No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 393

Ian crouched down, his hand reaching for Eleanor’s shoe, but she jerked her foot back, eyes flashing with icy hatred.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped through gritted teeth, her voice full of disdain.

Ian’s hand halted mid-air. He looked up at her, sitting rigidly on the couch. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Eleanor glared at him, bristling like a hedgehog. “I don’t need your help.”

At that moment, Joel stepped into her office, concern etched on his face. “Eleanor, what happened?”

Ian straightened up and turned to Joel. “She hurt her foot. Take her to the hospital.”

Joel’s eyes widened in surprise. Eleanor had seemed perfectly fine in the meeting earlier—how had she gotten injured so suddenly? Had Ian done something when he asked her to stay behind?

As Ian reached the door, a few nosy staff members outside quickly scattered.

With Ian gone, only Eleanor and Joel remained in the office.

Joel knelt down to examine her ankle carefully, brow furrowing. “It’s really swollen. You need to have it checked by a doctor.”

Eleanor shook her head. “It’s just a sprain. Some ice will do the trick.”

Joel gave her a searching look. “Did he do this to you?”

She forced a cold smile. “It doesn’t matter.”

Joel didn’t press further. Instead, he went to the office mini-fridge, grabbed a cold pack, wrapped it in a towel, and gently pressed it to her ankle.

“I’ll drive you home early today so you can rest,” Joel said softly.

“Alright,” Eleanor agreed. There was no way she’d be able to drive herself with her foot in this state.

Later, Byron stopped by to check on her, and even sent his assistant, Laird, to help Eleanor with some paperwork.

That evening, Evelyn gazed worriedly at her mother’s injured foot. “Mom, how did you get hurt?”

Children never let go of anything they’re curious about, and Evelyn was no exception.

Eleanor sighed and spun a little white lie. “I was carrying too many files and twisted my ankle.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened, her voice earnest. “You work too hard, Mom. When I grow up, I’ll make lots of money and take care of you.”

Eleanor’s heart melted. She pulled her daughter into a hug and kissed her forehead. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.”

“Promise!”

Byron granted Eleanor three days of working from home so she could recover.

The next morning, as she was writing a report, her phone buzzed with a string of messages. Eleanor glanced at the screen in surprise—Mansfield Ellington had sent several texts, all asking about her.

“I heard you hurt your foot. Is it serious?”

“Did you see a doctor? What did they say?”

“Did someone hurt you?”

She stared at her phone, momentarily stunned. How did he know about this?

She texted back, “It’s just a mild sprain. I’ll be fine after a few days’ rest, but thank you for checking on me, Mr. Ellington.”

Barely ten seconds after she hit send, her phone rang. Mansfield’s concerned voice came through as soon as she answered. “Eleanor, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m much better now,” she replied, managing a small smile.

“There are still ten days before the holiday. Would it be alright if I came by to see you then?”

Decker: “Eleanor, the stability test data’s in. There’s something odd—need you to review.”

Laird: “Ellie, I’ve sent the meeting notes to your inbox.”

Even working from home, Eleanor was anything but idle.

Later that day, Joy stopped by to check on her. Earbuds in, Joy was scrolling through social media when she suddenly froze.

“Well, isn’t she something,” Joy muttered.

Eleanor looked up. “Who?”

“You know—the one you can’t stand. The woman.”

Joy puffed out her cheeks and added, “She’s got a solo concert this Friday at Kingston Hall.”

Eleanor instantly knew who she meant.

“She’s performing at the most prestigious concert hall in the city. Unbelievable,” Joy said, tossing her phone down.

Vanessa had been keeping a low profile at her daughter’s school lately—apparently, she’d been busy preparing for her concert.

But right now, Eleanor had no energy to think about anything except her current project.

On Friday, when Evelyn got home from school, Eleanor was buried in work when she heard her daughter sobbing as she ran upstairs.

“What’s wrong, Evelyn?”

“I want Dad to come see me, but he’s too busy,” Evelyn said through tears, rubbing her eyes, her voice trembling with disappointment.

Eleanor paused, caught off guard. “What’s got you missing your dad all of a sudden?”