No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 502

The hospital’s air conditioning was blasting, and even with her white coat on, Eleanor looked chilled as she slept. Ian hesitated for a moment, then draped the suit jacket he’d been carrying gently over her shoulders.

He glanced at the desk, cluttered with scattered reports and a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. The computer screen was still aglow, displaying a patient’s real-time vitals.

Narrowing his eyes, Ian gathered up the stack of reports and absently picked up the half-finished coffee, then settled himself onto the sofa by the wall.

The quiet was broken only by the soft rustling of report pages and the subtle sound as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

Eleanor slept soundly for once. Usually plagued by dreams, tonight her mind was blissfully blank, though her internal clock was already nudging her awake.

Rubbing her eyes, she propped her head on her hand, still groggy, savoring a last moment of rest with her eyes closed.

“Awake?” A low male voice came from the sofa to her left.

Eleanor’s eyes snapped open as she turned abruptly, only to be met by Ian’s piercing gaze.

“What are you doing here?” The question burst from her lips as she jumped up, the jacket slipping from her shoulders to the floor.

She glanced down at the expensive suit jacket, wrinkled her nose, and tossed it disdainfully back at him. “Take your stuff.”

Ian frowned. She’d developed a habit lately of throwing things around.

He replaced the finished reports on her desk, clearly having read them all, and looked ready to leave.

“Get some rest. Don’t wear yourself out. I’ll take care of Evelyn,” he said, his voice low and even.

Eleanor’s gaze fell on the cup in his hand—the very coffee she’d been drinking earlier.

Her expression hardened. “Don’t touch my things again.”

Ian blinked in surprise, realizing she meant the coffee in his hand. His face stiffened a little. “Next time, I’ll buy you another.”

A spark of irritation flared up in Eleanor. “Do you think this is funny? You go through my things, pretend you care—just stop with the act, okay? Worry about me if you want, but only if you’ve earned the right.”

Ian’s eyes darkened. He swallowed, but said nothing. Still, he took the coffee with him.

After the door closed behind him, Eleanor stood at her desk, jaw clenched. “Jerk,” she muttered under her breath.

But work wasn’t going to finish itself. She sucked in a long breath, gave her face a brisk pat, and forced herself to focus. She couldn’t afford to waste time or energy on pointless drama.

When Eleanor returned from her rounds, she found a paper bag from the café sitting on her desk—brand new, unopened.

She knew Ian’s assistant must have delivered it. Instinctively, she reached for the bag, ready to toss it straight in the trash.

But she’d be at the hospital until ten tonight, and she needed the caffeine to keep her brain sharp.

Her fingers tightened around the bag. In the end, she pulled out the coffee, took a sip, and returned her attention to the reports glowing on her screen.

“Thank you, Mrs. Quinn,” Eleanor replied politely.

Gina paused—a little surprised at the formal tone. It seemed Eleanor was growing more distant.

Eleanor worried she might run into Ian or Serena Goodwin, but both were absent tonight. She enjoyed dinner with Evelyn in peace, then led her daughter outside by the hand.

“Mommy, Grandma says you’ve been busy. Are you finished now?”

“Not quite, sweetheart. I still have some work to do. But tomorrow I’ll take you to school myself—sound good?”

“Okay! I miss Vivian.”

“Vivian’s at school too?” Eleanor was surprised. She hadn’t heard from Xavier that Vivian was attending the summer program.

“Yeah! Didn’t I tell you last time?” Evelyn replied, puzzled.

Eleanor smiled. “Must have slipped Mommy’s mind.”

Just then, a black Rolls-Royce pulled up next to Eleanor’s car. Evelyn squealed in delight. “It’s Daddy’s car!”

The door opened and Ian stepped out, tall and composed, suit jacket draped over his arm, tie loosened—a clear sign he’d just come from work.