The Officer's Runaway Wife and Secret Son novel Chapter 387

Rhys's heart pounded. He was about to hang up when he felt a gaze fall upon him, pinning him in place.

Clara couldn't help but laugh, a laugh of pure exasperation.

The mysterious, reclusive tenant with a strange personality who had rented her apartment for four years and always paid on time.

It was this man, the one who had once never even come home.

The agent was still chattering on, "Mr. Huntington? Say something. This is a really generous offer. I have a few other listings, all in elevator buildings, much nicer than that place. You can live anywhere…"

Clara walked over and took the phone right out of his hand. "He heard you."

His hand suddenly empty, Rhys started to reach for the phone, but a single cold glance from Clara made him retreat obediently.

Speaking into the receiver, her voice was cool and calm. "There's no need to schedule a meeting. I'm standing right in front of him now."

The young agent's brain short-circuited. "Uh... what? Is this Miss Bridges? You're with him? Then…"

"I'll handle the rest with him directly. Thank you for your trouble."

With that, Clara ended the call.

Felix, not understanding what was going on, blinked his big eyes, looking from his guilt-ridden father to his expressionless mother.

His little mind whirred, arriving at a simple conclusion. "Did you steal something from Mommy?"

Rhys immediately denied it. "I didn't steal anything."

Felix didn't believe him. "If you didn't, why are you hiding? Only people who do bad things feel guilty."

Rhys pressed his lips together, silent.

Forty-five hundred a month for four years. How could renting a place be considered stealing?

He held his breath, bracing himself for Clara to call him pathetic.

Even after the divorce, he had slept in her bed, used the old furniture she left behind, and looked out at the familiar scenery she had grown up with.

"How long have you lived there?"

Rhys answered honestly, "Four years."

Since the day she left.

Since the day he could no longer find a single trace of her in Riverside Court.

Whenever he survived one of those near-death missions, whenever the pain kept him from sleeping, or whenever he felt like he was going mad from the barrage of phone calls, he would retreat to that small apartment.

Thinking about it now, it truly was the stolen oxygen that had kept him alive.

"Why?" Clara asked. "Even if you didn't want to go back to Riverside Court or the Huntington estate, you have plenty of other properties. You weren't short of a place to live."

"I was afraid if I rented it to someone else, they would throw all your things away," he said.

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