His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 363

All eyes in the room settled on Niamh.

But Niamh saw only Elmer—her gaze fixed on him, even though tears blurred everything else.

Elmer approached her with calm, unhurried steps, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears.

“Why are you crying...?”

His voice was soft and soothing, like a gentle breeze or a stream of clear water.

The sound overlapped perfectly with the voice in Niamh’s memory.

Her heart thudded in her chest, beating so loudly she thought it might leap right out of her throat.

“Is it really… is it really you? Am I… am I dreaming?”

Even with the undeniable reality in front of her, she couldn’t believe it.

“It’s me.”

Elmer’s tone was as warm and refined as ever, but his answer left no room for doubt.

“Yes, Niamh. It’s me—Elmer.”

Before his words had even faded, Niamh threw her arms around him, holding him tight, as if she might never let go.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Marina and Susy stared, stunned.

Jonathan was thunderstruck.

If there was ever a moment that felt like being struck by lightning, this was it for Jonathan.

Niamh, right in front of him, had just embraced another man—willingly.

His hand, clenched in the pocket of his tailored trousers, dug so hard his nails left crescents in his palm. He was numb from the pain.

For a split second, Jonathan wondered if he was the one dreaming.

He’d imagined how Niamh might act after their divorce—maybe she’d struggle, too proud to ask for help, eventually coming to him with her head bowed. Or perhaps she’d pretend she didn’t care, showing off her independence.

But he had never, ever imagined her in another man’s arms—especially not in front of him.

He stepped forward.

But he didn’t interfere.

Or rather, before he could do anything, Niamh had already let Elmer go.

So he held back.

“Didn’t they say she only goes after rich heirs?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Like, for a hookup?”

A cluster of society women gossiped, their curiosity burning—until they glanced up and met Elmer’s gaze, standing close by.

Elmer was strikingly handsome, but in a way entirely different from Jonathan’s sharp, chiseled features. Where Jonathan looked like a leading man carved from marble, all intensity and bravado, Elmer had the refined, almost ethereal beauty of an artist’s muse—something classical, almost otherworldly.

If he were dressed in period costume, he’d be the kind of man poets wrote sonnets about.

Even in a modern white suit, that timeless grace lingered. He was the kind of man you could lose your heart to at first sight.

A flush crept up the women’s cheeks.

“Ladies,” Elmer said with calm authority, “spreading rumors without evidence is slander. You may not care about your own reputations, but I’m sure your husbands do.”

The women blanched, caught off guard.

Still, not everyone was so easily intimidated.

“And who are you, anyway? Just a pretty face. My husband’s the principal of Westfield High—”

Before she could finish, the mayor and the superintendent of schools approached Elmer.

“Dr. White is a leading AI expert recruited by our Aldonia government,” the mayor announced with a proud smile. “He’s here as my personal guest, and tonight’s gala is held in his honor.”