The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 601

Two days later, Clara and Annie were discharged from the hospital and returned home.

Before this, Clara had never imagined that she, as a mother, would one day find herself completely sidelined.

It was all because Rhys had morphed into the ultimate doting father.

Clara hadn't wanted to check into a postpartum recovery center and originally planned to hire two nannies to work round-the-clock shifts, but Rhys rejected the idea outright.

During the months of her pregnancy, he had specifically bought a baby doll to practice on.

Aside from hiring daytime help to handle meals and household chores, he took full control of the night feeds, diaper changes, and burping. Clara couldn't even get a turn.

At night, the moment Annie let out the softest whimper in her crib, the man beside Clara would already be moving before she could even open her eyes.

By the time Clara was fully awake, Rhys would have already prepared a bottle or expertly finished changing their daughter's diaper.

All of that was fine.

What Clara couldn't handle was the sheer contrast in his demeanor.

One afternoon, Clara was leaning against the headboard, sipping the soup her mom had made. She peeked over the rim of the bowl at the crib nearby.

Rhys was sitting on a low stool right next to it.

This was the same relentless officer who had single-handedly beaten six thugs armed with steel pipes into submission at an abandoned building on North Loop Road. And now he was bowing his head, cooing softly at his daughter.

"Is my sweet Annie being a good girl? Are you hungry again? Let Daddy see—how did my Annie get so gorgeous? Give Daddy a little smile, won't you?"

He was softening his voice so much it was practically unrecognizable.

Rhys himself probably didn't realize that the completely unfiltered tenderness he showed Annie was something he had never revealed to anyone else in his entire life.

With Clara, he had learned how to express himself, but deep down, he was still cautious. With Felix, he tried his hardest to give him the best, but there was always an undercurrent of lingering guilt.

Annie was the only exception.

This was the child he had guarded since the very first heartbeat, the daughter he had watched come into the world with his own eyes. With her, he had zero baggage, no debts to repay, and no regrets.

He could start from scratch and love her unconditionally.

This blatant favoritism quickly sparked intense resentment from the other little man in the house.

Eventually, word of this grievance reached Simon Walker.

Simon sat in the living room, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

"Rhys, do you have any idea how sickening you sound right now?"

Rhys didn't even look up. "No clue."

"Let me give you a demonstration." Simon cleared his throat, pitching his voice high to mimic him. "Is my sweet Annie being a good girl? Give Daddy a little smile, won't you?"

Alex Thorne was sitting nearby, laughing so hard he nearly slid out of his chair.

The tips of Rhys's ears flushed red, but he stubbornly kept holding his daughter, refusing to let go.

But even the most devoted father had his moments of defeat.

Late one night, a month after she was born, the little girl suddenly started screaming her lungs out, either startled or suffering from colic.

He made a bottle, checked her temperature, changed her diaper, and paced the room countless times, but Annie just kept her eyes squeezed shut and wailed.