No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 692

“Professor, this is Dr. Sutton.”

The senior expert looked at Eleanor with a hint of amazement. “So accomplished at such a young age—impressive. Smith mentioned your research on leukemia to me. Remarkable, truly remarkable.”

Eleanor could barely hide her admiration. She’d read all his books, kept them on her nightstand, and practically memorized passages.

After a brief conversation, the conference began in earnest. The organizers had arranged for several leading academics to give keynote speeches, each one more compelling than the last. Eleanor clutched her notebook, slender fingers flying as she jotted down notes.

During the mid-morning coffee break, Tanya glanced over to see Eleanor still scribbling away. Looking a bit concerned, she brought over a cup of tea. “Here, have some. Warm yourself up.”

“Thank you, Dr. Tanya.” Eleanor looked up and smiled appreciatively.

“I can tell you’re pretty popular here,” Tanya teased, glancing around. “A couple of international scholars have already asked about you.”

Eleanor blushed, modest as ever. “I’m still the young one here. I have so much to learn from all of you.”

A fondness flickered in Tanya’s eyes. No wonder York always spoke so highly of her, she thought. With everything Eleanor had already achieved, she’d have every reason to be proud—yet she was humble and unassuming, never one to seek the spotlight.

“I’d better get back to my seat—it’s about to start again,” Tanya said, heading off as the room gradually quieted.

The conference ran until five that afternoon. That evening, Smith gathered a small group of academics and invited both Eleanor and Tanya to join.

Eleanor took the opportunity to text Ian, letting him know she’d be late tonight.

“Don’t worry, focus on your work! I’ll look after Evelyn,” Ian replied.

Eleanor felt instantly reassured. As much as she disliked Ian sometimes, he was the one person she trusted most to take care of their daughter—and Evelyn adored him.

Eleanor trailed behind, pulling back the covers to make space for her daughter.

Ian laid the sleeping child gently down, then, unable to resist, placed a soft kiss on her forehead before heading out. By the time he turned around, Eleanor had already slipped into the living room.

He shut the bedroom door behind him, just as Eleanor’s phone began pinging with several new messages. She picked it up from the couch, curling her fingers around a mug of tea, and a smile spread across her lips as she read.

So many messages, and this late—someone must be sending her photos.

It couldn’t be a work message; her colleagues wouldn’t bother her at this hour. It had to be someone close.

Eleanor scrolled through her phone, only half aware of Ian still standing silently in the living room. She looked up. “Is there something else?”

He leaned against the wall, eyes narrowed in curiosity. “How did it go today?”