The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 377

The cigarette in Simon's hand burned down to his fingers. He winced, then stubbed it out viciously in the ashtray.

He got up and went to the study. Alex was buried in work. Simon walked in and gave Alex's chair a kick.

"There's a problem."

Alex looked up, confused. "What's wrong? When is Clara coming back? She hasn't streamed in days, the fan groups are going crazy. If she doesn't go live soon, she'll lose all her followers."

Simon stared out the window.

Heron Bay's December was still bright and sunny, the bougainvillea in the yard blooming with fiery abandon. But in Brighton City, it was snowing.

"She's not coming back."

"What?"

Simon rubbed his face, his voice raw. "Rhys has her trapped."

Alex was even more confused.

"Trapped? You mean like, against her will? That’s illegal, isn't it? Even a special agent can't do that. Should we call the police?"

"Not like that," Simon said, giving him a look of disdain. "Rhys is dying."

Alex’s expression shifted from confusion to shock, finally settling into something unreadably complex.

On the night of the typhoon, Rhys's injuries had been plain for all to see. It didn't take much to guess the reason.

"I have to go there. You keep an eye on things here at home and at the company," Simon said.

Alex agreed. "What do we tell her parents? And what about Felix?"

"The truth."

"No," Alex said, grabbing his arm. "Why would you tell a four-year-old something like that? You'll just worry everyone. We can just make up an excuse later, say Mr. Huntington is busy with work and can't come back."

"No. We can't hide this, and we shouldn't. Felix is a sensitive kid. It's better to tell him the truth than let his imagination run wild."

"But…"

"No buts." Simon shook off his hand. "Clara's over there in Brighton City, all alone. If Rhys actually dies in front of her, she'll be trapped in that nightmare for the rest of her life."

He was almost never this serious at home. The smile on Clara's dad's face slowly faded, a stone dropping in his stomach.

"Why the long face? Did something happen to Clara?"

Clara's mom shot up from her chair, a blanket sliding to the ground. "Simon, say something. Don't scare me. Is she in some kind of danger? A car accident? A robbery?"

"She's not in danger."

Simon walked over, picked up the blanket, dusted it off, and folded it neatly on the chair.

"Clara's fine. She's okay. It's just… she might not be coming back for a while."

"Why?"

Simon looked at the graying hair at their temples, steeled himself, and decided against beating around the bush. He delivered the stark, painful truth.

"Clara said Rhys is in the hospital. His condition isn't good. All those years as a special agent, his body is covered in injuries, and his lungs are failing. The doctors say… they don't know how long he has left."

Clara's dad asked again, "What does that mean? 'Don't know how long' could be anything."