The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 108

But it was fake confidence.

All it took was a whisper of trouble from Margot, and he would abandon Clara in the deep sea without hesitation.

Clara turned off her phone, unwilling to look at it anymore.

After Simon came back, the two of them started cleaning the apartment.

"Hey, the water heater seems busted. It won't turn on," Simon poked his head out of the bathroom, looking annoyed. "I called a repair guy, but he probably won't be here until tonight. You want to go back to my place for now?"

"It's fine," Clara said, wiping down the table. "Cold water works."

She hadn't done housework in a long time. Back at Riverside Court, they had a professional housekeeper, and given Rhys's mild OCD and his status as a total germaphobe, the house was always spotless. Her only job had been arranging flowers in the vases and waiting for him to come home from work.

Now, the cold water bit at her skin, and the rag felt heavy in her hand. Clara scrubbed the table hard, back and forth.

Labor stopped the thinking. She didn't want to imagine Rhys's expression right now. Anger? Shock? Or that same arrogant certainty, thinking she was just throwing a tantrum in a different zip code?

***

Brighton City Airport.

Rhys strode out of the arrival gate, his face dark as a thunderhead. Passersby instinctively gave him a wide berth, frightened by the low pressure radiating from him. His phone felt hot in his grip.

He had gone above and beyond these past few days, or so he thought. And yet, she’d ditched the ring and vanished.

Back at Riverside Court, the house was exactly as they had left it. Clara clearly hadn't been back.

"Enough is enough," he cursed under his breath, slamming the door as he left again.

The entrance to the older residential complex where her parents lived was still adorned with festive decorations from the holidays. Rhys parked downstairs.

Before getting out, he straightened his collar and retrieved a box of high-end wine and expensive health supplements from the trunk—gifts hastily bought at Sunbay International Airport. No matter how bad the fight was, proper etiquette with his in-laws could not be discarded.

He suppressed the irritation and gloom between his brows, replacing them with a gentle, humble demeanor. This wasn't difficult for him.

He rang the doorbell.

"What?"

"She wants someone who knows when she's cold or hot, someone who cares. Did you give her that?"

Mr. Bridges sighed. "We spoiled Clara growing up, so yes, she's a bit willful. But her heart is honest. If someone treats her well, she treats them ten times better. We parents pretended not to see whether she was happy these past five years, but we can't pretend anymore."

"Clara came back, and then she left. As for where she went, she didn't say, and I didn't ask."

Looking at the man in front of him—impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place—Mr. Bridges felt a surge of sorrow for his daughter. Even at this moment, there wasn't a trace of panic on Rhys's face at the prospect of losing his wife.

Mr. Bridges waved his hand, dismissing him. "Go back. She said she wants a divorce. Since you won't sign the papers, let the lawyers handle it. In the future... don't come here."

"Dad—"

Rhys instinctively reached out to grab the iron bars.

The inner door slammed shut. Rhys stood in the stairwell as the sensor light flicked off, plunging him into darkness.