His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 477

Niamh’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw what Jonathan was holding.

“That keychain… How did you end up with it?”

Jonathan handed her a little rabbit-shaped keychain, woven from cheap plastic beads.

“I should be asking you that,” he replied.

Niamh hesitated, running a hand through her hair. “So this keychain really is yours?”

He nodded.

Her confusion deepened. The truth was, she’d found this pair of keychains by chance.

It happened back at the Nimbus Summit Restaurant, on the 126th floor of the Coralis Isabelline Tower. She’d noticed them on Jonathan’s table just after he left—two matching keychains that looked so cheap, like something a middle-schooler might buy from a dime store.

Niamh couldn’t quite believe they belonged to Jonathan. But there they were, right where he’d been sitting.

Curious, she’d picked them up and asked a server to make an announcement over the restaurant speakers, in case anyone had lost them. Nimbus Summit was the kind of place where people left designer sunglasses behind, not plastic trinkets, so it was no surprise that no one claimed them.

So she’d attached the little rabbits to her own keys. They weren’t worth anything, but she’d grown oddly fond of them.

“I thought I’d lost them for good,” she admitted.

“You did lose them. They ended up crushed under a shipping container,” Jonathan explained.

Her eyes went wide. “Wait—so that’s how you found me?”

He nodded again.

Niamh cupped the plastic rabbit in both hands, her emotions swirling.

“I never imagined…it was you who saved me.”

Jonathan saw the way she poured all her gratitude into the little trinket. He cleared his throat, almost gruffly: “Yes, it was me.”

He was looking right back, those dark eyes shining with a strange, deep light.

Niamh couldn’t convince herself that Jonathan didn’t care about her—not after everything. If he truly felt nothing, why had he risked everything for her? He’d done the same thing that time she was attacked by the fired Neovista Realty employee.

But Niamh had learned the hard way: it hurt to read too much into things. She’d been wrong before, and she wasn’t ready to be hurt again.

While Niamh and Jonathan exchanged a meaningful gaze, Prescott quietly slipped out into the adjoining nurse’s lounge.

But the walls were thin, and from the next room Prescott and the nurse could hear every word.

Just as Niamh softly called Jonathan’s name, his phone suddenly rang.

The first time, he declined the call. But the phone rang again, more insistently.

This time, he answered.

“Jonathan! Something’s happened!” The shout on the other end burst through the speaker, dousing the fragile hope Niamh had only just begun to feel.