His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 119

Niamh stared at Jonathan's signature scrawled across the divorce papers—bold, elegant, and unmistakably his.

It was done.

This was it. She and Jonathan would finally be divorced.

After this, their lives would go their separate ways. Jonathan would be free to be with Marina, openly, without any pretense or guilt.

But then again, even before the divorce, he'd never bothered to hide his relationship with Marina.

"So, what's this? Regretting it now?" Jonathan's voice dripped with disdain.

Niamh looked up and met his eyes, saw the unmasked ridicule there.

"No..." she murmured, shaking her head.

She didn't regret it. Still, holding the freshly signed divorce agreement in her hands, she didn't feel the rush of excitement or relief she'd imagined.

Maybe it was because Jonathan had been the one to propose the divorce this time. Because he didn't want her dragging him down any longer.

"Do you have a pen?" she asked quietly.

"No."

Niamh hesitated, surprised. As far as she remembered, Jonathan always carried a pen with him.

"You think I'm making excuses? That I'm trying to give you a reason not to do this?" His tone was tinged with exasperation—he still didn't believe she truly wanted to walk away.

Jonathan had always been proud—arrogant, even. But then, he had every reason to be.

"I'll sign it when I get home and find a pen," Niamh said, folding the papers and tucking them into her bag.

"Wait."

Jonathan caught her by the wrist and led her into the kitchen.

"Make my medicine for me one last time—my stomach hurts."

"Won't Marina do it for you after work?"

"She'll be tired."

The absurdity of his reasoning almost made Niamh laugh, but the sound caught in her throat.

She left Jade Peak House alone that evening, refusing to make Jonathan's medicine one last time.

His reply came quickly:

Works for me.

Niamh let out a slow breath.

Was there anyone on earth who'd had a harder time getting divorced than she had?

But at least... it was almost over.

She caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the phone screen and absently touched the bandage on her forehead. Then she sent Jonathan another message:

Is your stomach any better? Did you take your medicine?

By then, Jonathan was already back at the office, listening to Prescott's report.

His phone buzzed, and Marina—seated beside him—picked it up.

Niamh hadn't slept well in days.

The rumors had only gotten worse online, but at least tomorrow it would all be over. For better or worse, she'd be free.