His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 209

The Tipsy Alchemist was a small, unassuming bar, the sort of place you’d walk right past if you didn’t know it was there. But behind its nondescript façade, it was strictly members-only.

Niamh wasn’t a member. As soon as she stepped out of the car, she spotted Peter waiting for her at the entrance.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked, walking up to him.

“Not at all. Perfect timing,” Peter replied.

He led her inside, and they settled into a cozy booth. Drinks had already been ordered; Peter slid a margarita across the table to her.

Niamh took a sip, then offered a sheepish smile. “I’m really sorry about today. That dinner was a disaster—I owe you a proper meal next time.”

Peter grinned. “Deal.”

He accepted her apology without protest, making it clear there were no hard feelings.

“So, Jonathan wanted to see you… Was it about the divorce?” The question was posed offhandedly, but Niamh could sense an undercurrent of caution in Peter’s voice.

She suspected this was why he’d invited her for drinks in the first place.

“Yeah,” she admitted with a nod.

Truthfully, she had no desire to talk about the divorce, but Peter’s curiosity was hard to miss.

“Did he give you a hard time?” Peter asked, concern evident in his tone.

“No. Well, he used to, but not this time.” She shook her head, forcing a wry smile. “He didn’t just go easy on me—he’s offering me eight million as a settlement.”

Niamh had thought the figure was staggering; surely Peter would be shocked. But he just nodded, utterly unfazed. “It’s what he should give you. Honestly, if it were eighty million, I’d say it’s still not too much.”

Niamh couldn’t help but laugh. She certainly didn’t think she was worth that much—least of all to Jonathan.

“If he didn’t make things difficult, and the money’s fair, what’s still bothering you?” Peter asked.

She glanced at him, and he quickly looked away. Then he pulled a small gift box from his pocket and slid it across the table.

“I meant to give you this at dinner,” he said.

“I can’t accept this, Peter—there’s no reason…” she began, but he interrupted gently.

“It’s just a gift. Congratulations on your winning design at the conference.”

With that, it would have been rude to refuse. Niamh opened the box.

It was about the size of a ring box—and sure enough, inside was a ring.

She looked up at Peter in surprise. She remembered when she’d left her last job, he’d given her jewelry then too—a brooch, not a ring.

A man giving a woman a ring as a gift—it was bound to be misunderstood. But Peter’s expression remained perfectly casual. Maybe, she thought, handling jewelry day in and day out had made him immune to the implications.