His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 474

“Thank you, Elmer…”

A faint smile flickered on Niamh’s pale face.

But Elmer couldn’t bring himself to smile back. The usual warmth and elegance in his features was clouded by a hint of frustration and unease.

“It was Jonathan who saved you,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Niamh replied.

Her calm answer caught Elmer off guard.

“But you and Lana stayed up all night for me. I should thank you, too.”

Elmer looked at Niamh, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn’t wanted her to think he was the one who rescued her. He didn’t want to take credit for what Jonathan had done; it would have felt like stealing something precious from him.

Yet, at the same time, he dreaded the possibility that Niamh’s old feelings for Jonathan might resurface. The contradiction left Elmer paralyzed, unsure of what to say or do.

He never expected Niamh would already know it was Jonathan who’d come to her aid. After all, she’d been barely conscious at the time.

But Niamh knew Jonathan’s warmth, the feel of his arms, the scent of him. They’d once shared the same bed for three years. Once, she’d loved Jonathan so deeply…

“Elmer, I’m a little tired. I think I’d like to sleep for a while…”

“Of course,” he murmured.

Elmer gently tucked the blanket around her shoulders, sensing that she wanted him to leave, though she couldn’t quite say it out loud.

Once he’d gone, the hospital room felt emptier than ever—silent and still.

Niamh curled up beneath the covers, restless and tangled in her own thoughts.

Why… why was it Jonathan again?

After leaving the hospital, Elmer stopped by the local police station, while Michael reached out to some friends from his old crowd, looking to “have a word” with Mr. York. But word came back: Jonathan’s people had already taken York.

“He moves fast, doesn’t he?” Michael muttered, twisting the custom ring Niamh had made for him around his finger.

In a dark, windowless room, Mr. York was tied to a small chair, battered and barely conscious, his face a mess of bruises and blood.

“Jonathan, you can’t do this, you can’t take the law into your own hands—I’m innocent—let me go, I’ll call the police—” York gasped.

Jonathan sat across from him, comfortably settled in a leather chair. The smile that always played at the corners of his mouth now looked cold as ice; the brighter it shone, the more it sent a chill down the spine.

“Innocent, are you?” Jonathan’s arms were crossed over his chest.

“Jasper York, your site was shut down yesterday because of the weather. There was no work scheduled—so why did you tell Niamh you’d be there for an inspection?”

As Jonathan’s voice cut through the silence, Jasper’s battered body trembled, blood trickling down his face.