No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 350

Ian’s brow creased.

Eleanor pressed on. “If you have eyes, you’d see that every bit of my time and energy goes into the lab.”

Ian’s expression tightened, but he kept his gaze steady on her, face unreadable.

There was a sharpness to Eleanor now, impossible to ignore.

“Business investments are all about returns, but research doesn’t work that way. If all you care about is efficiency and profit, maybe you should invest in health supplements instead—those can hit the market in three months.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Ian’s eyes darkened; the air between them seemed to freeze.

Eleanor met his gaze head-on. “So, are you still planning to pull out of the project?”

She lifted her chin a fraction. “But let me warn you: if this project gets shut down, the eight billion you put in upfront will probably evaporate—gone, just like that.”

Ian stared at her. “Are you threatening me, Eleanor?”

She shot back, “Aren’t you the one threatening me?”

Ian gave a sudden, fleeting smile.

She’s changed.

This was no longer the Eleanor who used to swallow her feelings and step back. Now, she was a scientist who could stand toe-to-toe with him, unflinching.

And to his own surprise, he found himself—

Ian pressed his tongue to his cheek and said, “Sorry, I was out of line just now. I take it back.”

Eleanor heard the apology, but it rang hollow. She let it slide.

Ian suddenly stepped to her side, leaning down as if to speak to her in confidence.

Eleanor tensed, brows knitting together, as he braced one hand on the edge of her desk—somehow managing to make the space feel even smaller, as if he were closing her in.

“The project continues,” he said, withdrawing his hand, voice cool and all business again. “But the three-month deadline stays.”

It was clear: in this round, Eleanor had come out ahead.

She picked up the report, grabbed her bag, and prepared to leave.

“I’ll pick Evelyn up this afternoon. I want to take her out for dinner,” Ian called after her.

Eleanor’s face fell; she turned back, her voice sharp. “I’ll allow you to have dinner with her—just the two of you. But if you’re planning to introduce her to any random people, I won’t allow it.”

Ian paused, then gave a faint smile. “All right.”

Eleanor slammed the door behind her, fuming. That little smile—what did it mean? Did he think she still cared? That she was jealous? If that’s what was going on in his head, he really was deluding himself.

She had to admit, though—Ian still had a way of stirring up her emotions far too easily. The wounds he’d left ran deep.

Since Ian was taking care of their daughter, Eleanor found herself working late, throwing herself into her projects almost without realizing it.

By the time she pulled off her safety goggles and checked the clock, it was already nine in the evening. Shocked, she hurried to pack up and head home.

It was nearly ten when Eleanor finally opened the front door. Laughter greeted her—the bright sound of her daughter, and Ian’s familiar voice.

Princess, the family’s golden retriever, rushed out to greet her, tail wagging furiously.

“Mom!” Evelyn dashed over and hugged her tight, clearly in high spirits.

Sharing a simple dinner with Evelyn that night felt especially precious.

…

On Wednesday, Ellington forwarded her a company email. “Miss Sutton, here’s an invitation from Mr. Brown—he’s hosting a business dinner. If you have time, you should attend.”

Eleanor hesitated but ultimately decided to go. Mr. Brown’s influence in the business world was nothing to scoff at.

Just then, a message from Xavier popped up: “Are you going to the dinner on Sunday?”

Eleanor replied, “I’ll be there.”

“Great, see you then.”

She rubbed her temples. Truth was, she wasn’t looking forward to the event—one reason being the unpleasant company she’d have to endure.

Ian and Vanessa were sure to be there.

Time in the lab always seemed to fly. By noon on Wednesday, Ellington stopped by her office to remind her, and shortly after, Ian messaged her as well.

“My mother will pick up Evelyn this afternoon and take her home for dinner.”

Clearly, he knew about the event.

Eleanor sent back a quick reply, then took the afternoon off to visit a boutique downtown.

She chose a simple, elegant emerald gown—nothing flashy, but striking in its own right.

“Miss Sutton, you look absolutely stunning in that dress,” the manager said, and she meant it. There was something about Eleanor—a quiet confidence, a poise that radiated from within.