No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 576

The violence of capital is almost always silent.

Just then, Eleanor’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the unfamiliar number, hesitated, then answered, “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Dr. Sutton, it’s Marcus—perhaps the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Marcus? Of course Eleanor remembered him. He used to be Ian’s project manager, and after the success of a major project, the shareholders had promoted him to vice president.

“Mr. Chase, what do you need?” Her tone cooled noticeably.

“It’s about the news online. As you’ve probably seen, the board thinks it’s time to form a shareholder oversight committee. I’m calling to invite you to join.”

Eleanor’s voice was ice. “Mr. Chase, I have no interest in your power games. Don’t drag me into them.”

“Dr. Sutton, don’t be so quick to say no,” Marcus coaxed smoothly. “You’re a shareholder, too. Are you really going to sit by and watch Ian burn everyone’s money in a bottomless pit?”

“Have you actually looked into the neural interface project? If you haven’t bothered to understand it, you have no right to make those accusations,” she shot back.

Marcus gave an awkward chuckle. “I know you’re the chief researcher, but I also heard you and Mr. Goodwin have been at each other’s throats since the divorce. Don’t you hate him, too?”

Eleanor said nothing.

He pressed on. “Honestly, Mr. Goodwin isn’t fit to be CEO anymore. A lot of his decisions have angered the shareholders. We’d like to recommend someone with better judgment to replace him—”

Eleanor cut him off. “Mr. Chase, you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Dr. Sutton, just think about it. This is your best shot at getting back at your ex. Bring him down, and we all benefit.” Marcus finished, polite to the last. “I won’t keep you from your rest.”

“I’ll write your three-year roadmap. In three days, you can call a board meeting.”

There was a pause, then his voice came, low and rough. “Why are you suddenly helping me?”

Eleanor let out a dry laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t want to see the neural interface project sacrificed to your little power struggle. This has nothing to do with you.”

Ian gave a short laugh of his own. “Fine. I’ll wait for the plan.”

Eleanor hung up, headed for her study, and opened the encrypted file York had sent her. It was time to start drafting the three-year plan.

Meanwhile, on the top floor of Goodwin & Co.’s executive suite, Gavin entered with a cup of tea and found Ian sitting on the sofa. The lines of worry had eased from Ian’s brow, and for the first time in weeks, a faint smile played at the corners of his mouth.