His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 226

Marina and Niamh were rivals in love. By all rights, he’d always been firmly in Marina’s camp, so befriending Niamh seemed out of the question.

“The doctor said Niamh needs peace and quiet. Mr. Thomas, if you have nothing more to say, maybe it’s time for you to go.”

Peter never liked Jonathan.

Especially because, whenever Jonathan was around, Niamh seemed completely on edge.

“I’m Niamh’s husband. I don’t see her kicking me out, so why should you?” Jonathan stood there with his hands in his pockets, eyes cold as he stared Peter down.

Peter didn’t back down. “Aren’t you two about to get divorced?”

Jonathan’s face didn’t change, but a storm clouded his eyes.

It was as if the whole world already knew about the impending divorce.

“About to get divorced… means we’re still married, doesn’t it? Or do I need to explain that to you, Mr. Peter?”

“Oh, you’ve got some nerve, calling yourself her husband!” Lana couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

“What kind of husband vanishes when his wife ends up in the hospital after a car accident? How many days has Nia been here? Where the hell have you been? If you couldn’t show up, at least you could’ve sent money! If the driver at fault hadn’t paid up, Nia wouldn’t even have been able to cover her medical bills!”

Lana’s face was bright red with rage.

“And now that Nia’s out of danger and finally awake, oh look, you decide to show your face! And you actually have the guts to still call yourself her husband? Let me tell you, the unluckiest thing that ever happened to Nia was marrying you!”

The room fell silent, not even a whisper.

Lana, breathless, realized she’d let her temper get away from her.

But honestly, it felt good.

Besides, Niamh was divorcing Jonathan anyway. Lana wasn’t worried about Jonathan taking it out on her friend.

Peter had come ready to tear into Jonathan too, but compared to Lana, he had to admit defeat.

“Anyone else want to yell at me? Let’s get it all out,” Jonathan turned to Peter and Preston, his voice even, almost bored.

Peter said nothing. Preston just shook his head, hands up in surrender, as if to say, “Not a chance.”

At last, Jonathan looked to the hospital bed, meeting Niamh’s gaze.

“And you?”

Niamh shook her head, silent.

“Well, if you’re all done, and no one else feels like shouting, then I’d like you to leave. I have something to discuss with my wife, privately.”

Niamh couldn’t help but find it both absurd and bitterly ironic that, even now, Jonathan still called her his wife.