No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 736

He also hoped Eleanor could set aside her personal biases and let her medical expertise shine through, so more people would come to recognize her achievements.

A little later, Ian texted Gavin, “Send me the final schedule for the foundation’s launch.”

Gavin quickly replied with the document.

Ian opened the digital itinerary, his gaze settling on the list of keynote speakers. His finger paused, and he made a note to extend Eleanor’s speaking slot to a full thirty minutes.

He also tweaked the seating chart, shifting Eleanor from a side seat in the second row to a more prominent spot in the center.

A few minutes later, Ian emailed Gavin, “Finalize the schedule according to my changes.”

“Understood, Mr. Goodwin,” Gavin replied.

Meanwhile, Eleanor was working on a proposal when her phone chimed. She picked it up to see a message from Joy Thatcher.

“Dr. Sutton! Any plans for Christmas?”

Eleanor blinked, glancing at the date—Christmas was just a day or two away. She couldn’t help but smile; she’d been so busy, she’d lost track of time.

“Just work! Might take my daughter out for dinner in the evening, pick up a few gifts,” she replied.

“I thought you’d be celebrating with some handsome guy!” Joy teased. She was already on maternity leave, thanks to Eleanor, who had not only approved her paid leave but also bumped up her base salary. Joy was genuinely touched and grateful.

Eleanor chuckled. “I’m working, darling. It’s not the weekend—I don’t exactly have time for a date.”

“You’re such a workaholic! Okay, let’s grab dinner together when you’re free,” Joy said.

After a few more messages, Eleanor glanced at her calendar. Ian’s foundation launch was set for January 10th—just two weeks away.

The next morning, Eleanor dropped her daughter off at school. The streets were decked out for the holidays, with Christmas decorations everywhere and gift shops bustling. Driving through town, she found herself in surprisingly good spirits.

When she arrived at the office, Gwenda greeted her with a smile, leading a young woman in a florist’s apron.

“This is Dr. Sutton,” Gwenda introduced.

The florist, arms full of fresh blooms and holding a beautifully wrapped gift box, stepped forward. “Miss Sutton, these were ordered for you by one of our customers. Could you please sign for them?”

Gwenda peered over, curiosity written all over her face, eager to see who the sender was.

Eleanor stood, a bit surprised. “May I ask who sent them?”

The shopgirl handed her a card. “Here, there’s a handwritten note and signature.”

Eleanor took the card and read, “Merry Christmas. —Vaughn.”

So, Xavier had sent them.

“Miss Sutton, could you sign here? I’m in a bit of a rush—lots more holiday deliveries today,” the florist said apologetically.

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