His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 886

Marigold was just using him. As the sole heir to the Thomas family, he was her ticket to seizing more shares from Sprague. Money—that was all Marigold ever truly cared about. Sprague, on the other hand, did care about him, but only in one regard: his grades.

As Jonathan came to the stark realization that he was nothing more than a tool to his parents, he started down a rebellious path. Their already cold and distant family life began to fall apart. Sprague blamed Marigold, Marigold blamed Sprague, and they both blamed Jonathan. Finally, when Jonathan started middle school and became too difficult to control, they sent him to a juvenile rehabilitation center.

“I don't need to tell you what happened at the center. You probably remember it better than I do.” Jonathan’s usually dull eyes lit up, shining like jewels the moment he looked at Niamh. Niamh shrugged and smirked. “What do you mean, I remember it better than you? Are you saying you left an unforgettable impression on me, but I was so forgettable you can barely recall?”

Knowing she was teasing him, Jonathan chuckled and shook his head. “That's not what I meant… After I got out of the center, my parents took my phone and locked me up here…” Jonathan said, starting to walk towards the only building on the property. The place was surrounded by mountains and even had a waterfall. While beautiful, it was utterly remote and isolated—less a home and more a prison.

Niamh approached the old door of the villa and turned to Jonathan, her curiosity piqued. “They locked you up here? Why?” “Because when I got out of the center, not only was I not any more obedient, but I started demanding to find my girlfriend!” Jonathan’s gaze was filled with a playful smile, and Niamh quickly looked away, clearing her throat. She knew he was talking about her—about Rina.

“To mold me into a worthy successor for The Thomas Group, my parents imprisoned me here… for almost two years.” “Two years?” Niamh was stunned. “Yeah,” Jonathan nodded. “For two years, I couldn't take a single step outside this house. It was like being under house arrest. The entire property was surrounded by Thomas family bodyguards, and different tutors came every day to drill me… My father told me I could only leave once I completed their curriculum.”

Just hearing Jonathan’s description sent a chill down her spine; the sense of oppression and suffocation was palpable. She studied his chiseled profile. His expression remained placid, as if he’d made peace with the past, but his gem-like eyes held a much deeper shadow than before. “When I was locked up here, the academic pressure was immense… The only thing that kept me going… was you, Rina.”

Jonathan turned to face her. He reached out, his rough palm gently stroking her smooth cheek. Normally, Niamh would have pushed his hand away. But in that moment, she let him be. She sensed he needed this—this physical touch to confirm she was real. “Back then, I replayed our time at the center in my head countless times every day… And yet… your face started to fade.” Jonathan’s expression suddenly twisted in pain, as if something inside him had shattered. Niamh’s eyes widened. “I developed prosopagnosia.”