The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 401

By the time they reached the parking garage, Simon was sniffling, his nose raw from the cold.

"Man, it's freezing. I haven't been back in so long, I've completely forgotten what Brighton City weather is like."

He grumbled, "Alex is the smart one. He's probably soaking up the sun on some beach in Heron Bay right now."

Clara just laughed, teasing that he was getting old and couldn't handle the cold anymore.

The two bickered back and forth, the sorrowful atmosphere finally dissipating as they drove to the downtown commercial district.

After they got out of the car, Clara stood still, looking down at her phone to check the shop's location when someone bumped right into her.

Clara staggered back half a step, but Simon quickly steadied her.

"Watch where you're going, will ya?" Simon frowned, his tone sharp.

The person opposite them patted down their clothes, then looked up, a smirk playing on their face.

"Long time no see, Clara."

Clara remembered him.

Owen Price.

She had never had a good impression of Owen. He was an idle rich kid who did whatever he wanted, completely without scruples. He was handsome enough, but his flippant, devil-may-care attitude soured his good looks, making him seem cheap and promiscuous.

Most importantly, Owen never had a kind word for her whenever they met.

They were standing close, and a gust of cold wind carried the scent of women's perfume and medicine to Clara's nose.

It was somewhat familiar.

"Long time no see," Clara said coolly, taking half a step back to create some distance.

Owen's eyes roamed over her, then glanced at Simon beside her. He chuckled. "I heard Rhys was sick. You, the ex-wife, are certainly loyal, rushing all the way back from Heron Bay to take care of him."

Simon had a short fuse and couldn't stand people who stirred up trouble for no reason. He shielded Clara behind him, tilted his chin up, and told the man to get lost.

"If you're sick, go see a doctor. If you're not, then scram. Who are you to be so nosy? Good dogs don't block the path. Move it."

But Clara found it strange.

How did he know she was in Heron Bay?

Returning to Brighton City had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to find Margot. Rhys's situation had been a complete, unexpected accident.

Even within the Huntington family, only Mia knew about her return.

How would Owen know?

Owen completely ignored Simon's hostile attitude, continuing to look at Clara. "Seriously, I haven't seen Rhys in a while. How's he doing?"

"He's not dying," Clara said bluntly.

"Oh... that's good."

Owen drew out the word, his tone holding not a shred of relief, but rather a hint of disappointment.

Simon rummaged through the shoe cabinet for a while, only to find that besides the slippers for Rhys, Clara, and Felix, there were no spare pairs.

He rolled his eyes, bent down to pick up Felix, and plopped onto the sofa in his socks.

"I'm exhausted. This god-awful weather... all for your cravings. Your Daddy Simon is about to freeze to death."

Rhys took the chestnut cakes into the kitchen to plate them, then brought out two glasses of warm water for the coffee table—one for Clara, and one he pushed in front of Simon.

Simon raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes as he sized him up.

"Captain Huntington, your service is top-notch. Taking bags, serving drinks. If you ever quit being a cop, you could be my butler. Room and board included, name your price. It'll definitely be higher than your measly salary."

Rhys ignored him, turning to pick up a stack of papers from the coffee table and handing them to Clara.

"It's done."

Clara took it and saw it was a transfer request form.

The reason for the application was written in a standard, formal tone: Due to health reasons and family needs, after careful consideration, I request a transfer from the SWAT team to a position in the Police Department's Command Center.

Rhys's name was signed in the bottom right corner.

"I'll submit it at the station tomorrow," Rhys said, his gaze deep as he looked at her. "I've already spoken to my superiors. As soon as the paperwork is processed, I can report to the new post."

Simon leaned over for a peek and couldn't help but click his tongue.

"The Command Center, huh? Now that's a cushy office job. I thought you were going to serve on the SWAT team until a glorious death, so they could hang your picture on the wall for everyone to admire."