No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 121

Gavin hadn't even finished his sentence when Eleanor pushed open the conference room doors.

The crash echoed through the room.

Everyone inside turned in shock, startled by the sudden intrusion—especially Ian, seated at the head of the table, who stared at Eleanor in disbelief.

"Out. I need a word with you." Eleanor's furious gaze locked onto Ian.

The department heads exchanged bewildered glances, silently wondering who this young woman was—and where she found the nerve to speak to Ian like that.

"Who are you? Can't you see we're in a meeting?" The finance manager was the first to speak up, his tone sharp.

"That's right! Where's your sense of decorum? We're in the middle of something here." Another man in his early forties chimed in, frowning.

Eleanor shot them a cold look. "I'm his wife. I have something to discuss with him."

Her words sent a ripple of surprise through the room. The finance manager's face shifted instantly; forcing a nervous smile, he nodded at Ian. "Mr. Goodwin, we'll excuse ourselves." Then he turned to Eleanor, giving her an apologetic smile. "Mrs. Goodwin, pardon us."

The other manager followed suit, his smile awkward. "Sorry, Mrs. Goodwin."

One by one, the executives took the hint and filed out, each of them noting the stormy look on Mrs. Goodwin's face and realizing this was clearly a private matter between husband and wife.

"Couldn't this wait until we're home?" Ian arched an eyebrow, only mildly perturbed.

Eleanor slammed her palm on the table, voice trembling with anger. "Ian, why do you have the rights to my mother's donor sample? What did you do to get it from my father? You'd better have a good explanation."

Ian had a feeling this was coming—clearly, she and Joel had grown close.

"Joel told you, didn't he?" Ian's tone was icy, annoyance flickering across his face.

Fury pounded in Eleanor's veins. She clenched her jaw. "If Joel hadn't told me, were you ever planning to? Ian, you've gone too far. That was my mother's donation—you had no right to decide what to do with it."

Just then, Gavin opened the door again. "Mr. Goodwin, your video call with Mr. Harrison is starting."

Ian pulled a few tissues from a box on the table and handed them to Eleanor. "We'll talk later."

She slapped his hand away, her voice shaking with rage. "Get out."

Gavin flinched. In his eyes, Eleanor had always been the quiet, gentle type. He couldn't remember ever seeing her like this.

The tissues fluttered to the floor as Ian stood frozen for a moment, then finally strode out, his handsome features set in a mask of icy detachment.

In the hallway, he pulled out his phone and dialed Joel's number.

"Hello, Mr. Goodwin."

"Dr. Kingsley, in the future, I'd appreciate it if you kept our business between us. I don't need my wife getting the wrong idea." His tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument.