The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 255

The hotel hosted conferences as well as weddings.

Clara was followed by several business people attending a meeting. The heels she wore were a bit thin, and when a man dragging a suitcase brushed past her, she nearly lost her balance.

Noah reached out to block the man, his hand sliding down naturally to catch hers and pull her further inside.

"Careful."

Clara felt the hotel was simply too crowded today, so she stood obediently by his side.

Noah held her hand while balancing Felix in his other arm. His brow furrowed slightly as he angled his body to shield both of them in the corner.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked.

Clara looked down at their joined hands.

Back in Heron Bay, Noah wouldn't do this. At most, he would offer a polite guide or support her elbow.

But he must have been genuinely worried she would fall, and with the elevator packed, she didn't pull away.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. The heels are just a bit unstable."

The elevator doors closed.

The cigarette butt in Owen's hand burned his fingers before he reacted.

"Shit."

He cursed under his breath, throwing the butt on the ground and crushing it.

The woman beside him didn't understand what was happening. She leaned in coquettishly to blow on his hand. "Mr. Price, who were you looking at? An ex-girlfriend?"

Ex-girlfriend?

That was the rotting flesh carved out of someone's heart that could never be healed.

Owen sneered and shoved her away. "I have something to do. Call a cab and get lost."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and marched toward the parking lot.

Sitting in his car, he opened the photo he had just managed to snap. It was only a partial profile. Although her hairstyle had changed and her aura was different, he would never mistake her.

But who was the man in the elevator? And holding a child?

The delicate little sister with the timid eyes seemed to have died in the past. Today, she wore bright colors and heavier makeup, looking more like an artificial flower desperate to prove its vitality.

Owen stared at her for a few seconds, letting out a laugh that was hard to decipher.

He walked over, sat next to Margot, grabbed her chin, and scrutinized her face from side to side.

"Can't I call you out if there's nothing wrong? Getting arrogant now?"

Margot turned her head to break his grip. "Keep your hands to yourself."

Owen snatched the book from her hand and tossed it behind him. He leaned forward, trapping Margot in the corner of the sofa, his eyes full of mockery.

"The way you dress now... you're really getting into character. Still chasing that vibe, huh?"

Margot's face darkened. "How I dress is my business. If you don't have anything important to say, I'm leaving."

"What's the rush?" Owen released her, propped his legs up on the coffee table, and lit a cigarette. "You just got here. Has Rhys paid any attention to you lately?"

The question stabbed right at Margot's sore spot.

Rhys no longer believed her tears. He no longer fell for her coquettishness or threats. To avoid her, he had transferred to the most dangerous tactical unit and hadn't set foot in the Johnson family home since.