His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 471

Prescott’s words made every worker on site—including the foreman—nod in agreement.

It was the middle of the night, with thunder rolling and rain pouring down. If it weren’t for the fact that Jonathan was involved, and the order had come straight from higher up, none of them would have dragged themselves out of their warm beds to stand in this godforsaken construction site, getting drenched to the bone.

Jonathan stood silent for a moment, then signaled for the motionless bodyguards to bring over rain gear for everyone.

Next, he slid his own umbrella across to Prescott.

“Mr. Thomas?” Prescott prompted.

“I’ll be fine,” Jonathan replied tightly.

He stepped out into the rain, striding through the site again, his figure quickly getting soaked. His face was as cold and expressionless as ever, giving nothing away.

But as he walked, Jonathan’s pace picked up, so much so that even Prescott struggled to keep up with him. He could sense the tension radiating from Jonathan—the growing urgency, the mounting anxiety… and something that felt an awful lot like fear.

Prescott was worried too. By now, Niamh had been missing for almost a full day and night.

The moment word of Niamh’s disappearance got out, Elmer, Lana Guthrie, Peter, and Michael had all either joined the search themselves or sent people out to look everywhere she might have gone.

The only thing the surveillance footage showed was Niamh’s car leaving the creative complex—after that, the cameras had gone down in the storm. Repairs would take time, and even then, there was no guarantee the footage could be recovered.

Right now, the only real lead they had was this construction site.

But for Prescott, his top priority was Jonathan’s safety.

It was obvious that standing around in a thunderstorm, in the middle of a half-built site, was a terrible idea.

“Mr. Thomas…” Prescott tried again, following Jonathan as he headed for the rows of shipping containers stacked at the edge of the lot.

But these containers led nowhere—just a dead end.

Jonathan was soaked through, rain plastering his suit and shirt to his skin. Prescott’s heart twisted with concern. Even though Jonathan refused, he still reached up and held the umbrella over Jonathan’s head.

“Mr. Thomas, you need to head back. If you stay out here, you’re going to catch your death.”

Jonathan knew Prescott was right. There was no point in lingering. Even with every floodlight on, the downpour made it impossible to see much of anything.

Maybe… it was time to give up.

Maybe Niamh really wasn’t here.

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