His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 540

Jonathan’s firm introduction snapped everyone back to that night at the Royal Victoria Cruises charity auction.

Back then, too, Jonathan had introduced Niamh as his wife—not his ex-wife.

The ones who had fanned the gossip, embellishing the story, had always been Sprague and Marigold.

Hayes had been ready to confront Jonathan about his supposed deception, but now he realized Jonathan hadn’t lied at all. From the very beginning, whenever he spoke to Hayes, Jonathan had always called Niamh his wife.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding this evening. I’m not here at Mr. Quinn’s invitation; I’m simply out on a date with my wife.”

Jonathan’s words were calm, his smile polite and unshaken. With a courteous “Enjoy your dinner, everyone,” he led Niamh away to the table he’d reserved in advance.

Sprague and Marigold looked positively sick. They stammered, unable to explain what had just unfolded to the Quinns.

But Hayes and Carlotta exchanged knowing glances, a shared smile curling at the corners of their mouths.

Across the table, Ramona dined with practiced grace, her face fixed in an elegant, almost mask-like smile. Occasionally, her eyes drifted to the next table, where Niamh and Jonathan sat together, and for just a second, the porcelain mask on her face seemed to crack.

Soft piano music drifted through Nimbus Summit, filling the air with warmth and ease.

Niamh rested her chin on one hand, gazing out the spotless window at the glittering city lights.

“You seem pretty happy tonight,” Jonathan remarked, his voice drawing her back from the nightscape.

“Mm-hmm…”

Of course she was happy—she didn’t have to grit her teeth through dinner with Hayes and Carlotta.

“You really don’t care for Mr. and Mrs. Quinn, do you?”

“Not even a little,” Niamh replied without hesitation.

“Is it… because of me?” Jonathan’s question was tentative. Niamh broke into a radiant smile, her teeth perfect and white.

“The staff won’t care about your side of the story.”

“So what? If they lock me up, just sneak me a piece of candy, all right?”

That day, Niamh had the best meal she’d ever tasted in that place, because the lunch lady, frightened but compliant, cooked the food fresh for them instead of dishing out the usual slop.

“Spicy stir-fry… crispy potatoes with vinegar…” Niamh murmured under her breath.

“What was that?” Jonathan looked up, not having caught her order.

Niamh gave a small, wry smile and shook her head. “Nothing. I’ll have the set menu, option C.”

She passed the menu back to him.

Tonight’s Jonathan was nothing like the Jonathan she remembered.