The Officer's Runaway Wife and Secret Son novel Chapter 413

"I want to go!" Felix turned and shook Clara's arm. "Mom, can we please go shooting tomorrow?"

Seeing the pure excitement on her son's face, Clara sighed inwardly. She knew what Rhys was doing, but looking at the little hand tugging on her sleeve, she couldn't bring herself to say no. The conflicts between adults shouldn't rob a child of his happiness. She had no right to prevent them from building a normal father-son relationship.

"Only for two hours," Clara finally relented. "After that, we'll eat out and then come straight home for your nap."

Felix nodded eagerly, cheered, and jumped off the sofa, running toward his room. "I'm going to pick out my clothes for tomorrow!"

Rhys immediately pulled out his phone and opened a ticketing app. After a few taps, he asked, "I need his details to register for the tickets. How to spell Felix?"

Clara recited the information.

Rhys typed it in, then paused. "Felix. Why did you choose that name?"

"It means ‘lucky’ and ‘successful’ in Latin," she said quietly. "I just wanted him to have a good, peaceful life."

Rhys's hands stopped. Peace. Stability. The motto hanging in the main hall of the police department echoed in his mind, a sentiment his own father used to repeat: Guard the city’s light, and protect the peace of every home.

He didn't dare say anything more. After completing the purchase, he locked his phone and placed it face down on the table. "Tickets are booked. Ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Clara stood and collected the empty water glasses from the table. "Get some rest."

As she turned toward the guest bedroom, her hand just touching the doorknob, she heard a soft "Good night" from behind her.

-

At ten o'clock the next morning, the kids' play center was bustling with weekend crowds. Felix held Clara's hand, leading her past the ball pit and climbing wall, making a beeline for the soft-tip shooting gallery at the far end.

The gallery featured a wall covered in colorful balloons, with a long counter of realistic-looking toy guns in front of it. Most of the kids in line were six, seven, or older. There was hardly anyone as small as Felix, who, at just four years old, barely reached the edge of the shooting counter.

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