His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 215

Jonathan’s voice was as calm and measured as ever, his tone cool and detached, though his manners toward her were nothing short of gentlemanly.

Yet Niamh couldn’t shake the strange sense of pressure in the air—a heaviness that prickled at her nerves.

It felt as if Jonathan was angry, though he gave no outward sign.

Niamh didn’t ask questions. She simply focused on her meal in silence.

The only people at the dining table were the two of them. Her grandfather had always been an early riser and had already finished breakfast.

Afterward, Niamh exchanged a quick farewell with Clifford and left the old manor ahead of the others.

Right now, she had more pressing matters than the divorce papers Jonathan had given her. Important work demanded her full attention.

Luminous Divas Fashion Week had begun requesting blueprints and samples from its invited designers.

To participate in the high-profile jewelry fashion week, Niamh needed to prepare at least one complete collection, with six to eight original pieces.

Quantity was never the challenge. The real test was how to stand out in a room full of shining stars.

At this stage, inspiration was in short supply, and Niamh refused to let herself be distracted by anything else.

Thomas Manor.

Jonathan knocked on the door of Clifford’s study.

“Grandpa, it’s me.”

He stood before Clifford, who sat in a finely carved antique chair, and instinctively knew what his grandfather wanted to discuss.

“Jonathan, is it true you’re divorcing Nia?” Clifford asked, straightforward as ever.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

A spark of hope flashed in Clifford’s eyes.

“It’s Niamh who wants the divorce,” Jonathan said, his voice steady and certain. That glimmer in Clifford’s eyes faded at once.

“You’re not seriously going to blame all this on Nia, are you?” Clifford pressed.

“Of course not.”

“That’s why I never let anyone else take Niamh’s place.”

“You really think all Nia cares about is being Mrs. Thomas? Do you think that title means anything to her?”

Jonathan fell silent.

Clifford’s anger seemed to drain from him all at once. He was getting on in years, and if he could help it, he’d never have to meddle in his grandchildren’s marriages.

“Jonathan, I told you three years ago—Nia is the one who truly loves you. Not Marina, who left you, threatened you, and kept testing you. Maybe she was your first love, the one you clung to back when you were both in that juvenile home. But people change.”

Clifford had lost count of how many times he’d given Jonathan this same lecture in the study. Every time, it was about the same thing.

Grandfather and grandson argued for ages—or rather, Clifford lectured for ages while Jonathan barely said a word. At last, Clifford could only sigh in defeat.

“Just answer me this,” Clifford said wearily. “Do you even want Nia back?”

Jonathan stayed silent.

“You must understand what Nia really wants is your love. Can you give that to her?”