No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 621

Ian Goodwin stood outside the garden gate, the night wind brushing against his tense features. He glanced back at the glowing window on the second floor before pulling open the car door and settling into the driver’s seat.

Upstairs, in the softly lit bedroom, Eleanor Sutton lay on her side next to her daughter. Every so often, she reached out to check Evelyn Goodwin’s forehead. Thankfully, there was no sign of a high fever—just a typical seasonal cold. As long as Evelyn’s immune system held up, her body would fight it off on its own.

Still, Eleanor couldn’t help but worry. Two years ago, Evelyn had needed a minor procedure to clear her lungs. The doctors had called it routine, but for Eleanor, it had been anything but small.

At the time, it had been the best way to rid Evelyn’s lungs of the stubborn mucus.

Eleanor’s thoughts tangled and churned as she lay there, and eventually, sleep pulled her under.

Sometime past midnight, Evelyn coughed, startling herself awake. Eleanor snapped to attention, instantly reaching out to check on her daughter. Feeling that Evelyn’s temperature had finally dropped, Eleanor exhaled in relief—her little girl’s fever had broken.

Eleanor slipped out of bed and padded downstairs for a glass of water. As she reached the kitchen, she heard Princess—the family’s golden retriever—whining at the door. Only then did Eleanor remember Ian was still out in the car.

She had no desire to talk with him, but she didn’t want him waiting outside all night either. Picking up her phone, she sent him a quick message:

“Evelyn’s temperature is back to normal. You can go home.”

“Alright. Call me if you need anything,” Ian replied a moment later.

A few seconds later, the sound of an engine rumbling to life drifted in from outside.

Joslyn, the housekeeper, must have heard the noise too, because she appeared in the hallway, wrapping a cardigan tighter around her shoulders. She glanced over at Eleanor, who was sipping water in the kitchen. “Is Evelyn still running a fever?”

“It’s gone down,” Eleanor replied.

“That’s a relief. I was so worried—” Joslyn began, remembering how terrified she’d been two years ago.

Before Eleanor could respond, Joslyn added, “Ma’am, Mr. Goodwin still doesn’t know about Evelyn’s lung procedure, does he?”

“There’s no need to bring up the past,” Eleanor said quietly.

Joslyn froze, silently thankful she hadn’t mentioned it earlier—no sense stirring up trouble.

By morning, Evelyn’s fever had completely subsided, and her energy had returned. Eleanor stayed home from work, watching as her daughter bounced around energetically on the bed.

“Mom, am I going to school today?” Evelyn asked, blinking her bright blue eyes.

Eleanor walked over and placed a hand on her forehead, just to be sure. “Let’s rest for another couple of days. I’ll be home with you.”

Evelyn grinned. “Will Dad come visit?”

Eleanor’s hands paused in the middle of straightening the blanket. Ian had texted earlier to ask about Evelyn, but she’d told him there was no need to come by.

“Your dad’s busy with work—”

“Ma’am, for lunch—?” Joslyn interjected, wondering if she should prepare a meal for Ian as well.

“My dad is staying for lunch!” Evelyn answered cheerfully before Eleanor could say a word.

Three pairs of eyes turned to Eleanor, as if only her approval could make it official.

Seeing her daughter’s eager face, Eleanor finally gave a small nod.

Joslyn grinned. “Perfect, I’ll run out for groceries now.”

Ian and Evelyn settled in the living room, tearing open the building blocks set as the morning sunlight poured through the windows, casting warm, golden patterns on the floor.

At the top of the stairs, Eleanor lingered for a moment, then quietly retreated to her room. Laughter drifted up from downstairs—Evelyn’s giggles, Ian’s deeper chuckle. Eleanor decided to leave them be; as long as her daughter was happy, that was enough.

At noon, Joslyn served a hearty lunch. Evelyn’s appetite had returned, and with her father there, she seemed brighter than ever.

After the meal, Evelyn grew sleepy again. She nestled in Ian’s arms on the sofa, chatting quietly with her favorite stuffed animal, Wiz. Before long, she drifted off, her small head tucked against Ian’s shoulder.

Ian held her close, his features softening with tenderness.

Joslyn stepped in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of fresh fruit, and paused at the sight. It struck her just how quickly time had passed. She remembered when Ian would cradle Evelyn on the sofa as a chubby little baby. Now, she was six—still his little girl, but growing up so fast.