No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 580

“I’m heading to the conference room,” Gwenda said.

“That’s where the board meeting is. What are you doing in there?” Faye grabbed her arm.

“Eleanor’s giving a presentation soon. I’m going in to help her,” Gwenda replied. Then she shot Faye a look and added, “Didn’t you know? All the shareholders are here just to hear Eleanor’s speech.”

To be honest, Gwenda had only just found out herself—but she knew exactly how to get under Faye’s skin.

As expected, Faye’s face went pale. “What did you say? The entire Goodwin & Co. board is here for Eleanor?”

“That’s right. I heard they were supposed to meet at headquarters, but Mr. Goodwin insisted they come here instead.” With that, Gwenda didn’t wait for a reply. She strode toward the conference room, leaving Faye standing there, looking rattled and sour.

Marcus stepped out to take a call. As he hung up, he spotted Eleanor approaching in a crisp white suit, clutching a folder. He smiled and walked over. “Dr. Sutton, I didn’t expect you to be heading up the presentation today!”

“Is there a problem?” Eleanor’s eyes were cool and steady.

“No, it’s just—” Marcus’s gaze sharpened. “You saw the photos I sent you, right? Rumor has it Miss Shannon spent all night with Mr. Goodwin.”

Eleanor gave a small smile and corrected him, “Ian is my ex-husband, not my current one.”

Marcus looked momentarily uncomfortable. “Seems I was meddling. Please, go in.”

He gestured to the door. Eleanor entered the conference room, instantly drawing the attention of every shareholder—some surprised, some skeptical, but most simply curious.

Besides being a shareholder herself, Eleanor was also the lead researcher on the neural interface project.

Ian sat at the head of the table, a relentless force—like a wolf that never admitted defeat.

She walked them through her research, including results from two years before—the ones she’d carefully anonymized, never mentioning she’d led the work herself.

The room fell silent as everyone listened closely. Eleanor’s theoretical groundwork came alive through clear experimental footage—some of it provided by York.

Jacques couldn’t help but interrupt. “Eleanor, is your data reliable?”

Eleanor pulled up an internationally recognized certification. “All data has been independently validated by the Drexford Institute of Neuroscience, with Dr. York’s personal signature.”

Marcus chimed in, “Dr. Sutton, your relationship with Mr. Goodwin is hardly a secret. Are you sure you’re not just trying to help him out—?”

Eleanor met his eyes. “Mr. Chase, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t derail my research presentation with irrelevant comments.”

Ian’s focused expression faltered for a split second.