His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 517

Daniel Kingsley had said he’d wanted to kidnap Niamh Rivers as well, but she’d left with another man.

Later, when they finally managed to get through to Niamh’s phone, it was Julian Neville who answered. Naturally, Jonathan Thomas assumed that after the divorce, Niamh had gone straight to Julian.

But the truth was never as simple as he imagined.

“Wait… Was Niamh kidnapped too?”

Jonathan’s eyes widened in shock, muttering to himself. Julian just let out a cold, dismissive laugh.

“What difference does it make if she was kidnapped? It’s not like you’d have gone to save her anyway… Back then, wasn’t Marina Thornton the only one you saw?”

Jonathan’s glare shot straight at Julian, anger twisting his features.

But Julian only seemed more convinced that he’d hit a nerve.

“Come on, Jonathan. Don’t act like you were clueless back then, like you’re some kind of victim in all this. Every single time Niamh and Marina were in trouble together, you always picked Marina. Now what? Realize Marina was never good enough for you, so you regret it?”

As Julian’s words landed, it was as if a bolt of lightning struck Jonathan right in the skull.

He squeezed his eyes shut, rain streaming down his pale face.

So that’s what Julian thought of him. That’s what Niamh thought too.

It felt like someone had carved out a chunk of his chest, the ache so raw and brutal he could barely breathe.

He hadn’t always chosen Marina.

Every time he’d stepped in to help Marina, it was because she was his Rina—his first love.

He’d never intended to marry her, but for the sake of their past, he wanted to give her dignity, a decent ending.

And Niamh…

The pain was suffocating, dragging him down like he was sinking into quicksand, struggling in vain to claw his way out.

Suddenly, his phone rang, snapping him back to reality.

Julian was already gone, swallowed by the storm.

It was impossible to take a call in the torrential downpour, so Jonathan hurried back to his car, soaked and shivering. He hadn’t felt this lost, this pathetic, in a long time.

“…Hello?” he answered, barely masking the tremor in his voice.

On the other end, Prescott immediately picked up on the tension.

“Mr. Thomas, are you alright?”

“I don’t need your sympathy,” Jonathan snapped.

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