Jonathan kept his head down, eyes fixed on the papers in front of him, and said with chilling indifference, “Marina isn’t Niamh. She’s not one to cause a scene for no reason.”
Just outside the office door, Niamh stood rooted to the spot, clutching a stack of folders to her chest like a lifeline.
She was an employee of The Thomas Group now.
Her new title was executive secretary, assisting Prescott–Jonathan’s special aide–with all the necessary tasks.
That had been Jonathan’s ultimatum last night, right there at the police station.
If Niamh quit her job at FY and joined The Thomas Group, he’d agree to settle things and keep Lana out of jail.
Lana had been adamant, insisting she’d rather spend the night in a cell than let Niamh sacrifice herself for her.
But Niamh had agreed without a moment’s hesitation.
Compared to Lana’s future, this was nothing–just a minor detour.
Niamh wasn’t even sure why she was lurking outside Jonathan’s office, eavesdropping like a guilty teenager.
She just couldn’t help herself.
What she truly didn’t understand was why Jonathan was so determined to have her work at The Thomas Group in the first place.
Marina was here too.
A wife and a mistress, working under the same roof–was this supposed to be some kind of twisted joke?
Niamh let out a bitter laugh.
Just then, Jonathan’s voice drifted out from the office again.
“Once she works under me, she’ll finally see just how easy she had it as a housewife.”
A chill ran down Niamh’s spine.
ལ་་པས་་ པ་
So that was the real reason…
The small, foolish hope she’d harbored inside her chest dissolved into bitter disappointment. She exhaled quietly.
She should have known better.
There was no way Jonathan wanted her here because he valued her skills.
Inside, Preston Winslow chimed in, echoing Jonathan’s words with a sneer that reeked of contempt for stay–at–home wives.
But only someone who had actually been one could understand the hidden hardships.
Someone like Niamh.
Back then, just to buy the freshest groceries, she’d get up at five every morning to reach the market before dawn.
Her mother–in–law insisted every meal be made from scratch, no leftovers allowed.
Breakfast had to be a full spread–at least four different dishes, plus a nourishing
soup.
Dinner was even more over–the–top. Maybe not a royal banquet, but at minimum, it had to feature fifty different ingredients.
It was just her and Jonathan at the table, yet more often than not, Jonathan would be out late for business dinners, never bothering to tell her, so she’d spend all day in the kitchen, only for him to come home and not eat a single bite.
She remembered, in those early days of marriage, her mother–in–law would drop by constantly–sometimes to check whether the walk–in closet was perfectly organized, other times to run a white glove over every surface for dust.
Niamh would race from dawn till dusk, barely stopping for a sip of water, even holding off on bathroom breaks until her legs ached.
But the worst part? No one ever acknowledged her efforts–like her work had no value at all.
“Give it time. Once that washed–up housewife realizes she can’t do anything right, she’ll crawl back home and play maid again.”
Preston’s laughter rang out, sharp and clear.
Jonathan merely let out a noncommittal hum.
2/3
20:06
Chapter 65
“What are you doing out here?”
A hand landed abruptly on Niamh’s shoulder, making her jump.
She turned and found herself face–to–face with Marina, all dazzling smiles and perfect makeup, though the hostility in her eyes was hard to miss.
“Niamh, Jonathan’s big on privacy, you know. You really shouldn’t be eavesdropping. I’m only telling you this for your own good.”
Niamh let out a cold chuckle.
“You seem to know my husband better than I do.”
Marina’s expression faltered for a moment, but her smile soon returned, sugary
sweet.
“What can I say? Jonathan’s always been closer to me.” She pushed open Jonathan’s office door without hesitation, then turned back to add, “This is a privilege Jonathan gave me–only I get to walk in without knocking. Don’t try it yourself, unless you want to get chewed out. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
