His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 83

This time, Niamh finally caught a smile on Jonathan's face—but it was laced with mockery.

"I wasn't trying to win over your grandfather…"

"Oh? Then that McDonald Stradivarius—wasn't that a gift from you?"

"I…"

Before Niamh could finish, Jonathan seized her wrist in a sudden, bruising grip.

"That violin is worth at least several million, Niamh. Where did you get that kind of money? What else aren't you telling me?"

Niamh felt like his fingers might crush her bones. With her seatbelt still fastened, it was impossible to struggle free.

"Jonathan, you're hurting me."

Before she could wriggle out of his grasp, Jonathan released his own seatbelt and leaned over, trapping her in place.

His low, velvety voice slithered against her ear like a serpent's tongue. "I could hurt you a lot more than this. Want to find out?"

Panic surged in Niamh as she tried to push him away. The more she resisted, the rougher Jonathan became, pinning her down with even greater force.

She had no idea why Jonathan was acting so unhinged.

The two of them grappled, neither willing to back down.

In the struggle, Niamh bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic tang filling her own mouth as well.

Just then, a shrill honk shattered the tension.

A sleek, cherry-red Ferrari had pulled up beside Jonathan's black Maybach, its presence impossible to ignore.

Jonathan knew exactly whose car it was.

With no shame whatsoever, he rolled down the passenger window. As expected, Julian was behind the wheel of the Ferrari.

Julian's eyes widened at the sight of Jonathan pinning Niamh down. The two were far too close, and from the look of things—Niamh's disheveled hair, her rumpled clothes—they appeared disturbingly intimate.

Niamh could hardly believe Julian would show up here, of all places.

She shoved Jonathan away, fumbling with her seatbelt, desperate to get out of the car.

But the door wouldn't budge—it was locked.

Meanwhile, Jonathan, now back in the driver's seat, calmly unlocked the doors and pulled out his phone, dialing Prescott's number.

Julian couldn't help but laugh. He knew Niamh was too sharp to believe that—this area was deserted, and unless you were taking a driving test, there was no reason to be out here at this hour.

So he decided to tell her the truth.

He'd heard from Lana that Niamh was coming back to Thomas Manor today. Worried she might be bullied, he'd spent the whole evening—since six o'clock—driving around nearby, hoping he might "bump into" her.

Niamh's heart warmed at his confession.

"Thank you… I don't know what I would've done tonight if you hadn't shown up."

Who knew what Jonathan might have done to her otherwise?

Julian drove her all the way home, pulling up at her doorstep but making no move to leave.

"Is there something else?" Niamh asked, breaking the silence.

Julian rubbed the back of his neck, his face turning a deep shade of red. "I… it's nothing, really. It's just… if you'd like, I could stay with you tonight…"

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw Niamh's expression shift.

"No, no, it's not like that!" Julian stammered. "It's just—Jonathan. I'm worried he might come back to bother you…"