No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 58

Eleanor choked up for a second, her throat tight. Ian was already undoing the buttons of his shirt, baring his torso to the dim light.

Even in the shadows, the sculpted lines of his muscles were impossible to miss—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, the kind of physique that seemed almost unreal.

A rising urge to escape bubbled up inside her. Her mind was already racing through a dozen plans for how she could get away.

But with Ian standing right by the door, any attempt to run would only end with him dragging her straight back to the bed.

Right now, all she felt toward this man was hatred—love was long gone.

"I'm not feeling well tonight. Go back to your own room," she said coldly, her voice flat.

In the half-light, Ian suddenly stepped forward. Eleanor's heart leapt; she could smell his cologne drifting closer. She shoved him hard. "Ian, get off me! Let me go!"

But her strength was no match for his. In a flash, he had her wrists pinned above her head. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she sobbed, "You bastard, get away from me… Don't touch me. Don't touch me."

She truly, deeply hated him.

Ian's breath caught. After a moment, he released her wrists, bracing himself on either side of her, his face hovering close as he stared at her.

Eleanor curled in on herself, trembling and sobbing like a frightened animal cornered by a predator.

In the darkness, the calm in Ian's eyes twisted into something stormy and unsettled—a surge of emotion he tamped down before it could break free. At last, he straightened, gathering himself like a wounded beast hiding its claws, and walked out.

A few moments later, she heard the sound of his fist slamming into the hallway wall outside her door, the noise painfully loud even through the wood.

Eleanor sat up, wiped her tears away, and gradually her expression settled into calm.

She'd dodged disaster one more time.

But she couldn't keep living like this, tense and fearful every day. She needed to get out—she needed a divorce, and soon.

***

Over the weekend, Eleanor stayed with the Goodwin family to be with her daughter. Ian was nowhere to be seen. When Gina called him that evening, he said he was out meeting with clients.

It wasn't until late Sunday night that Eleanor, watching TV with her daughter, saw Ian finally come home, suit jacket slung over his arm.

"Daddy!" Evelyn squealed, having missed him over the past two days.

Ian knelt down, ruffling her hair. "Did you miss me?"

"I did!"

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Mom, Daddy's home," Evelyn called, turning to Eleanor.

Faye's tone was dismissive. "If you have real ability, no one can take that away from you. Besides, I warned her not to join the lab. She didn't listen. If she embarrasses herself, that's her problem."

"You're right, Faye. Someone as brilliant as you—she could never compete."

Inside the stall, Eleanor let a faint, ironic smile tug at her lips. She didn't step out until their voices had faded down the hall.

Back in the lab, Joel called her and Faye in for a meeting. A doctor from the infectious disease center briefed them on a recent outbreak—a new spherical virus, RT303, was spreading rapidly in Ashford City. Patients with pre-existing conditions were suddenly crashing into severe illness, and eight deaths had already been reported.

Eleanor flipped through the lab's analysis. She'd already begun plans for research targeting this kind of virus. It was a nasty strain, originally from abroad, and while some drugs on the market could suppress it, their effectiveness was limited.

"I've seen cases like this before," Faye said confidently. "I'm sure I can find the right drug in record time."

"That's fantastic," the doctor replied. "We're desperate for something effective—every hospital in the city is waiting for treatment options."

Eleanor spoke up. "I have a proposal as well. I think it could work."

Faye's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Eleanor, you should be careful what you say. Wishful thinking doesn't cure diseases."

Joel cut in. "Faye, what we need now are as many ideas as possible. You and Eleanor can each pursue your own approaches—when you have results, we'll discuss them together."

As the meeting ended, Joel walked alongside Eleanor. "Ellie, do you really think you can develop something new?"