The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 411

"Dad, why did you buy flowers?"

Felix, nestled in Rhys’s arms, poked at the wrapping around the bouquet of sunflowers. The yellow petals were in full, vibrant bloom, their leaves still dotted with droplets of water.

Rhys whispered, "They're for your mom. Do you think she'll accept them?"

Felix tilted his head and thought for a moment. "If you're good, Mom probably won't throw them away."

Clara’s gaze lingered on Rhys's knuckles, which were red from the cold, before flicking to the wall clock.

"Didn't you say you were coming right back after filing the application? Felix was at the window all afternoon, asking when you'd be home."

In truth, it wasn't just Felix. She had been checking the time constantly herself.

It was only a few blocks from Riverside Court to the police department. Submitting a transfer request that had already been approved in advance and exchanging a few pleasantries should have taken two hours at most. Yet, he had been gone all day.

She’d half-wondered if he’d gotten himself killed somewhere.

Rhys took a couple of steps forward, still holding their son, and confessed, "I went to the hospital to see Grandfather and Aunt Mia."

Clara nodded. The old man of the Huntington family was gravely ill. He was Rhys’s grandfather, after all, and it was only right for him to visit more often.

"And then…" Rhys swallowed, choosing his words carefully. "I waited for Noah to get off his shift at the hospital. We had dinner together."

As expected, Clara's brow furrowed the moment he finished. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe. His clothes were clean, his collar neat and unwrinkled. His expression wasn't one of irritation.

But she knew his old temper all too well.

"You had dinner with Noah?"

"Yeah."

"Did you hit him?" The question slipped out before Clara could stop it, and she immediately regretted it.

When had it come to this? When she looked at Rhys, her subconscious always braced for the worst. She was afraid he would lose his temper, afraid he would use the same tactics on a man who had done nothing but help her through her darkest times as he would on a criminal.

Rhys was speechless, his expression a mixture of helplessness and sorrow.

So that was what she thought of him now—a man who could only solve problems with his fists when faced with a rival.

Before Rhys could explain, Felix wriggled out of his arms and slid to the floor, his little face set in a firm line.

Felix lifted his chin. "He's going far away to study, and he gave me the job of watching over you."

"Watching over me for what?" Rhys asked, playing along.

"Daddy Noah said he'll be back when the snow melts. But if you're not good and make Mom sad, I have to call him and tell him to come back early."

After finishing, Felix made sure to add, "You need to feel the pressure, you know?"

He spoke in such a formal, structured way, even using a phrase like "feel the pressure."

Clara was speechless. "What pressure? Where do you even learn these things?"

Rhys, however, couldn't bring himself to laugh. He accepted the weight of his four-year-old son's warning with complete seriousness.

He promised earnestly, "Alright, I get it. I'll be on my best behavior."

He wouldn't give Noah any reason to come back early.

Clara gently pinched her son's cheek and coaxed him away. "Alright, Mr. Supervisor, why don't you go brush your teeth and wash your face? When you're done, I'll read you a story."