His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 338

Jonathan was waiting.

Across the table, Marina sat just as tense, holding her breath.

At last, Niamh’s voice floated from the phone pressed to his ear.

“I wanted to ask… After we get our divorce certificate notarized, will the Aldonian authorities issue us any kind of official divorce decree?”

Jonathan’s smile froze, and for a moment, a storm flashed in his eyes.

“There’s no divorce decree,” he replied, his voice clipped.

Niamh was taken aback.

Without warning, Jonathan’s tone turned icy cold, though she couldn’t imagine what she’d done to annoy him. If anyone was to blame for Aldenville City Hall’s lack of paperwork, it certainly wasn’t her.

“So if I go to city hall now, will I see the updated divorce records?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Their system’s slow. It could take a long time before they update anything.”

“…I see…”

Disappointment tinged Niamh’s voice.

Jonathan looked as grim as a burnt pan.

“Jonathan, your favorite wagyu beef’s ready!” a woman’s voice chimed in from the phone, jolting Niamh out of her thoughts.

She recognized the voice instantly—Marina.

There was only one barbecue place in Aldenville that served premium wagyu, and it was famous for its mouth-numbing, tear-inducing spice.

Niamh remembered back when she still worked for The Thomas Group—Jonathan had once accompanied Marina to that restaurant. The meal ended with Jonathan doubled over in pain, eventually rushed to the hospital with a bleeding ulcer.

She’d been the one to carry him down the stairs that night.

She also remembered the first time they’d met again after years apart—Jonathan had just been in a car accident, and she’d hauled him to the ambulance.

Whenever Jonathan’s life was on the line, she was the one who saved him.

But when she was kidnapped and trafficked, she’d had no one. She’d had to save herself.

The person Jonathan always rescued—

Was always Marina.

Beside her, Lana watched Niamh as she made the call to Jonathan, barely daring to chew the fried chicken in her mouth.

She didn’t know what had happened to Niamh in Blackspire, but ever since Niamh’s return, she seemed so much colder, like she’d shed an old skin.

“I didn’t—”

He hadn’t finished before Niamh ended the call.

Marina, noticing the darkening storm on Jonathan’s face, quickly poured him a glass of soda.

“Jonathan, don’t be upset. Come on, have some wagyu.”

He picked at the food, avoiding the spice as best he could, but his stomach only ached more with every bite.

Meanwhile, Niamh and Lana were halfway through a bottle of wine, tipsy but not quite drunk.

“Nia, are you really not going to let Julian or any of your so-called boyfriends help you out?” Lana teased.

Niamh rolled her eyes. “What boyfriends?”

Michael and Peter were hardly more than acquaintances, and they’d been caught up in this mess through no fault of their own.

As for Julian… she suspected he was in just as much trouble as she was.

“So what now? Are you going to declare your studio bankrupt? That place is your baby… Oh! I know!”

A sudden thought lit up Lana’s face.

“You could always stop paying Elmer White’s medical bills for now.”