The House Wife Had Secret Identities (Niamh Rivers and Jonathan) novel Chapter 103

After midnight, the bar might still be buzzing, but the deck was deserted–except for Niamh.

She’d come as agreed, and there was Jeffrey Lawson, waiting for her.

Yes, that Jeffrey from Sales.

He’d added her on WhatsApp earlier, using the excuse that he’d snapped a few photos of her while they were sightseeing ashore and wanted to send them over.

Niamh suspected that sending photos was just his pretext.

They’d exchanged a few half–hearted messages, and then he suggested meeting on the deck to enjoy the ocean view together.

She’d turned him down three times. Then he tried a video call, and in the end, she

relented.

“Is there something you really need to talk to me about?” Niamh asked bluntly.

Jeffrey had that wholesome, almost dopey look, his smile just as guileless.

“Niamh, I’ve actually noticed you for a long time at the company.”

The line sounded suspiciously like a confession, and Niamh braced herself.

“I know… I can’t compare to Mr. Thomas…”

The moment Jonathan’s name left his lips, Niamh’s expression darkened.

“But next month, I’ll be promoted to manager. With bonuses, that’s about sixty grand a month. More than enough to take care of you.”

Niamh blinked, utterly bewildered.

By the cabin entrance, Marina had come out to look for Niamh, surprised to spot her standing with Jeffrey on the deck.

“Mr. Thomas and Marina getting married is just a matter of time. You should start thinking about your own future. Me, I’ve got a good temper, don’t hit women, no nasty habits. If you say yes to being with me, I’ll give you at least fifteen grand a month for spending money…”

The more Jeffrey talked, the more Niamh realized something was off.

This wasn’t a confession–it sounded more like a negotiation.

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“So, you’re already married?” she asked.

“That old witch and I have been separated for ages,” Jeffrey replied, as if it were nothing.

Niamh actually let out a short, incredulous laugh.

So Jeffrey wasn’t interested in her out of affection–he’d heard the office rumor that she was Jonathan’s mistress and figured he could get in on the action.

When Niamh turned to leave, Jeffrey panicked and grabbed her arm, upping the

offer.

“Twenty grand! Twenty grand a month, how about that?”

Niamh yanked her arm free.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Niamh. Who else would want leftovers like you?” Jeffrey’s voice chased her down the hall as she stormed off, cheeks burning with fury. She barely slept a wink that night.

Five days and four nights on this cruise, and not only had Niamh missed out on any real fun, but she felt more mired in drama than ever.

The first day back at work after the retreat, she’d barely had a chance to settle in when a stranger strode straight toward her desk.

“Excuse me, are you-”

Before Niamh could finish, the woman slapped her hard across the face.

“You tramp! How dare you seduce my husband!” the woman shrieked, lunging at Niamh and grabbing a fistful of her hair.

It clicked–this must be Jeffrey’s wife.

It was a misunderstanding, of course, but the woman was in no mood for explanations. Niamh didn’t bother being polite; she shoved the woman away and slapped her right back.

Apparently, the wife hadn’t expected the “other woman” to fight back. She collapsed on the floor, wailing, alternating between cursing Jeffrey and hurling insults at

Niamh.

Security soon escorted her out, but the damage was done. The story was all over the company in minutes.

One side of Niamh’s face stung from the slap, the other burned under the gossip

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and sideways glances from her colleagues.

The entire Design Division was abuzz, the spectacle drawing in staff from every department, until Jonathan finally appeared.

“Come with me,” he said to Niamh.

His face was unreadable as ever, his eyes just as cold.

With her swollen cheek, Niamh followed Jonathan through the gauntlet of staring

coworkers.

Marina remained hidden in the crowd until Jayne found her.

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