His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 267

Marina knew Elaine all too well.

Elaine was Daniel’s ex-wife. Back when rumors broke out about Niamh sleeping with Daniel, Elaine hadn’t hesitated for a second—she’d gone straight to confront Niamh and make her life miserable.

Later, when Daniel was sent to prison, Elaine divorced him. But the scandal still cast a long shadow over her family, dragging Elaine’s own business down with it.

So it stood to reason: Elaine must utterly despise Niamh.

As Marina expected, a little provocation was all it took. Elaine seized her cocktail glass and, heels clicking furiously, strode straight toward Niamh.

At that moment, Niamh had just finished a dance with Peter and was standing alone by the dessert table, picking out something sweet.

Marina quietly slipped away, but she kept a close eye on what was about to unfold.

That drink in Elaine’s hand? Marina had switched it herself. It was laced with acid.

If Elaine splashed it into Niamh’s face, her beauty would be ruined for good.

After that, not just Jonathan—no man on earth would ever want Niamh again.

She’d lose everything: love, career, her future.

Marina watched Elaine approach Niamh, a satisfied smile curling on her lips.

Niamh heard the sharp staccato of approaching heels—unmistakably aimed at her—and finally looked up.

She didn’t even have time to make out who it was. A glass of liquor hurtled straight at her face.

Niamh’s eyes widened in shock; she couldn’t react fast enough. Suddenly, a figure darted between her and the oncoming drink.

Ssshhhh!

The harsh, chemical sizzle of acid drew everyone’s attention.

Elaine, smug and certain she’d finally gotten her revenge, could only stare in disbelief—the drink had missed Niamh entirely and struck Jonathan instead. Even more shocking, the acid was eating through his suit jacket, sending up tendrils of white smoke.

With a clatter, Elaine dropped the glass and bolted, panic overtaking her.

Hidden in the crowd, Marina was stunned.

She’d never imagined Elaine would botch something as simple as throwing a drink.

What truly floored her, though, was Jonathan stepping in to shield Niamh.

Outside, Niamh tried to flag down a cab, intent on getting Jonathan to the hospital, but Jonathan told her he had a car.

Niamh stared at him in disbelief. This was Solterra, not Aldonia.

But Jonathan hadn’t lied. The event organizers had arranged a car and chauffeur just for him.

Only then did Niamh realize just how different their worlds were.

Once inside Jonathan’s car, it was clear—the driver took orders only from Jonathan, not her.

So, instead of heading to the hospital, they ended up back at the hotel.

The presidential suite was enormous, luxurious, equipped with everything imaginable.

It didn’t look like accommodations for a jewelry fashion week guest—it looked like a vacation retreat.

“There’s a first aid kit in the cabinet over there,” Jonathan said, sinking onto the couch.

Niamh rummaged through the cabinets, found the kit, and set to work treating the burns on Jonathan’s arm.