The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 388

Rhys answered instinctively, "Wait for a mission notification. I also have a few rookies to train in the department. It's the end of the year, so there are a lot of evaluations. I'll probably be a bit busy…"

He trailed off mid-sentence, his voice fading to silence under Clara's increasingly heavy and cold gaze.

He understood what her look meant.

"I…" he tried to salvage the situation. "I'll try to get off work earlier. I won't ignore my phone like I used to. If you or Felix need anything, I'll be there right away. I promise."

"Don't bother," Clara cut him off. "Quit your job."

Rhys was stunned. "What?"

"Resign. Stop being a SWAT officer," Clara said, looking up and meeting his eyes directly. "Not just SWAT. No detective work, no narcotics, nothing on the front lines that requires you to be on scene. Just quit it all."

Rhys's brow furrowed, and he refused without a second thought. "No."

He had only two obsessions in his life.

One was Clara. The other was this uniform.

He had inherited his father's badge number. Those digits had been with him for over a decade, etched into his very bones.

It was the only thing that proved his worth in the thirty-plus years he had been alive.

"Clara, this time was an accident," Rhys tried to explain. "I'm not always this unlucky. Being on the SWAT team is mostly just extra training. We only get extreme missions a few times a year…"

But Clara didn't want to hear these excuses.

"Rhys, do you have any idea what condition you're in right now?"

He fell silent.

Seeing his hesitant look, Clara wasn't surprised. She asked again, "If it happens again, do you really think you'll make it out of the emergency room? Do you think luck will always be on your side?"

Rhys lowered his gaze, unable to look at her.

He used to be reckless because if he died, he died.

The Huntington family didn't need him. Aside from Mia mentioning him from time to time, no one really cared if he lived to see another day.

But it was different now.

Clara was back, and he had Felix.

She was by his side, and when he held the soft little boy in his arms and heard him call him "Daddy," his heart melted.

He had tasted the sweetness of life again.

And he despised the version of himself who had once felt a sense of relief at the thought of it all ending.

"I… I don't know what else I would do."

He had wanted to be a police officer since he was five.

At first, it was a child's adoration for his father, a hero's dream he lived out every day wearing that police cap.

Clara didn't deny it. "Yes."

"He's only four. He just got his father back, and he's so happy. The first thing he thinks about when he wakes up is coming to see you. You promised him you would listen, that you would live a good life and not let him forget you. Rhys, do you want to be a liar who breaks his promises again?"

Rhys felt dejected and powerless.

He had drifted aimlessly through the first half of his life. As a child, he was a burden to his mother. As an adult, a tool for Margot. Even after getting married, he had never learned how to be a good husband.

All he had left was the uniform—his glory, and the only source of pride he could show his son.

If even that was taken away, what would he have left?

Clara knew what this meant to Rhys. She looked up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and let out a long breath.

"Do you remember what you said to me in the observation room?"

Clara spoke slowly, word by word.

"You said, just for one more glance at me, you didn't want to be a hero for the rest of your life."

"I'm right here now."

Clara looked into his eyes, a layer of moisture gradually welling up in hers.

"I'm standing right here, looking at you."

"Rhys, is it the uniform, or is it me and Felix?"