He gently cradled his daughter, his large palm stroking her small face as he took a close look.
The little girl had fair and delicate skin, with a conspicuous red mark on her right cheek.
Seeing this, a look of tenderness overflowed in his eyes.
If anyone else had raised a hand to her, he would have certainly returned the blow tenfold, a hundredfold.
But today the one who had abused his daughter was her own grandmother, and besides anger and rage, he felt helpless.
Alia watched him, her heart also filled with mixed emotions.
At this point, she couldn’t tell for sure whether her decision all those years ago had been right or wrong.
At the ti, she only thought about her daughter’s survival, certain that leaving her with him was the best option, never imagining that the Hart family’s aversion and rejection of her would extend to her daughter.
Listening to her little girl’s grievances just now was like her heart being sliced with a knife.
They say affection skips generations, but Emma Carter actually subjected such an adorable granddaughter to verbal abuse!
Just the thought of that scene was enough to make her feel like she was suffocating.
"Daddy, I’m okay now." Hope was a very sensitive child. Though she was in her daddy’s arms, her big eyes were keenly observing her mommy’s reaction.
Seeing that her mommy was upset, she quickly grabbed her daddy’s hand and pushed it towards her mommy, energetically trying to diate between the two, "Hurry and comfort mommy, the an grandma hit her so badly!"
Both adults were caught off guard, and in the mont their eyes t, they were both surprised and embarrassed.
Alia instinctively wanted to withdraw her hand, but Christopher Hart reacted extrely fast, grabbing it first.
In front of their child, it wasn’t appropriate for her to forcefully pull away, so she could only send him a "let go" look with her eyes.
But Christopher Hart was quite good at feigning ignorance.
He pretended not to have seen her signal and even took the opportunity to grip her hand tighter.
"Hope, you rest for now, Daddy and Mommy have to talk for a bit," he said, turning back to instruct his daughter, while his other hand gently ruffled the top of her head.
"Okay!" The little girl obediently snuggled back under the covers and lay down, then waved her hands at her mommy with a "go, go" gesture, looking adorably cute.
Alia couldn’t help it, she was amused by her daughter’s antics.
Christopher watched her laugh, the coldness in his eyes ward and softened a touch.
"Let’s go, we need to talk outside," he said in a low voice.
Indeed, it was ti for a talk.
This ti, Alia didn’t refuse, and followed him as he turned and left the ward.
But as soon as they exited the ward, she pulled her hand free, displaying an air of unfamiliarity and distance.
Christopher glanced at his now empty hand, his lips twitching, but he said nothing.
The two of them went up to the rooftop terrace.
There was a shaded area, with a strong breeze and a cool atmosphere, suitable for conversation.
Christopher kept his gaze fixed on her intently, causing Alia to feel anxious and agitated.
In order to break the awkward and ambiguous silence, as soon as they stopped, Alia took a slight breath and broke the ice: "Thank you, for not revealing my identity in front of your mother just now."
Otherwise, it would have confird all the unflattering images Emma Carter painted of her—like being scheming and deceitful, among other things.
Furthermore, it would have implicated her daughter even more.
Christopher’s expression was serene, his gaze still fixed on her bright and delicate face.
They had been reunited for so days now, and previously due to uncertainty about her identity, his gaze always carried a asure of scrutiny and investigation, as if through a layer of fog, not seeing her clearly.
Now that he had finally confird her identity, gazing closely at her face, he felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity and closeness.
He had thought before that once the truth ca out, he would definitely be so angry that he would strangle her.
But what he truly wanted to do now was to hug her tightly.
Of course, she would never allow it.
So he suppressed that thought and decided to have a good talk with her first, to clear up everything that needed to be said.
Listening to her thanks, Christopher Hart’s gaze shifted away for a mont, his sexy lips curling into a smile, "I never thought you’d one day be scuffling with my mother—did you vent all the resentnt that’s been building up for years?"
Alia Garcia kept a cold face, "I don’t love holding grudges that much."
Although, Emma Carter had treated her really badly in the past, belittling and ridiculing her, never really regarding her as a daughter-in-law.
"Then you are truly magnanimous."
"Thank you."
His lips curled again, and his deanor lightened sowhat, "Let’s talk about what to do next."
"What to do next? We’ve been divorced for a long ti. What’s done is done, and I faked my death to deceive you with the hope of never dealing with you again, completely detached."
"Then why did you co back?"
Alia Garcia stared at him, correcting, "I didn’t actively co back; it was you and Lily Garcia who found my design order and insisted I return to the country to discuss the design draft with you in person."
Christopher Hart didn’t believe her gibberish, scoffed mockingly, "We didn’t know you, but you knew us, you could have refused."
"Yes, I admit I was negligent, thinking it’s a waste not to make easy money. Later when you asked to return to the country to discuss the design draft, I was going to refuse. But just then, Snow Fitch told that Hope was about to undergo major surgery, and I just couldn’t rest easy, so I took a chance—thinking I could earn the money and see my daughter, killing two birds with one stone."
"Ha, regretting it now?" he asked with mockery.
Alia Garcia spoke candidly, "In life, there’s no such thing as regret. Being able to see Hope, to hear her call ’mom’—even though she doesn’t know I’m her real mother, I’m content."
Thinking of her daughter’s sweetly adorable little face stirred a surprisingly warm sentint in her otherwise cool deanor, "I originally thought... I would never see her in this lifeti."
The topic suddenly turned lancholic, but hatred brewed within Christopher Hart.
"Back then, you really shouldn’t have chosen pride over happiness and suffered for it."
Alia Garcia knew what he was referring to. She lifted her face, her expression cold and resolute again, "If I could go back in ti, I would still make the sa choice."
"..." Christopher Hart suddenly found himself at a loss for words and clenched his jaw in frustration.
He changed his mind then; this damn woman, she deserved to be strangled!
"As a child you were so cute, how did you grow up to be... so detestable!" he spat bitterly, as if talking to himself.
Alia Garcia was stunned, her eyes locked onto him with surprise, clearly not expecting him to bring up their childhood.
After a pause, she quickly retorted, "Aren’t you the sa? You used to be so warm as a child, but as you grew up you beca more and more—"
His eyebrows knitted together, "More what?"
"More of a scumbag!" She wasn’t afraid to say it.
"I’m a scumbag?" Christopher Hart was extrely displeased, his tone rising involuntarily, "During three years of marriage, did I cheat or have an affair? I treated you well, no matter how busy or tired I was, I never neglected you—what, now you don’t rember?"
His righteous indignation poured out, but Alia Garcia detected an ambiguous teasing in his words.
Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes, watery, stared at him, suddenly lost for words.
If they had to talk about marital duties, then his performance... was indeed notable.
But to brazenly discuss such matters, did he have no sha?
"Ha, blushing, I see. Seems like you haven’t forgotten." Perceiving her embarrassnt, President Hart laughed and continued to tease.
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