His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 279

The soft strains of violin music still drifted through Moonlight Terrace.

Jonathan sat alone at his table.

No one sat across from him.

His hair, his face, even his expensive custom-tailored suit were all soaked—someone had just thrown a drink in his face.

The woman responsible was long gone, having stormed out in fury.

Jonathan dabbed at his face with a handkerchief, expression unreadable, and resumed his meal as if nothing had happened.

Just then, his phone rang. Preston Winslow’s name flashed on the screen.

The Obsidian Tower—downstairs, at the bar.

As soon as Jonathan arrived, he spotted Marina at a table, a towering stack of whiskey glasses in front of her. Preston sat beside her, clearly trying to talk her down.

Not far away, Zachary and a group of friends—each with a date—were making a raucous scene, all laughter and mischief.

“Jonathan…” Preston was the first to notice him. He immediately stood, pulling Jonathan over to Marina’s side.

“Hey, Marina, Jonathan’s here—” Preston leaned in to murmur, only for Marina to shove him away.

“Don’t call me that! I’m not—your sister-in-law is Niamh! She’s Jonathan’s real wife, the one he married in front of everyone… Who am I? Just a fool who let herself get played… Some first love, some undying devotion…”

“You’ve had enough,” Jonathan said, trying to take her by the arm.

Marina yanked herself free. “Don’t touch me!”

Preston stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe.

He’d never seen Marina lash out at Jonathan like this before—but he understood. After all, today the internet had exploded with the news that Niamh was Jonathan’s wife. That left Marina in a painfully awkward position.

No wonder she’d come here to drown her sorrows.

“Don’t stop me! I’m not done drinking…” Marina was putting on a wild, drunken show—but it was all an act.

As she played her part, she kept sneaking glances at Jonathan, gauging his reaction.

His face was grim; he looked angry. But was it her antics that annoyed him, or something else?

“Now that the drinks are gone, let’s get you home,” Jonathan said.

“I’m not going home. I can’t go back… not like this…”

Her voice broke. Tears spilled down her cheeks like pearls from a broken strand.

Only then did Jonathan remember—Marina’s parents were staying at her place tonight. It wouldn’t do for her to come home in this state.

“Preston,” Jonathan said, “get us a room upstairs.”

“On it,” Preston replied, already heading off.

When he was gone, Jonathan helped Marina up the stairs. She pressed her face to his shoulder, lips curving in a secret smile.

Of all the bars in the city, she’d chosen this one for a reason—there was a hotel just upstairs, making it easy to book a room.

Inside, the lights flickered on, bathing the room in a warm glow.

Jonathan laid the tipsy Marina gently on the king-sized bed.