No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 319

Eleanor’s gaze drifted almost instinctively toward the man at the table across from her. Ian was deep in conversation with his guest, but as if sensing her eyes on him, he glanced in her direction. Eleanor quickly looked away.

After lunch, Mr. Mansfield Ellington offered to drive Mrs. Whitmore home, and Mildred used the opportunity to nudge Eleanor and Mansfield together.

“Mansfield, why don’t you take Eleanor out for coffee? Or maybe a walk? I need my afternoon nap,” Mildred announced with a sly smile.

“Of course, Grandma. Enjoy your rest!” Mansfield replied.

Mildred turned to Eleanor with a warm invitation. “Next time, bring your daughter over to visit. I’d love to meet her.”

“I’d like that. Thank you, Mildred,” Eleanor answered politely.

Once outside with Mansfield, Eleanor hesitated. “Are you busy? If you have work, I—”

“I’m not busy,” he cut in, reassuringly.

Just as the words left his mouth, Eleanor’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen—Callie. “Excuse me, I need to take this,” she said.

Mansfield nodded, stepping aside while she answered. Eleanor listened for a few moments, her expression growing grave. Mansfield watched her with concern.

When she hung up, Eleanor turned to him. “I have to get to the lab. Something’s come up. Rain check?”

“I’ll drive you,” Mansfield offered at once.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble. Honestly, I’ve got nothing else on my plate,” he said with an easy smile.

Eleanor didn’t argue. During the drive, she buried herself in her phone, scrolling through articles and reports, barely saying a word.

At the workstation, she focused intently, blocking out everything else.

With only ten days left before the holidays, Eleanor had poured three days and nights into this project—only going home in the evenings to be with her daughter.

On the fourth morning, the harsh reality was laid out on her desk—the data was accurate. The drug itself had a fatal flaw, and fixing it would require significantly more funding.

Callie sighed, pushing up his glasses again. “Eleanor, if we have to start over, we’ll need more resources. Do you think Mr. Goodwin will keep backing us?”

He hated to admit it, but the setback stung. He’d believed in this project.

Eleanor gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. “Don’t get discouraged. This isn’t our fault. Science is all about trial and error, learning and correcting. We can’t give up—not when there are patients out there waiting for a miracle.”

Callie managed a nod, inspired by her calm resolve. He couldn’t help but wonder—had Eleanor really spent all those years just as a stay-at-home mom?