No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 560

Eleanor stepped into the plush jet cabin, pulling her jacket tighter against the chilly air conditioning. Glancing up, she spotted Ian by the window, immersed in a stack of documents. He barely spared her a glance before returning his focus to the pages.

“Eleanor, just pick any seat you like,” Byron called out.

She chose a spot away from him and settled in. The plane soon began to taxi and took off smoothly.

Once they reached cruising altitude, a flight attendant brought over coffee and pastries. Byron struck up a conversation about the new medication they were developing, but before long, exhaustion seemed to catch up with him. He slumped over his tray table and fell asleep as if he’d pulled an all-nighter.

Two hours later, they landed at Kingston International Airport. Byron was refreshed again as they made their way to the waiting car. Just as Byron was about to take the passenger seat up front, Eleanor spoke up. “Mr. Chase, I get carsick. Would it be all right if I took the front seat?”

Byron paused, glanced over at Ian, who—expression cool—opened the back door and slid inside without a word. Byron nodded and let Eleanor have the front, then climbed into the back himself.

The city flashed by outside the window, but inside the car, the mood was heavy and quiet. Ian leaned back and closed his eyes, looking as if he could use a rest, too.

As Eleanor gazed out the window, a billboard caught her eye: Vanessa, the face of a luxury jewelry brand, stared down from above.

After an hour and a half, they arrived. Eleanor stepped out of the car in front of a gray building, where two uniformed security guards stood at the entrance.

She recognized a few familiar faces, though she couldn’t recall their names. They greeted her warmly anyway. “Mr. Goodwin, Dr. Sutton, the military delegation is already waiting in the conference room.”

Ian turned to Byron. “You stay in the car and wait for me.”

Eleanor was surprised. Byron wasn’t even allowed to attend the meeting? Just how high-level was this?

“Eleanor.” From across the lobby, a familiar figure approached. Garrison strode over.

“Dr. Bradley,” Eleanor greeted him.

They entered a solemn conference room. At the head of the table sat Mr. Black, and on the screen behind him, bold letters read: “Symposium on Military Applications of Brain-Computer Interfaces.” Eleanor instantly understood the gravity of the occasion.

The meeting began. Garrison, representing the military, launched into his presentation. Eventually, he touched on the initial findings in brain-computer interface technology. Eleanor listened attentively until Mr. Black’s gentle voice broke in.

“Eleanor, according to our research, you worked on similar projects during your time at Drexford, didn’t you?”

She steadied herself, took a breath, and replied, “Yes. I participated in early-stage brain-computer interface research at Drexford. Our focus was on medical rehabilitation—helping paralyzed patients control exoskeletons via brainwaves, or enabling coma patients to reestablish neural activity. But for personal reasons, I left the lab two years ago.”

As they left the conference room, Mr. Black suddenly caught sight of someone and hurried forward, his entourage falling in step behind him. Eleanor glanced up; her breath caught. Garth Ellington had arrived.

After a few polite words with Mr. Black, Garth bypassed the others and called out warmly, “Eleanor, could you come here for a moment?”

Everyone turned in surprise as Eleanor walked over. Garth led her down a side corridor, and she followed.

Ian’s gaze tracked her, unreadable.

Barely two minutes later, Eleanor returned, echoing Garth’s last words in her mind:

“Mansfield is currently on assignment abroad, but he’s very concerned about you. If you ever want an update, just reach out to me. I also met with Dr. Windsor—he spoke very highly of you. This project will need your full attention.”

Eleanor exhaled softly. So, it was Mr. Ellington whom Dr. Windsor had visited. Even he was closely watching this research. No matter which team she joined, Eleanor realized, her efforts would be poured into this project.

Mr. Windsor had recruited her for Meridian Dynamics specifically because an independent research team could more easily collaborate with his lab. That’s what he meant by “the Trojan Horse.”

Looking up, Eleanor met Ian’s probing gaze. He walked over to her. “Dr. Sutton, the offer letter from Meridian Dynamics has already been sent to you.”