His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 206

When she got married, she let Jonathan lead her by the nose, never realizing he already had someone else in his heart.

Now, even in divorce, she still couldn’t act on her own. If Jonathan refused, she couldn’t even leave him on her own terms.

Niamh dug her nails painfully into her palm.

The food arrived—identical to what Peter was having at the next table.

A pang of guilt shot through her. She wanted to glance over at Peter, but Jonathan’s cold voice cut through her thoughts.

“Take a look. This is the latest version.”

The divorce papers were finally set in front of her. Niamh took them and started reading from the first page.

Jonathan sat next to her, quietly eating his meal.

Niamh focused all her attention on the document. Only when she finally looked up did she notice her plate had been filled with slices of black truffle Wagyu steak, caviar, foie gras, and Alaskan king crab.

She blinked in surprise.

Had Jonathan really put all this on her plate?

“It won’t taste good if it gets cold,” he said softly, never pausing as he took another bite of his own food.

Niamh hadn’t intended to eat, but hunger gnawed at her, and with all that food already on her plate, it felt wasteful not to.

As soon as she picked up her knife and fork, Jonathan’s lips curled ever so slightly.

He didn’t say another word.

Neither did Niamh.

They became the quietest pair dining in the whole restaurant.

She read as she ate, eyes scanning the divorce agreement, flipping page after page. This new version was still thick, but compared to the last one—where he’d demanded three hundred million dollars from her—it was considerably slimmer.

She’d learned her lesson from the last time and was mentally prepared. Jonathan probably wouldn’t extort her for another obscene sum, but surely he’d set some traps in the fine print.

“Why are you angry?”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Niamh shot back, ignoring his question.

“It’s exactly what it says,” he replied coolly, offering nothing more.

Niamh’s mind was a jumble.

“What kind of reaction is this? Last time, you demanded three hundred million and I was angry—understandably. But this time, not only aren’t you asking for a payout, you’re actually giving me eight million in compensation. Shouldn’t I be happy?”

Jonathan spoke as if it was nothing.

Niamh wasn’t about to quibble over the eight million. Jonathan was wealthy—if he wanted to give it to her, she’d take it. After all, she’d lost the most precious thing in her life; he owed her that much.

But that wasn’t the problem.

“It’s the last five pages,” she said, voice tight. “You want to transfer ten percent of The Thomas Group’s shares to me. What’s that supposed to mean?”