His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 30

Marina's face flushed an ugly shade of red, and Julian couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Mr. Neville, my wife and I need to talk privately. I'd appreciate it if you, as a guest, could step out for a moment," Jonathan said, his tone leaving little room for argument.

Julian bristled at being dismissed, but he knew Jonathan was right—he wasn't family. With a reluctant glance at Niamh, he left the room.

What struck Niamh was that Jonathan insisted only outsiders leave, yet he never told Marina to go.

Now, only Niamh, Jonathan, and Marina remained in the hospital room.

"I've handed in your resignation at the Youth Rehabilitation Center," Jonathan announced, his voice full of self-righteous authority.

Niamh stared at him, wide-eyed. "Excuse me? And what gave you the right?"

"I'm your husband. Legally, that's all the right I need."

Niamh fell silent, momentarily lost for words.

"You've only been working a few days and already the police and the hospital have both been calling. Clearly, you're not cut out for public work. You're better off running the household, and I'll make sure you're well provided for—"

"Jonathan, I've already asked you for a divorce," Niamh snapped, cutting him off, her jaw clenched.

"And I haven't agreed," he replied flatly, his tone unyielding.

Standing to the side, Marina twisted the hem of her pink dress, leaving deep creases in the fabric.

The conversation, like so many before, ended on a sour note. Niamh felt as if she'd mustered all her strength to throw a punch, only to have it land on a pillow—utterly ineffective.

As Jonathan was leaving, he turned back. "If you don't like pink roses, you can tell me ahead of time. Next time, I'll have Prescott bring something else."

Outside the hospital, Marina watched as Jonathan pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He hadn't smoked inside, so he'd clearly been waiting.

She knew Jonathan wasn't a heavy smoker—he only reached for a cigarette when he was truly agitated.

But Niamh paid on her own phone, and from the look on her face, Julian could tell she wasn't spending Thomas family money.

He was curious, but he didn't ask. If Niamh didn't want to talk about it, it wasn't his place to pry.

After leaving the detective agency, Niamh felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Come on—what do you want to eat? Lunch is on me," Julian said cheerfully.

Niamh shook her head. "You came all this way just to keep me company. The least I can do is treat you."

"No way. Remember that sushi place the other day? I was supposed to pay, but you beat me to it. I owe you one."

Niamh couldn't help but laugh—Julian's delayed reactions were almost endearing.

As they strolled along the street, scanning for a good place to eat, Niamh's phone suddenly rang.