No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 67

Ian glanced at Eleanor's stubborn silhouette, then walked over to Mr. Brown, who was preparing to leave.

Not wanting to disturb Jude Vaughn, who was still busy, Eleanor quietly made her way to the elevator lobby. Behind her, Ian and Vanessa were escorting Mr. Brown as well.

Eleanor stepped aside to let them pass. Mr. Brown smiled at Ian and said, "Ian, the lab project is a top priority for us. I trust you'll handle it well."

"You can count on me, sir. There's nothing to worry about on that front," Ian replied modestly.

Vanessa noticed Eleanor standing nearby and the corners of her mouth lifted in a slight, knowing smile.

When the elevator doors opened, Ian ushered Mr. Brown inside. Eleanor decided to wait for the next one, but Ian held the doors open and looked up at her, his tone cool and flat. "Come on in."

Eleanor stepped inside. Soon, the elevator arrived on the first floor. Vanessa hurried forward to support Mr. Brown as he exited. Mr. Brown's assistant came over and said, "Mr. Brown, the car is waiting over here."

Ian and Vanessa walked Mr. Brown to his car. Off to the side, Eleanor was looking down at her phone, calling for a ride. Suddenly, Vanessa let out a soft gasp and leaned in against Ian.

Ian's long arm circled her shoulders protectively. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"I just twisted my ankle, but it's nothing," Vanessa said, biting her red lip. Then, as if noticing Eleanor for the first time, she called out, "Miss Sutton, it's still early. Why don't you come back up and have a drink with us?"

Eleanor shot her a frosty look and answered an incoming call, her voice cold and businesslike. "Hello? Hi, are you here?"

"Great, I'm coming out now."

She gripped her phone and started to walk away, but a large hand closed around her arm. Ian's voice followed. "Text me when you get home."

Eleanor turned her head, catching his eye—a moment ago, he'd been fussing over Vanessa's ankle, now suddenly pretending to care about her safety.

The hypocrisy made Eleanor want to gag.

"Let me go," she said icily.

She yanked her arm free with force. Just then, her ride pulled up, the window rolling down to reveal a middle-aged driver. "Did you call for a ride?"

"Yes, that's me," Eleanor replied immediately.

She pulled open the back door, slid into the seat, and urged, "Let's go, please."

By eight-thirty, Eleanor was home. Ian didn't come back that night.

***

The next morning, Eleanor got a call from Magdalen, inviting her for lunch at Goodwin Manor.

She stopped on the way to pick up some fruit and arrived in time for lunch. Ian returned from outside, and Serena showed up as well.

At the table, Serena was recounting stories of friends abroad being hit hard by the latest viral outbreak.

"I heard they've already developed a special treatment here," Gina chimed in, mentioning that a friend of hers had taken it with great results.

"Is that true, Ian?" Serena asked, turning to her brother.

Ian nodded. "Dr. Lyman's research team developed an effective medication. It's already out on the market."

Serena looked at him with open admiration. "Whoever came up with that must be a genius."

That evening, Eleanor's mother-in-law refused to let her take Evelyn home, saying she wanted the couple to have some time alone together. "You two go on home. I'll have someone bring Evelyn back on Sunday afternoon," Magdalen insisted.

Eleanor had no choice but to give in. At least she'd driven herself this time and didn't have to ask Ian for a ride.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and got in her car. Ian was waiting by her window. She rolled it down and said, "I'm staying at a friend's place tonight."

With that, she started the engine and drove off, dialing Joy's number as she went.

Joy lived alone and was always happy for company. She'd worked hard to buy her own three-bedroom apartment in a nice part of town, living the dream of a sophisticated city professional.

Eleanor lounged on Joy's sofa, lazily stroking her cat. "You ever think about getting a boyfriend?" she asked, looking up.

"Don't even joke," Joy replied, bringing over two glasses of juice. "I've seen as many divorce cases as I've had hot dinners. Marriage? No, thank you."

Eleanor thought of her own failed marriage and realized she was in no place to argue.

"I bet Ian and Vanessa are getting impatient," Joy said. "Maybe Ian's just waiting for you to ask for a divorce. That way, he won't have to feel guilty, and he won't have to split as much of his money with you."

Eleanor thought for a moment. "I just want my daughter. I don't care about his money."

"Why not? Wouldn't it be better to get your share?" Joy was practical as ever, always seeing things in terms of profit.

Eleanor shook her head. "I only want my daughter."

She had her own ways of making money. But her daughter's future—she'd never leave that to anyone else.

Looking at Joy, Eleanor said quietly, "I think I'm ready to file for divorce."