His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 771

After Prescott left, the living room fell silent, the air as thick and still as wet cement. Even Marlin, usually a chatterbox, was quiet, playing by himself. Jonathan made two cups of coffee and handed one to Niamh. Niamh took a sip and turned to him. "Jonathan, do you have some kind of history with The Vipers' Nest?" Jonathan paused. "Why do you ask?"

"Because..." Niamh hesitated, but then told Jonathan everything about her and Lana's encounter with Joker at the hospital two years ago. "If I'm right... that night, Joker wasn't there for me. He was there to see you." Jonathan stared at Niamh, silent. It wasn't that he doubted her; in fact, her theory made a disturbing amount of sense.

A professional killer like Joker could have easily taken Niamh out that night in the hospital. If he'd really wanted her dead, she wouldn't have survived. An involuntary shiver ran down Jonathan's spine. He couldn't believe something like this had happened to Niamh while he was in a coma. If Joker's true target hadn't been someone else, she would have been long dead—not faking her death, but actually murdered.

Niamh was startled when Jonathan suddenly grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly as if afraid she would disappear if he let go. She realized he was terrified by the thought of what could have happened. Thinking back to that encounter, she felt a chill of delayed fear herself. She let him hold her hand for a moment before gently pulling it away. The sudden emptiness in his palm brought a flicker of disappointment to Jonathan's eyes.

"Don't worry, Joker's target wasn't me..." Niamh tried to reassure him, but Jonathan just shook his head. "No, his target is you. The only reason he hasn't made a move these past two years is because everyone thought you were dead." "If Joker finds out you're still alive..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. Niamh knew exactly what he meant. From the moment she came to Coralis, she knew her faked death couldn't stay a secret forever.

"Joker said he had to kill me in front of you... He wants to use my death to hurt you. Think hard. Do you have some kind of feud with him?" Niamh watched Jonathan's brow furrow in deep thought, but the confused look in his eyes told her he had no idea.

Two days later, a sudden storm descended. The entire Blackwood Mountain was obscured by the torrential rain, a mere shadow of itself. That night, something major happened at the Quinn family's private residence on the summit. Dozens of bodyguards were either knocked unconscious or drugged. By the time Ramona got the news, Hayes and Carlotta, who had been under house arrest inside, were long gone.

In one of the most expensive high-rises in downtown Imperial City, on the 17th floor, Hayes and Carlotta saw Niamh and stared, utterly dumbfounded. "Rina... you... you're alive..." Hayes's face was a mask of pure disbelief. Beside him, Carlotta was already sobbing uncontrollably. Two years ago, when they heard about Niamh's plane crash, Carlotta had fainted on the spot.

Carlotta never had much of a voice in the Quinn family. In fact, when the patriarch was alive, no one really did. Coupled with the family's superstitious leanings and a difficult childbirth, she had come to believe what the old fortune teller, Mr. Harley, had said—that Niamh was a harbinger of bad luck.