No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 37

In the second photo, Vanessa was getting an IV drip, leaning gently against Ian's arm like a fragile bird. Ian had draped his suit jacket over her to keep her warm.

The third photo showed Ian holding an umbrella, his arm wrapped around Vanessa, who was still wearing his jacket, as they walked together through a light drizzle.

"Miss Sutton, these photos clearly suggest your husband's infidelity. Rest assured, I'll keep monitoring and send you updates the moment I have anything new."

"Thank you," Eleanor replied. She quickly saved the photos in a private folder on her computer, preparing for the divorce.

The weather had turned cold, and before she knew it, New Year's Eve arrived.

Her mother-in-law called at nine sharp, urging Eleanor to bring Evelyn over early.

Ian came downstairs dressed in a smart but casual suit. Picking up the car keys, he scooped up their daughter, who was already dressed for the occasion, and they headed out.

The streets were alive with the festive spirit—twinkling lights, banners strung from lampposts, and crowds bustling along, faces glowing with holiday cheer.

At Goodwin Manor, two oversized gold-embossed "Welcome" signs were stuck to the grand front gates, while each side of the doorway was framed with bright red banners. The living room boasted fresh decorations that made the house feel unmistakably ready for the new year.

"Young madam, you're here!" Alfy, the housekeeper, greeted her warmly.

Eleanor walked in with her purse, spotting her mother-in-law beaming as she swept Evelyn into her arms. Eleanor greeted her with a polite, "Hi, Mom."

Gina barely glanced at her, holding her granddaughter close. Her warmth toward Eleanor had faded over time; once, Eleanor had been eager to please, but now she seemed colder, more distant—hardly the daughter-in-law Gina had hoped for.

Eleanor sat down on the sofa, setting her bag aside. Ian joined her, and both of them pulled out their phones, scrolling in silence.

The atmosphere was chilly and awkward. Looking at them, you'd never guess they were a married couple. They seemed more like strangers forced to share a room.

Magdalen, Ian's grandmother, cradled a vase of freshly cut flowers and stole a glance at her grandson and granddaughter-in-law. She let out a silent sigh. What on earth had happened between those two?

"I know, Grandma," Eleanor replied, her voice gentle.

Magdalen wagged a finger at her. "And if you ever feel wronged, don't keep it in. Let him know. If he dares mistreat you, I'll be the one to stand up for you."

Eleanor pretended to take the advice to heart. "Alright, Grandma. I understand."

The calmer Eleanor acted, the more convinced Magdalen became that she was keeping her pain bottled up. She softened her tone. "Ellie, it's always better to talk things out than hold it all inside. Bottled-up anger is bad for your health, especially for women."

As Eleanor trimmed a stem, her hand slipped and she snipped the skin right beside her nail. She winced, momentarily stunned, and only when she saw the blood welling up did she speak. "Grandma, I think I just cut myself."

"Let me see." Magdalen leaned in to inspect the wound, then looked up, about to call for a maid. But then she spotted her grandson standing in the doorway.

"Ian, fetch the first aid kit—Ellie's cut her hand!"