His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 266

If Marina hadn’t been so conniving herself—trying to seduce him just to hurt Niamh—none of what happened afterward would have come to pass.

As far as Quentin was concerned, Marina was simply reaping what she’d sown.

Niamh had made a point of thanking him publicly during her speech, but in truth, Quentin hadn’t done much at all.

The idea had been Niamh’s from the start.

Back when Marina first tried to lure him in, Quentin told Niamh about it right away. He didn’t take matters into his own hands; he wanted to hear what Niamh thought.

Niamh suggested they could turn the tables on Marina and use her to pull off their magic act at Luminous Divas Fashion Week.

That way, Marina’s every scheme was under their control; she was unwittingly following a script they’d written.

Quentin thought it was a solid plan.

Still, Niamh made it clear: if Quentin felt uncomfortable at any point, they’d scrap the ruse immediately.

He’d already been burned once—he’d hurt Niamh before, all because he’d tried to help Marina.

In the end, Marina had betrayed him, while the one who pulled him out of the mess was Niamh.

Quentin never considered himself especially clever, but he knew he wasn’t stupid enough to let Marina use him again.

After everything that happened at the Nova Jewelry Design Awards, he’d seen clearly who truly deserved his loyalty.

The plan was flawless; the only hitch was whether he could convincingly fool Marina with his performance.

To avoid arousing her suspicion, Quentin had to act the part of the lecherous, overeager fool, all the way until he’d spilled every detail of Niamh’s theme and concept for the Luminous Divas Fashion Week.

The bottle of perfume Quentin handed Marina really did contain hydrochloric acid.

Niamh had prepped the fluorite by exposing it to a UV lamp for hours, charging it up, then coated it with an alkaline layer to block its phosphorescence.

Niamh was dancing with Peter, lost in the music and too buoyant to notice the hostile gaze fixed on her.

Marina plucked two cocktails from a passing waiter’s tray and handed one to Elaine.

“Who would’ve thought? After all the trouble Niamh caused you, she’s still riding high,” Marina sneered.

Elaine shot her a withering look, took a sip, then set her glass down.

“A woman like her—she only gets ahead by sleeping with men. One after another, she just hops from bed to bed. Absolutely filthy…” As she said this, Marina subtly switched her own glass—the one laced with acid—for Elaine’s.

“Sure, Daniel Kingsley isn’t exactly a saint, but at least he’s rich and powerful. If it weren’t for Niamh, you wouldn’t have had to divorce him. This whole mess has even dragged your family’s business down…”

“What exactly are you getting at?” Elaine snapped, her patience thinning.

Marina put on a look of wounded innocence. “I’m just saying, you deserve better. If someone stole my husband and ruined my reputation, left me with nothing, I wouldn’t let her get away with it. At the very least, I’d toss my drink right in her face—just for the satisfaction.”