His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 310

By now, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Niamh and Jonathan’s divorce became official.

Still, for the moment, Niamh was technically his boss’s wife.

Having dinner alone with her didn’t sit entirely right with Prescott. But when she called, he could hear something in her voice—clearly, she needed his help with something.

As Jonathan’s most trusted assistant, Prescott had earned a certain reputation. People often tried to cozy up to him, hoping to use him to get closer to Jonathan and score some benefit in return. Because of that, he rarely accepted dinner invitations.

But Niamh was different.

Prescott couldn’t be sure of much, but he was certain of this: Niamh would never use him for her own gain.

In the end, he ordered two bowls of spicy hotpot—one picked at random for himself, the other based on Niamh’s recommendation. As it turned out, her pick was far better.

Prescott hadn’t enjoyed a meal this much in ages. There weren’t many good places for hotpot near The Thomas Group’s offices.

“I’ve finished eating,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “It’s time you told me what you wanted.”

He watched as Niamh reached down and handed him a large bag.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Herbal soup,” she replied.

The moment she said it, Prescott understood exactly what she was after. The soup was, without a doubt, meant for Jonathan.

He glanced down at the hefty bag in his hands. There was enough soup in there for days.

“One packet, three times a day. That’s a week’s supply. Take it with you when you head out to Blackspire next week,” Niamh instructed, her tone careful but firm.

Prescott didn’t understand Niamh. He didn’t understand Jonathan, either. For the life of him, he couldn’t see what made Marina so much more desirable in Jonathan’s eyes than Niamh.

“Actually…” Prescott started, but hesitated. Part of him wanted to say, *If you just told him the soup was from you, Mr. Thomas might actually be happy about it*. But he bit his tongue.

It would be careless to assume something like that; he had no idea how Jonathan would react. Even if Jonathan felt happy, he’d probably show the exact opposite on his face. That was just the kind of man he was.

Working for Jonathan always felt like walking on eggshells—but with the salary he got, Prescott had little room to complain.

He took the soup without another word.

Niamh smiled faintly, grateful that he hadn’t pressed her for an explanation.

She only had the strength to do this for one more week. After that, she and Jonathan would be nothing more than ex-wife and ex-husband.