His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 217

During the busy days leading up to Luminous Divas Fashion Week, Niamh’s mind wasn’t wholly absorbed in work—she hadn’t lost sight of her looming divorce with Jonathan.

Jonathan insisted she keep the ten percent stake in his company. She couldn’t refuse: if she accepted, their marriage would be over, but they’d still be colleagues. If she turned it down, the divorce would once again fall through.

After much deliberation, Niamh chose to accept.

She signed her name on three copies of the divorce papers first, then waited for Jonathan’s business trip to end so he could return home.

This time, it was real. She and Jonathan were really getting divorced.

Sitting in her office, Niamh stared at the divorce agreement on her desk, a tangle of emotions swirling inside her.

She didn’t feel any longing for Jonathan, and there was nothing left in their shattered marriage for her to miss. If anything stung, it was only the decade of youth and love she had poured into him.

Her phone chimed—a text from Jonathan.

One word.

Alright.

Cold and concise, as if he’d measured out every letter.

Niamh exhaled slowly.

She arranged a time with Jonathan, grabbed the divorce paperwork, and drove toward city hall.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was also on the road, but Marina was in the passenger seat beside him. He had promised to drop her home first.

The industrial park was a long drive from city hall, and traffic was thick. Niamh sat behind the wheel, drumming her fingers at a red light, her nerves prickling with impatience.

Her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen, thinking Jonathan might have arrived first and was calling out of impatience.

But the display showed an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?” She answered through her Bluetooth headset.

“Is this Miss Niamh Rivers?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“Hello, Miss Rivers, this is Harmony Senior Residence. We’re terribly sorry to inform you that, due to an oversight by one of our new interns, your mother managed to slip out of the facility without anyone noticing…”

“What?!”

Niamh had just cleared the intersection and nearly slammed on her brakes.

“We’re very sorry, truly. We’ve already contacted the police. You told us last time to call you first if there were any issues, rather than Mr. Thomas, so—”

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