His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 487

Niamh found herself pinned hard against the wall, her shoulders aching beneath Jonathan’s iron grip. She met his gaze, catching the quiet, seething anger burning in his eyes.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d have died on that construction site,” he said, voice rough and low, each word scraping against her nerves. “And this is how you repay me?”

She’d known Jonathan wouldn’t let the emergency board meeting go unanswered. Anyone familiar with his temper could have predicted it. Niamh met his accusation with a cool stare.

“I already showed mercy,” she replied. “If I really meant to take you down, I would have rallied the other shareholders before calling for your removal. I might have succeeded, too.”

It was the truth, and Jonathan knew it. She hadn’t gone after him with the full weight she could have wielded. If anything, the real purpose of the meeting had been to curb his unchecked control over the company’s finances—not to unseat him. He wasn’t the real target.

He realized it, too. The one she meant to corner wasn’t Jonathan at all, but—

“Why do you have to take it this far?” he demanded, brows drawn tight. “Why are you so determined to drive Marina into a corner?”

His grip tightened painfully on her shoulder, but Niamh refused to flinch. She met his stare head-on, refusing to look away. She could see the reproach in his eyes, but beneath that—deeper, almost hidden—was guilt. Guilt, not for her, but for Marina.

She held his gaze in silence for a long moment before letting out a cold, mirthless laugh. “Maybe you should be asking your precious Marina these questions.”

“Niamh, it was Susy who tried to hurt you—”

The hatred that had been coiled in Niamh’s chest suddenly loosened, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. She hadn’t wanted to fight with Jonathan; arguments like this only made it seem like she still cared. But how could she not lose control, when he insisted, again and again, on defending Marina?

She remembered that night in the hospital, after Jonathan had left. Lying in her hospital bed, she’d stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep, wondering: Why did he keep saving her? If he didn’t love her, if he truly felt nothing—then why?

Eventually, she understood. Jonathan didn’t love her. Every time he intervened, every time he pulled her back from the brink, it was nothing more than his way of atoning for Marina’s sins—a form of compensation. He’d done it before, always under the guise of making amends for Marina.

Niamh was convinced: every time something happened to her, Marina was involved. Did she have proof? Not enough for the police, maybe. But unlike Jonathan, she refused to lie to herself just because there wasn’t evidence to wave around in court.

She chose to trust her instincts. She chose to trust the leads Carlisle had given her. When Carlisle told her he’d discovered a connection—Marina secretly in contact with Daniel Kingsley—Niamh knew, in that instant, who had helped Daniel orchestrate her kidnapping. Marina had been pulling the strings all along.