No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 18

"Mom, can you peel the shrimp for me?" Evelyn's eyes sparkled with longing as she eyed the platter of glazed jumbo shrimp.

Eleanor smiled. "Of course, sweetheart. Let me do it for you."

She peeled five shrimp and set them on Evelyn's plate before getting up to wash her hands. Across the table, Ian's chewing slowed, his gaze following Eleanor as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Dad, I'll share one with you!" Evelyn, ever thoughtful, picked up a peeled shrimp and dropped it into her father's bowl.

"No need, honey. You eat it," Ian replied softly, placing the shrimp back on her plate.

When Eleanor returned, hands clean, she sat gracefully and continued eating, her attention never straying far from her daughter.

Evelyn blinked her big eyes and asked, "Mom, do you not like Daddy anymore?"

Eleanor smiled, a bit absent. "Of course I do."

"Then why don't you peel shrimp for him? You used to," Evelyn pressed, her almost five-year-old mind always saying exactly what she was thinking.

Eleanor ruffled her daughter's hair, still smiling. "My hands are tired from all that peeling."

"Oh! Let me see." Evelyn reached for her mother's hands.

Eleanor held out her fingers—no cuts, no redness—yet Evelyn gently blew on them as if to soothe them. The gesture softened Eleanor's eyes, and under the warm light, she looked radiant and lovely.

"You're such a sweet girl," Eleanor praised.

Across from them, Ian set down his fork and left the table first.

That night, after bathing her daughter, Eleanor moved Princess, Evelyn's little puppy, into her bedroom. The two little ones played for a bit before drifting off to sleep.

Soft lamplight filled the room as Eleanor sat quietly, watching her daughter's peaceful face. Just then, Ian walked in, fresh from a shower, draped in a black robe with the collar open, exposing the sculpted muscles of his chest—a sight that once might have made her heart skip, but not anymore.

Eleanor glanced at him, detached. She realized that, now, even if this man stood naked before her, she felt nothing.

Ian leaned down and kissed Evelyn's forehead. As he did, Eleanor noticed a new tattoo on his chest—simple black letters: W.Y.

Obvious enough—it was Vanessa's initials.

As Ian pulled his hand away from Evelyn's hair, his fingers, whether by accident or intention, brushed lightly across Eleanor's cheek.

"Mom, can you bring Princess when you pick me up?" Evelyn hated leaving her puppy behind.

"Of course, I'll bring her to meet you," Eleanor promised.

At nine, Eleanor drove out to meet her friend Joy.

At the law office, after listening carefully, Joy sighed. "Are you sure you want a divorce? Women would kill for your life right now."

"If someone else wants it, they can have it," Eleanor replied calmly.

"You'd really give up being the wife of a billionaire? A title most women only dream of?"

"I'd give up everything—except my daughter," Eleanor said, her expression serene.

"And Ian? You're willing to let him go, too?" Joy's tone turned teasing.

"A man who can't stay faithful? I wouldn't take him back if he were handed to me on a silver platter."

"Still, you should know—this won't be an easy case," Joy warned. "Unless you catch them in the act, Ian won't give up custody so easily. You've been a stay-at-home mom for five years, no real income, no power or influence. How are you planning to fight for Evelyn?"