No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 617

Ian’s grip on Eleanor’s arm was tight, almost bruising. She spun around, instinctively struggling to free herself.

“Let me go.” Her voice was low but fierce as she tried to yank her wrist from his grasp.

Ian’s expression flickered—conflicted, uncertain. He opened his mouth, as if to explain himself, but the look of utter disgust in Eleanor’s eyes stopped him cold.

He seemed stunned. Did he really not expect her to recoil from him this way?

Eleanor’s tone turned sharp, her patience worn thin. “Ian, let go. Or I’m calling the police.”

Right then, the conference room door swung open. Joel stepped in, his gaze immediately landing on Ian’s hand clamped around Eleanor’s arm. He frowned, his voice low and commanding. “Mr. Goodwin, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

A moment later, Faye appeared in the doorway as well, her face registering disbelief as she took in the scene.

Ian ignored Joel. His gaze stayed fixed on Eleanor, searching her face, but all he found there was loathing and resentment. At last, his grip slackened and he let her go.

Joel wasted no time. He moved to Eleanor’s side, gently taking her arm and guiding her behind him, positioning himself protectively between her and Ian.

“Mr. Goodwin, if you have something to say, say it. But Eleanor is no longer your wife. Please stop harassing her.”

Ian’s expression shuttered; his emotions vanished behind a mask of cool detachment as he straightened his suit jacket, restoring his usual composure. He glanced at Eleanor. “I apologize. My emotions got the better of me.”

Joel turned to Eleanor, his concern clear. “Do you want me to walk you back to your office?”

He didn’t buy Ian’s apology for a second. Seeing Ian grab Eleanor like that, Joel had been ready to intervene if things escalated.

During their marriage, Eleanor had kept her secrets. It was no surprise that Ian, as her ex-husband, would feel betrayed and lash out—he probably felt played for a fool.

Eleanor nodded, then slipped out of the conference room. Joel followed close behind.

Faye lingered at the door, watching Ian’s dark, clouded expression. She almost said something to comfort him, but in the end, she simply pressed her lips together and watched him walk away.

To Faye, the whole scene looked different. She was sure Eleanor had provoked Ian, driven him to the edge—probably by flaunting her recent achievements and threatening his pride.

After all, York’s comments today had vaulted Eleanor to a new level of importance in the company. Now, Eleanor was at the forefront of their neural interface project. Ian would have to reevaluate her worth, maybe even chase after her again. If Eleanor wanted her ex-husband back, it would be all too easy—she only needed to ask, and Ian would give her anything.

Back in the office, Eleanor sat on the couch, absentmindedly massaging her sore wrist where Ian had grabbed her. Joel stood nearby, his voice gentle. “Are you alright? What Ian did today definitely crossed the line into harassment.”

“Thank you, Joel.” Eleanor’s voice was weary.

“I believe that the theory of synaptic regeneration,” Eleanor said clearly, her voice steady and authoritative, “is the key to overcoming immune rejection in brain-machine interfaces.”

“I agree with Eleanor’s theory,” Tanya chimed in, nodding.

Everyone seemed impressed. York nodded enthusiastically, admiration clear in his eyes.

Faye watched silently, her nails digging into her palm. Today’s gathering was full of heavyweights in neural interface research—and once again, Eleanor was at the center of it all, making real contributions.

It made Faye remember that day back at Ashford Medical University, when she’d told Eleanor she should quit the lab and go back to being a housewife. Now those words felt like boomerangs, coming back to wound her pride.

She was about to look away when she noticed Joel watching Eleanor, his admiration for her unmistakable.

How was this possible? How could Eleanor know so much?

The meeting finally ended at noon. Byron had reserved a restaurant for lunch, and everyone headed out.

Tanya walked up front with Eleanor, whispering in low tones. Faye and Tanya’s assistant trailed behind. The assistant was friendly and eager to introduce herself, but Faye barely responded—she resented being lumped in with someone she considered beneath her.

After lunch, the group returned to Meridian Dynamics for the afternoon session. During the break, York called Eleanor over for a private discussion.