No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 41

Eleanor let out a cold laugh as she turned away. "Vanessa, don't act surprised. You know exactly what you did."

"Eleanor, what's that supposed to mean? Are you really going to blame Vanessa for this?" Serena snapped, her voice shaking with anger.

"That's enough, Serena," Ian said quietly, standing up and moving between them.

Serena bit her lip, falling silent. Ian turned to Eleanor. "Are you alright?"

Eleanor looked away. "I'm fine."

"Vanessa's the one who just got over a cold. If anyone should be worried, it's her," Serena chimed in from the side.

Vanessa gave a soft cough, covering her mouth. "I'm alright, really. I just swallowed some water the wrong way."

Ian shot Vanessa a concerned glance before turning back to Eleanor. "Let me take you home."

"No need." Eleanor's refusal was immediate. She spun on her heel, told the waiter to toss her soaked clothes, grabbed her purse, and walked up to Xavier. "Thank you, Mr. Vaughn."

Just as she reached the door, Vanessa swayed a little, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Ian, I'm feeling dizzy…"

Eleanor glanced back from the doorway. Ian was already by Vanessa's side, steadying her gently with one arm around her shoulders.

Xavier came over, giving Ian a friendly pat on the back. "I'll head out too."

"Already, Xavier? We haven't even finished dinner," Serena protested, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"My relatives are coming over tonight. Have to play host," Xavier replied, then slipped away.

Serena hurried to Vanessa's side. "Vanessa, do you want my brother to take you to the hospital?"

Vanessa shook her head. "No, I just need to rest at home."

"Then, Ian, you'd better take her back now!"

Ian looked at Vanessa's pale face, gave a gentle nod, and said softly, "Let's go."

Vanessa had once wondered: if she and Eleanor both fell into the water, who would Ian save first?

Today, she had her answer.

It would always be her.

Eleanor stood outside the restaurant, shivering in the chilly night air, clutching her bag. The hotel had only given her a thin undershirt, a white sweater, and a pair of slacks. The temperature was barely above freezing, and she huddled under the harsh glare of a streetlamp, teeth chattering.

Just then, a silver Bentley pulled up. The window rolled down and Xavier leaned out. "Mrs. Goodwin, let me give you a ride."

She shook her head, forcing a smile. "That's kind of you, Mr. Vaughn, but I'll be fine."

"It's New Year's Day—good luck hailing a cab tonight. Most drivers are off," Xavier pointed out.

Eleanor paused, looked up and down the street, and realized he was right. Private cars everywhere, but not a single taxi or rideshare in sight.

She nodded, conceding. "Thank you, Mr. Vaughn. Sorry for the trouble."

She gave him her address, and Xavier smiled. "I know it. Ian and I live in the same neighborhood."

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked.

She replied coolly, "No. I can take care of myself."

The message was clear—he could go.

Just then, Ian's phone rang. He answered, "Something came up at home. I won't make it today."

Eleanor frowned. If only he'd just leave.

She went to get some water, sat at the table, and opened the medicine bag.

"Don't take those on an empty stomach. Let me make you something to eat," Ian said quietly.

But Eleanor ignored him, too tired to argue. She swallowed a few pills, grabbed some bread she'd bought for her daughter, and trudged upstairs.

Behind her, Ian's voice suddenly rang out, angry and sharp. "Eleanor, how long are you going to keep this up?"

She exhaled slowly, turning to glare down at him from the stairs.

"Why do you care? It's not like you give a damn if I live or die, do you?" Her voice was icy.

Ian's expression softened. "About last night—I can explain."

Eleanor pressed her hand to her aching head, fighting for control. "No need. Whoever you wanted to save first was your choice. It doesn't matter to me."

"Don't you want to know why I saved her first?" Ian's voice was low, almost pleading.