, stuff online is all over the place—"
At this, Emma Carter hesitated, cautiously asking, "Christopher... Your dad and I are curious, are the things online true? Your dad returned from a business trip in S City and ntioned it, I found it odd... You said she spent a few years abroad, how co she has such powerful connections after returning ho? If indeed, as rumors suggest, she has so ambiguous relationship with that man..."
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