His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 75

Niamh froze, caught off guard.

She hadn't expected Jonathan to bring up something personal at work.

"Jonathan, we've already—"

"We're not divorced yet. And don't tell me you've forgotten what Saturday is."

Jonathan didn't even bother to look up from his desk.

Of course Niamh remembered what Saturday was.

Clifford's seventieth birthday.

She didn't need Jonathan to explain; she knew exactly what he meant.

Every year on Clifford's birthday, his old friends and fellow veterans would gather at the house, and the one thing they always raved about was Niamh's cooking.

"Alright. I understand."

Jonathan gave a small, knowing smile—he'd known she wouldn't refuse when it came to his grandfather's birthday.

"That's all. You can go."

Niamh left Jonathan's office, her mind still tangled with conflicting emotions.

She'd made up her mind to divorce Jonathan, and yet here she was, still unable to break free from him, or from the Thomas family.

After work on Friday, she started getting ready to head out to Thomas Manor.

Clifford's seventieth was a big deal, both for the family and for her. She took it seriously.

During her lunch break, Niamh wrote out a menu. After work, she headed straight to the supermarket to pick up anything she could get in advance, saving the rest for the next morning's trip to the farmer's market.

With two heavy bags in each hand, she stood at the curb, waiting for a cab.

A sleek black Mercedes pulled up beside her.

The window rolled down, and just as she'd suspected, it was Jonathan.

The drive from downtown to the estate was long. The atmosphere in the car felt heavy and stifling, and Niamh found herself bored, unable to even distract herself with her phone.

Every so often, her gaze drifted toward Jonathan at the wheel.

He didn't say a word the entire way, as if he were a different person from the man who'd once laughed and joked with Marina in this very car.

Eventually, Niamh dozed off. When she woke, the car had come to a stop.

She realized there was a blanket draped over her—soft, thin wool in a dark charcoal color. She recognized it instantly.

She'd seen this blanket before, the same one that had mysteriously appeared over her during a lunchtime nap at her desk.

So this was Jonathan's blanket?

Her heart thudded faster.

But then she chided herself for reading too much into it. Maybe the company had handed out identical blankets to everyone.

She took a deep breath, pushed away her thoughts, and got out of the car.