His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 191

Niamh staggered, convinced for a split second that Jonathan was about to push her off the roof. Her skin went cold with fear.

But Jonathan caught her in time, pulling her firmly into his arms.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, heart pounding.

Jonathan always wore some expensive cologne, a scent she'd grown familiar with over the years.

Tonight, he'd changed it.

This one was sharper, like glacial meltwater—crisp and biting, with an undercurrent of something dark and dangerous.

Niamh knew her heart wasn't racing because of the embrace.

It was the aftershock, the adrenaline of fear not yet faded.

Jonathan held her tight, both of them still teetering on the edge of the rooftop. One wrong move, one misstep, and they'd both topple eighty stories down to the street, nothing left but broken bodies.

Niamh didn't dare move a muscle. She let him hold her, tense as a statue.

The wind picked up, cold and insistent.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

"Is this what you wanted?"

Jonathan's voice was icy, as if his words could frost the air.

Niamh didn't answer.

"A messy divorce, lawsuits, The Thomas Group's stock in free fall, someone's forced to the edge—"

Before he could finish, Niamh shoved him away.

Jonathan felt the jolt in his chest, but his reflexes kicked in—he caught her wrist, refusing to let her slip.

Anyone watching would think they both had a death wish, grappling at the edge like this. But it was Jonathan's accusation that made Niamh furious.

"What would I gain from driving one of your employees to suicide? If I wanted to force anyone off this roof, it'd be you, not them."

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