His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 698

Niamh noticed a pharmacy on the side of the road. Her intuition screamed that Jonathan's chronic stomach problems were flaring up again. Her hands tightened involuntarily on the steering wheel. "...Hello, Prescott?" Prescott sounded surprised to hear her voice on the other end of the line. "It's me, Miss Rivers." "I saw a Koenigsegg near the 7-Eleven on Maple Road. I think it's Jonathan's." Niamh left it at that, confident Prescott would know what to do. After hanging up, she let out a long breath. If Jonathan really was having a medical issue, at least she'd called Prescott. She hadn't just left him for dead, had she?

Niamh drove the thoroughly intoxicated Lana home and made sure she was settled before leaving. By the time she left, the sky was completely dark, and the roads were noticeably emptier. She was supposed to be heading home, but before she knew it, she had turned onto Anson Road again. The eye-catching Koenigsegg was still parked in front of the 7-Eleven, its hazard lights still flashing. Niamh stomped on the gas, and her white BMW 3 Series sped past the deep gray supercar before screeching to a halt.

Inside the car, Jonathan was slumped in the driver's seat, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other pressed hard against his stomach. His face was beaded with sweat from the pain. The passenger door opened, and someone touched his arm. "I told you to leave me alone!" He snapped his head around, and a beautiful, delicate face came into view. The drunken haze in his eyes cleared instantly. Jonathan froze. He thought the alcohol was making him hallucinate.

At first, Niamh didn't understand why he was so hostile. But when their eyes met, the surprise in his told her everything. He hadn't known she was there. His harsh tone had likely been meant for Prescott. Given Prescott's efficiency, it was impossible that he wouldn't have found Jonathan long after her call. That meant Prescott had found him, but Jonathan had almost certainly sent him away. Niamh met his gaze, the strong smell of alcohol in the car making her nose wrinkle. "Jonathan… are you drunk driving?" Seeing Niamh's frown, Jonathan immediately looked away, a clear sense of guilt on his face.

When he heard the car door slam shut, a wave of regret washed over him. If he hadn't been driving drunk, would she have been so upset with him? The stabbing pain in his stomach intensified, and for a moment, he thought it might be better to just let the pain kill him. Just then, Niamh returned. The utter astonishment in Jonathan's eyes confused her.

"Do you really think I'm the kind of person who would just leave you to die?" she muttered, opening the stomach medicine she had just bought at the pharmacy. Jonathan watched her, his heart in turmoil as she sat in the passenger seat and opened the medicine box. "Didn't you… want to leave me here…" he managed to ask, his voice strained. Niamh's hands paused. "When did I ever say that?" "Because you drove away…" There was a hint of accusation in his tone, and Niamh couldn't help but smile faintly. "So you did see my car."

"...Yeah…" Jonathan nodded slowly. At first, he'd thought he was mistaken. A white BMW 3 Series was far too common. It didn't have to be Niamh's. But then Prescott had found him and told him that Niamh had been the one to call. That's when Jonathan realized—Niamh had deliberately abandoned him.