His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 41

When Lana and Julian arrived on the 77th floor, they immediately noticed that one of the guest room doors was wide open.

They rushed over, and—just as they suspected—they found Niamh inside.

She had already straightened her clothes and even brushed her hair again, but it was obvious to both Lana and Julian that something had gone down between her and Jonathan. The scattered rose petals littering the floor told its own story.

They had been worried about Niamh, which was why they'd called her in the first place. Niamh had said she was on the 77th floor but hadn't caught the room number.

Lana had put the call on speaker. Even though Niamh tried to sound normal, both Lana and Julian could tell something was off by the way her voice wavered.

"Nia, where's that lowlife Jonathan?" Lana asked, cracking her knuckles.

Niamh brushed it off with a casual, "He left... went to find Marina."

"Ugh, unbelievable!"

All the way down in the elevator, Lana kept cursing Jonathan under her breath. Niamh worried Julian might get annoyed, but he just grinned and said he loved hearing people talk trash about Jonathan—it was music to his ears.

That night, Lana didn't go home. Instead, she stayed over at Niamh's apartment to keep her company. Niamh insisted she'd be fine and didn't want her friend to stress over her like she was a helpless kid.

She admitted Jonathan had really shaken her up tonight, but she was an adult and needed to handle her own problems. Besides, Lana had work the next morning, and her place was a long way from here.

But Lana wouldn't take no for an answer, and Julian backed her up, saying Niamh should just let Lana stay. In the end, Niamh gave in.

Niamh's old apartment on Trinity Lane wasn't big—just a one-bedroom. There was only one bed.

"Sorry for the squeeze, Lana."

"Are you kidding? Sharing a bed with you? I wouldn't have it any other way."

Niamh couldn't help but laugh.

Even in the darkness, Lana could make out the wry smile on Niamh's face.

"He wasn't a jerk back then... actually, he was kind of amazing."

Niamh's mind wandered back to those days in the juvenile center, where she'd first seen Jonathan—proud, rebellious, but with a fierce sense of justice. Her wry smile softened, turning almost shy.

"Girl, you've got it bad. How old were you then?"

"Thirteen, maybe?"

"Yep, classic case of teenage love-brain," Lana teased.

Niamh didn't argue. She knew Lana was right—she'd always been a hopeless romantic. Otherwise, she wouldn't have spent three years as a stay-at-home wife, doing everything for Jonathan.

If she hadn't stumbled across that spreadsheet by accident, if Marina hadn't come back into their lives, she probably would've kept going, lost in the dream that Jonathan loved her, blind to everything else.