His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 506

“Sorry…”

His voice was soft, almost apologetic.

But Niamh’s face remained icy cold, showing no sign she’d accepted his apology.

Blood was still trickling down his forehead, making Jonathan’s head swim.

“Could you… pass me a tissue?”

He didn’t really expect her to help as he said it.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, finally, a tissue appeared in front of him.

Jonathan looked at Niamh—one hand gripping a shard of glass, the other offering him a tissue. His feelings tangled inside him.

“Thank you…”

He pressed the tissue hard against his wound, eyes lingering on Niamh’s injured hand.

“You should let go of the glass. I’m not going to try anything again…”

He meant every word, but Niamh didn’t relax her grip. She didn’t believe him.

Jonathan’s heart sank.

“I know you didn’t hire anyone to… assault Marina.”

His voice was barely audible, more to himself than to her.

Looking at it rationally, Niamh had no reason to do such a thing. Someone who could orchestrate Marina’s financial ruin so precisely wouldn’t risk hiring thugs—especially not the kind who’d turn around and confess to the police.

But the assault on Marina was real. That couldn’t be denied.

It’s not like Marina arranged her own attack.

Jonathan’s thoughts were a mess.

When the police had called him to the warehouse, Marina’s clothes were torn to shreds, her body battered and bruised, her face swollen, and she was lying in filth.

He’d been furious then.

Especially when Marina told him her assailants were loan sharks.

If she hadn’t gone bankrupt, she never would have crossed paths with those men.

But in truth, the person Jonathan blamed most wasn’t Niamh.

It was himself.

He didn’t love Marina anymore. That was the plain truth.

But he’d never imagined that standing by, doing nothing, would lead to something this horrific.

Niamh shot him a glare.

Now, of all times, Jonathan’s eyes were brimming with concern for her.

Niamh almost laughed. Was this some kind of joke?

Why was her hand injured in the first place? Because Jonathan had tried to force himself on her.

And now, the man who’d hurt her was suddenly worried about her hand? Was he completely delusional?

“I’ll go to the hospital—but I’m not going with you.”

“Then who are you going with?”

Jonathan’s face turned cold again, the concern in his eyes replaced by suspicion.

“Elmer… Peter… Preston Winslow… There are plenty of people I could call, Mr. Thomas. Don’t trouble yourself.”

She had barely finished speaking when Jonathan stepped forward, swept her off her feet, and hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Jonathan!”

Niamh shouted, furious.

“I’m just taking you to the hospital. If you don’t want your neighbors talking about you all day tomorrow, you’d better cooperate.”