No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 604

“Be good, sweetie. Daddy will play with you next time.” Ian gently set his daughter down and slipped off his trench coat. “Go on inside now!”

But Evelyn clung stubbornly to the hem of his coat. “No, Daddy has to come in too.”

Eleanor stood at the door, her face unreadable. She spoke to her daughter, “He’s busy, honey. He has a meeting.”

By now, the rain was coming down hard. Ian’s dark hair was drenched, water streaming along his sharp jaw. He glanced down at Evelyn’s hopeful face, then back up at Eleanor. “Let me just walk her inside.”

Eleanor’s porch offered no shelter from the rain, so Evelyn huddled under her mother’s umbrella.

“That’s not necessary,” Eleanor replied coolly.

Evelyn’s eyes grew round with worry as she watched her father get soaked, rainwater running down his face and soaking his suit. Lips quivering, she pleaded, “Mom, don’t make Daddy go. He’s all wet!”

Eleanor saw the tears welling up in her daughter’s eyes. She understood—seeing her dad like this, Evelyn’s heart ached for him. And from a mother’s perspective, Eleanor knew she couldn’t ignore this budding empathy. If she hardened her heart and dismissed her daughter’s compassion for her father, it would only hurt Evelyn’s emotional growth.

Eleanor took a deep breath, then finally stepped aside. “Alright. Come in.”

Ian looked momentarily surprised.

Eleanor guided Evelyn onto the balcony, shielding her with the umbrella, as Ian followed, raindrops pooling at his feet.

“I’ll get you a towel, Daddy!” Evelyn called out, truly worried. She dashed off and came back with a small, dry towel—her own.

Ian crouched down, not taking the towel, but instead smiled gently. “Would you help Daddy wipe off the rain?”

“Okay!” Evelyn nodded eagerly and began awkwardly dabbing at his hair and face.

From the corner by the water dispenser, Eleanor watched the two of them laughing together. She knew this was something she could never change—a bond that belonged only to them.

“Mom, do we have any clean clothes?” Evelyn asked, glancing at her dad’s soaked sweater.

“No,” Eleanor answered crisply.

Ian’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. Not a single man’s shirt in the house? That could only mean she’d never brought another man here.

“Evelyn, tell your dad to go to Grandma’s and change. It’s not far,” Eleanor said, letting her daughter have the last word but also nudging Ian to leave.

“Daddy, you should go to Grandma’s, take a hot shower, and change your clothes—so you don’t get sick,” Evelyn urged.

Ian nodded, ruffling her hair. “Alright, Daddy’s heading out.”

After Ian left, Eleanor gave her daughter some warm water and checked her clothing to make sure she hadn’t gotten wet.

That evening, Eleanor cooked a simple dinner—two bowls of pasta. She savored the quiet time with her daughter, just the two of them.

——

The next morning, as Eleanor headed out, she noticed a security car trailing behind her—Ellington’s arrangement. For the next month, the car would follow her everywhere, just in case.

Byron immediately expressed concern. “Mr. Goodwin, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a cold,” Ian said, waving it off, his gaze sweeping over the group.

Faye quickly grabbed her phone and texted Vanessa, “Did you know Mr. Goodwin is sick?”

“Yeah, he caught a chill the past couple of days,” Vanessa replied.

Faye’s imagination ran wild. Given Ian’s usual resilience, it was hard to picture him catching a cold under ordinary circumstances. Did something… happen? Maybe Vanessa was on her period and couldn’t satisfy him, so he took a cold shower or something? She glanced at the stoic, self-possessed man across from her, feeling her cheeks flush and quickly cut off her train of thought.

Eleanor, meanwhile, calmly flipped through her files, as if the people and drama around her had nothing to do with her.

The meeting began. Ian was as professional and focused as ever, though he coughed quietly every so often. Byron had Laird bring him a mug of warm water.

Halfway through, Ian’s coughing worsened.

“Mr. Goodwin, do you need to take a break?” Byron asked, worried.

Ian shook his head, voice hoarse. “Let’s keep going.”

Several people looked over at Eleanor—after all, Ian was her ex-husband. Now that he was sick, surely she felt something for him.

But Eleanor’s expression remained cool and composed, giving absolutely nothing away. If anything, she seemed even less concerned than anyone else in the room.