His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 872

Jonathan emphasized the last word.

“They say blood is thicker than water… Since we’re family, why are you pushing me into a corner like this? No, let me rephrase—why are you so obsessed with killing Niamh? Is it because you're secretly in love with your dear older brother, and you see her as a rival?”

The question was so absurd that Joker burst out laughing, doubling over.

From the gallery above, the gang lieutenants chuckled as well.

“Still in the mood for jokes at a time like this… Mr. Thomas truly is a titan of industry. The man has nerves of steel!”

“Well, he’s seen his fair share of high-stakes situations!”

Jonathan ignored the peanut gallery on the viewing platform. His eyes remained fixed on Joker.

“I want you to answer me. What makes you so determined to do this to your own brother?” As Jonathan spoke, his finger, which had been resting on the trigger, suddenly squeezed.

Click!

Niamh flinched, completely unprepared for the sudden action. The gun didn't fire; it was another empty chamber. She clutched her chest, letting out a long, shaky breath.

Jonathan spoke again, his gaze still locked on Joker. “Was Eleanor Kane cruel to you?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw Joker’s smug, confident expression falter. His eyes became like the dark, empty barrels of the revolver, devoid of any light. He seemed to be looking at Jonathan, but his gaze was distant, as if he were looking through him at someone else. At the mother they shared—Eleanor Kane.

Joker was so lost in the memory that he didn't even notice when Jonathan held the revolver out to him. By the time he snapped out of it, Jonathan had been standing there for some time.

He could see that Jonathan and Niamh hadn't given up hope. They still thought they had a chance to win, because they believed in luck.

However… Russian Roulette was never a game of luck.

Joker was an assassin. From the very beginning, the outcome of this game was entirely under his control. The exact chamber where the single bullet was placed, the speed and number of times the cylinder spun, even his decision to take the first shot himself—it was all meticulously calculated. From the moment Jonathan agreed to play by his rules, Niamh’s death was a foregone conclusion.

The thought that his long-held wish was about to be fulfilled sent a wave of excitement through him, more intense than he could have imagined. Still, he forced himself to remain calm, raising the gun steadily to his temple.

The next round… when it was Jonathan’s turn to shoot Niamh… that would be the live one.

Smiling, Joker pulled the trigger.