His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 124

"Drive safe—text me when you get home, okay?"

"I will. Don't worry."

He watched as Marina got into her car, her rose-pink convertible vanishing at the end of the quiet road.

"Come on, let's go inside."

For the first time that evening, Jonathan spoke directly to Niamh. But the oversized bouquet he was carrying hid his face completely, making it impossible for her to read his expression.

She followed Jonathan into the villa, sneezing more than once along the way—the pollen from the flowers was getting to her.

Jonathan didn't seem to notice, nor did he ask about it.

The place was beautiful, nestled among rolling hills with crisp, fresh air—a perfect retreat from the city.

As dusk settled over the mountain resort, lights began to twinkle on in the spa lodge, casting everything into a peaceful hush.

Jonathan said nothing the entire way, as if he had nothing at all to say to Niamh.

"Jonathan, about the divorce…"

Niamh couldn't hold back any longer. As she spoke, Jonathan finally shifted the bouquet aside.

At last, she could see his face.

Jonathan had one of those mouths that always seemed to carry a hint of a smile, even when he wasn't trying. But tonight, his lips were pressed into a straight, almost sullen line.

He looked—if anything—angry.

"If you don't want Granddad to have a heart attack, then don't bring it up. Not a word."

His tone wasn't sharp, but it was cold as ever—utterly devoid of feeling.

Niamh knew exactly what he meant by "not a word."

The divorce.

That wasn't happening tonight.

City Hall had closed hours ago.

She sighed inwardly.

Despite being called a "wellness center," the spa resort was nothing like a hospital. Clifford's room looked nothing like a patient ward; it was more like a suite in a palace—richly decorated and impossibly grand.

Inside, Sprague and Marigold were both there.

On any other day, neither of them would have bothered to hide their disdain for Niamh—especially Marigold.

Usually, it would be a lecture about her being late, or a complaint about her showing up empty-handed.

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