The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 230

In his dream, Clara was twenty-one again.

Dressed in a light, flowing gown and clutching a pair of hot dogs, she skipped toward him with a radiant smile before reaching out to playfully tap his forehead.

"Rhys, why are you late again?"

The wind lifted her hair, the ends brushing past his nose, carrying a pleasant floral scent.

"I didn't mean to this time," Rhys smiled. "Clara, I missed you."

Clara tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "Rhys, why do you look like that? You look terrible."

She pointed to his chest.

Rhys looked down; blood was gushing from it.

He awkwardly tried to cover the wound, frowning as he wondered why he had come to see her looking like this—he was going to scare her again.

He wanted to say sorry, wanted to say "I love you", wanted to tell her that he wouldn't be late anymore. But he opened his mouth and no sound came out.

Clara suddenly laughed, a smile so bright it made him want to cry. She put her hands behind her back and stepped away, her figure becoming transparent in the sunlight.

"Never mind, I forgive you this time."

"You have to live, hero," she waved at him, her voice growing distant. "Go save more people. Go redeem your sins. Don't forget, you still have to be a good cop like your father."

"Clara!"

Rhys finally found his voice, sprinting desperately to catch her. But no matter how fast he ran, the girl remained just one step away. Finally, she turned and ran into the light, vanishing completely. He reached out to grab her but grasped only air.

Rhys's fingers curled slightly. A single tear rolled from the corner of his tightly closed eye, mixing with the blood.

Clara, completely drained of strength, struggled to open her eyes and looked at the red, wrinkled little thing being held in front of her.

So ugly. Like a tiny, shriveled prune. This was Felix?

Noah looked at the newborn for a moment, then lowered his head to wipe the sweat from Clara's brow. "Clara, the moon has risen."

The corners of Clara's mouth twitched, wanting to smile, but tears flowed first. The nurse wrapped the baby and wheeled Clara back to the ward.

Cleaned up, Felix was placed in the bassinet beside her, sleeping soundly with his eyes closed, his little mouth moving occasionally. It was impossible to tell who he looked like.

A sudden, sharp constriction tightened around Clara's chest. It was a pain so visceral she found herself gasping for air, instinctively looking toward the window. Outside was pitch black; apart from the bright moon, nothing could be seen.

"What's wrong? Does it still hurt?" her mother asked.

Clara pressed her hand to her chest. The palpitations came and went quickly, leaving behind only a hollow sense of confusion. She shook her head. "I'm fine. Maybe... just too tired."