His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 301

Niamh could tell Jonathan had misunderstood the nature of her relationship with Nestor.

But she didn’t bother to clear things up.

It wasn’t that she wanted Jonathan to keep thinking the worst, nor was she trying to make him jealous. The truth was, her family ties to Nestor were complicated—explaining them would mean digging up a past she’d rather keep buried.

Ever since she’d been forced to change her name and start over, she’d resolved to be Niamh, and Niamh alone.

Now, standing in the hallway with Jonathan, neither of them said a word. The silence stretched between them until, at last, Sprague and Marigold excused themselves to the family lounge for a break. It was finally Niamh’s chance to visit Clifford in his room.

Jonathan didn’t try to stop her, nor did he follow her inside.

So Niamh sat alone at Clifford’s bedside, looking at the worn, drawn lines of his face.

“Grandpa, I’m so sorry…” Her voice trembled, thick with tears, her eyes red and raw.

Thank God the surgery had gone well. If something had happened to Clifford—if she’d lost him—she would never have forgiven herself.

She stayed by his side the entire night, keeping vigil until dawn, too anxious to sleep.

Sprague and Marigold managed to get a little rest, enough to recover their strength. When they returned and found Niamh still at Clifford’s side, they promptly shooed her out.

That was when Clifford finally woke up.

“Nia…”

The old man’s eyes had barely fluttered open before he called her name, prompting Marigold to roll her eyes.

“Your favorite granddaughter-in-law nearly scared you to death, and she’s still the one you ask for…” Marigold muttered under her breath, earning a sharp look from Sprague.

Clifford had just come back from the brink; the last thing he needed was Marigold’s sharp tongue making things worse.

Blinking, Clifford gazed around the spacious hospital room. “Where’s Nia?”

“Nia…”

Clifford lay in bed, struggling to reach out to her.

She saw the deep apology in his eyes, and the ache of concern he felt for her.

Niamh’s nose prickled, and she crossed to him, sitting down at his side.

“It’s Jonathan who’s wronged you… It’s all of us—the Thomas family owes you, Nia…” Clifford’s voice was hoarse.

Niamh shook her head gently. “Don’t, Grandpa. What matters now is that you get better.”

Clifford nodded, letting the subject drop, but Niamh could tell he hadn’t truly let it go.

He’d always dreamed of holding a great-grandchild in his arms. Never in a million years would he have believed that the child he’d longed for was lost—taken by the very grandson he loved most.