His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 314

Jonathan managed a small smile.

“Alright, I got it.”

He downed the entire bowl of medicine, then handed the empty bowl back to Prescott.

“You can go now. And this month, your performance bonus is cut in half.”

Prescott froze, caught off guard, but didn’t argue. He simply took the bowl and left in silence.

Once the office door clicked shut behind him, Prescott stood in the hallway with his back to the glass, muttering softly to himself, “I’m really no good at lying…”

Back in the office, Jonathan felt a gentle warmth spreading through his stomach, easing the discomfort more than he’d expected.

Logically, the medicine shouldn’t have worked so quickly, but he couldn’t help but give credit to that bowl of herbal brew.

He picked up his phone, but before he could even open WhatsApp, the door swung open again.

Jonathan wasn’t surprised to see Marina. She was the only one with the privilege of entering his office without knocking.

“Jonathan, why does your office smell like medicine?”

“My stomach’s been acting up. Just finished my meds,” he replied.

Marina’s face filled with guilt. “It’s my fault. I should have made the medicine for you myself…”

Jonathan shook his head, seeing the remorse in her eyes. “It’s not your fault. I just didn’t want you to wear yourself out.”

She smiled, her face brightening. “I know you always worry about me.”

Though Marina wasn’t Jonathan’s wife—at least, not officially—she always acted as if she were, especially when it came to looking after him. Making his medicine was just one of the things she insisted on doing, until Jonathan put a stop to it, saying it was too much work for her.

“Jonathan, I actually brought you some snacks—freshly baked, all by me. There’s butter cookies, sweet taro puffs, and sponge cake.”

She lingered in his office for quite a while, feeding Jonathan five cookies before finally taking her leave.

After she was gone, Jonathan pushed the lunchbox aside. He hadn’t taken a single treat on his own.

Marina’s baking hadn’t changed. The taste was just as he remembered—just like in high school, when he thought every cookie she fed him was the best thing in the world.

But now… even though it was the exact same recipe, they no longer felt like the tastiest treats on earth.

Before the divorce drama began, Niamh had baked him cookies too. Hers were better than Marina’s.

Just like when it came to making herbal soup—no matter if the recipe was the same, only Niamh’s ever seemed to truly work.

“Everyone has their own gift, I guess…” Jonathan murmured to himself.

Niamh was simply made for a life that revolved around the warmth of kitchen and home.