The Officer's Runaway Wife and Secret Son novel Chapter 357

Clara remained stone-cold, unmoved by his desperation. "Get out."

Rhys was at a loss. Afraid of upsetting her further, he had no choice but to release his hand. "Clara…"

"I said, get out!"

The door slammed shut in his face with a loud bang.

Rhys pressed his temples. His head was spinning, his vision doubling. He slid down the door, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

Somehow, his mind drifted back to a summer many years ago.

He had been patrolling the streets on his motorcycle.

Clara was only twenty then, dressed in a red tank top and denim shorts, completely devoid of any girlish shyness. She'd yelled in front of a whole street of pedestrians, "Rhys, pay attention to me!"

The sun was so bright that day. The wind was warm, and his heart was a mess.

She was the most brilliant splash of red in the entire world.

…

Clara buried herself under the covers, forcing herself to think about Noah, about Felix.

About anyone but the man outside her door.

Whether he was there or not, what did it have to do with her?

No one asked him to come.

The wall clock ticked away. In the meantime, Noah sent a message, saying he'd contact her after he got off work.

Clara replied with an "Okay."

There was no sound from outside. Besides the slam of the door, she couldn't hear a thing.

She glanced at the time. Three in the afternoon.

Clara finally couldn't stay in bed any longer. She threw off the covers and sat up.

Had he left? He must have. Rhys was proud to his core. The begging and pleading just now was already his limit. After being shut out like that, he should have enough self-awareness to leave.

Besides, Mia said his grandfather was on his deathbed. Since he was back in Brighton City, he should go to the hospital to see him.

With that thought, Clara felt a little lighter.

She hadn't eaten properly for the past two days, and after chugging so much alcohol in that state last night, her stomach was now starting to feel uncomfortable. She took a shower, planning to go to the restaurant for a bite to eat.

He was running a fever again.

She remembered Noah telling her how poor his health was now, that even a bad cold or an infection could lead to pneumonia.

Clara's heart skipped a beat. She patted his face.

"Rhys!" she said, her touch firmer. "Wake up! Don't fall asleep!"

Rhys's brows furrowed, his eyelids twitched, and he mumbled something unintelligible.

Clara couldn't make it out. Cursing under her breath, she bent down, hooked her arm under his, and started dragging him into the room.

A grown man in a dead faint was incredibly heavy. It took every ounce of her strength, but Clara finally managed to drag him to the sofa. With no energy left to get him onto it, she could only prop him up against it.

Clara sat on the floor, catching her breath for a long while, her mind a chaotic mess.

How long had it been, and he was sick again?

She went to get a glass of lukewarm water and supported his head, pressing the rim of the glass to his lips. But Rhys's jaw was clenched tight, and she couldn't get any water in. Instead, it spilled all over his shirt.

"Open your mouth!"

Clara gripped his jaw, growing anxious. "Do you want to die of thirst or burn to death? Open your mouth!"