Housewife 331
“I told him.. that you and I are together.”
Julian Neville’s eyes never left Niamh Rivers‘. Their gazes remained locked, a silent current passing between them.
He’d expected–no, he’d been certain–that after he said those words, he’d see something flare in her expression. Panic, maybe. Or anger. Or at the very least, blame. After all, what he’d just told Jonathan Thomas would only deepen the misunderstanding between Jonathan and Niamh.
And Niamh… well, Niamh loved Jonathan, deeply.
But her reaction was nothing like he’d imagined.
She was calm. Almost eerily so.
It caught Julian off guard, this cold composure.
“Yeah. You’re not wrong,” she murmured, her voice distant, as chilly as the sea breeze drifting in through the open window.
She was, at this moment, sitting here with Julian. He hadn’t lied.
Really, Niamh’s body hadn’t fully recovered yet. Though she was awake, she was still so weak–her face pale as parchment, lips nearly colorless.
To Julian, she looked utterly spent, as if nothing in the world could hurt her anymore–because she no longer had the strength to care.
“Niamh…”
Julian’s frown deepened. He felt as if he’d swallowed a piece of dry bread, stuck halfway down his throat–unable to cough it up or swallow it down.
“Could you… close the window a bit?” Niamh asked quietly.
“Oh–yeah, of course…”
He hurried to do as she asked. He’d opened the windows earlier only to air out this seaside villa, which had stood empty for so long, hoping a little fresh air might drive out the mustiness, make Niamh feel less stifled by the damp.
She was bundled up under a thick blanket, but it didn’t seem to help. No matter how many layers she wrapped around herself, warmth wouldn’t come.
The chill had seeped into her bones long ago–when she’d been tied up in that
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Chapter 331
abandoned warehouse, when Daniel Kingsley told her Jonathan had chosen Marina Thornton over her, when she’d thrown herself into the freezing, black sea, not knowing if she would live or die.
Those terrors and pains still haunted her body, lingering in every shiver. No blanket would ever be thick enough.
“Julian, do you really have no regrets?”
Her sudden question caught him off guard.
“What do you mean…?”
“Running away from your wedding.”
He looked at her, his eyes flickering with a hint of something–defiance, maybe, or guilt.
The Nevilles and the Frasers had always been bound by more than just family ties; there was business, reputation, connections. Julian had agreed to marry Susy Fraser, even though he’d never loved her, because it was expected of him–right up until the wedding day.
And now he’d run. Hiding out here wouldn’t be enough to fix things.
But Julian’s gaze never wavered. “I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”
Niamh’s breath caught. For a moment, she didn’t know what to feel.
She’d once loved Jonathan with the same reckless abandon–had run into his arms, married him, never looking back.
She didn’t regret her choices either.
But…
A faint, self–mocking smile touched her lips.
Julian stared, momentarily stunned by the sudden brightness of her smile. Pale as she was, that fragile, bittersweet curve of her mouth made her look heartbreakingly beautiful.
He found himself unable to look away.
After everything she’d been through, Niamh felt like she’d been given a second chance at life–a chance she’d never expected to get.
Her love for Jonathan… it was time to let it go. Time to leave it behind in that dark, icy sea, along with the engagement ring she’d lost to the waves.
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100
The Cathedral of Venus.
Inside, the priest, the choir, and guests who had traveled from all over sat waiting, growing restless.
No one was more anxious than the bride herself.
If it weren’t for the crowd watching her every move, Susy Fraser might have erupted
already.
Julian hadn’t shown up.
The time they’d agreed upon came and went. The hour for the ceremony arrived–and still, Julian was nowhere to be found.
An hour passed. Two. Still nothing.
In the front row, Marina sat beside Jonathan, whispering under her breath, “What’s going on with Julian? Who’s late to their own wedding? Do you think something happened to him?”
“He’s not coming,” Jonathan replied, his voice flat.
“What?” Marina turned to him, startled.
Jonathan didn’t elaborate. He only repeated, quietly,
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