His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 186

She watched as Preston Winslow scolded her so fiercely he was nearly out of breath, his face flushed red with frustration. In response, she quietly poured him a glass of water.

Preston Winslow was all set to keep ranting, but when he saw Niamh hand him the water, his anger softened.

"You're a grown woman, not some naïve kid. How can you be so trusting? Of all the lawyers in the city, you just had to go and choose the absolute worst—"

He took a sip, and the plain water, which should have tasted like nothing, suddenly seemed oddly sweet.

Niamh watched him ramble on for a while, then abruptly asked, "Preston, why have you been acting so differently toward me lately? Did something happen?"

Preston stiffened. "Me? I haven't changed at all!"

He tried to deny it, but his face only grew redder—by now, he was blushing so hard he looked like he'd just run a marathon.

Niamh's instincts told her Preston was hiding something.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Preston was never good at keeping secrets. Finally, he couldn't hold it in any longer and blurted out, "Niamh, can you… drive?"

"Of course I can!" Niamh nodded.

What kind of question was that? Preston had been there when she picked up her car, and he'd seen her drive plenty of times.

"No, I mean… can you race?"

Niamh's eyes widened in surprise.

At last, Preston looked her square in the eyes. He suddenly grabbed her hand, startling her.

"Niamh, I was there that day. I saw The Speed Queen—Katarina—take off her helmet…"

As soon as Preston said those words, Niamh understood everything.

No wonder he'd been treating her so differently lately.

"You're Katarina…"

He said it like a question, but it was really a statement. Niamh couldn't help but laugh.

He probably still couldn't believe it, even now.

His over-the-top concern and warmth left Niamh feeling a bit overwhelmed—as if he were her boyfriend or something.

The white BMW pulled away, and as Preston turned to leave, he nearly bumped into Jonathan.

Jonathan stared at him like he'd seen a ghost. "Do I really look that scary?"

"Oh, no, Jonathan! What are you doing here?"

"You're the one who asked me to meet."

Preston's embarrassment deepened. "Right, right. I did. How did I forget?"

Jonathan's dark eyes followed the BMW as it disappeared down the street. "What were you just doing?"

"Nothing! Just… a pretty woman asked me for directions."

"Is that so?" Jonathan's expression was unreadable, his tone cool.

The two of them entered the hotel, one after the other. Suddenly, Preston blurted out, "Jonathan, are you really planning to divorce Niamh?"