His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 6

Niamh felt deflated, stripped of anger, left only with confusion. It was as if the last bit of fight had drained from her, leaving her adrift.

She'd called Prescott, who told her Jonathan was currently at the office.

Which meant Marina had lied.

Niamh refused to take that manipulative homewrecker's word for anything. She needed to hear the truth straight from Jonathan.

Before leaving the hospital, she stopped by the herbal medicine clinic to pick up a new batch of remedies. Jonathan had chronic stomach issues, and his mother distrusted conventional medicine—so, all these years, it had been up to Niamh to brew the herbal concoctions herself. She knew every measurement, every simmering minute by heart.

Their supply at home was nearly gone. If not for all the recent chaos, she would have restocked the herbs sooner.

With a heavy bag of medicine in hand, she headed to The Thomas Group headquarters.

The receptionist recognized her—she'd delivered lunch to Jonathan before, though back then the woman assumed she was the housekeeper.

"Ms. Rivers, Mr. Thomas is in a meeting right now. If you'd like, you can leave the medicine with his assistant, Mr. Prescott, in the office down the hall."

"Thank you," Niamh replied.

She didn't bother correcting the receptionist—didn't waste breath insisting she was Mrs. Thomas, not Ms. Rivers.

Instead of heading to Prescott's office, Niamh took the elevator to the very top floor and made her way to the executive suite.

The frosted glass door was ajar. Through the gap, she saw Jonathan inside, along with Preston Winslow.

"Jonathan, don't pretend you're over Marina," Preston was saying. "You could even do that to your own child…"

Niamh froze mid-knock, her hand suspended in the air.

"It has nothing to do with Marina," Jonathan replied.

"Whether she moves back or not, I'm never having a child with Niamh."

"Why not?" Preston pressed.

"People only have so much energy. Once she has a child, she'll change. And right now, it's only the old man and my mother who care about the issue. Once there's a child, things will get much more complicated." Jonathan took a drag from his cigarette, that charming half-smile on his lips suddenly piercingly cold to Niamh.

"And besides… I knew she was pregnant. I made sure to be as rough as possible, so the doctor said her uterus was damaged. She'll never have children again."

His voice was so calm, so detached, it was almost clinical.

On the other side of the door, Niamh felt sweat chilling her skin, soaking her through.

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