No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 89

Faye's Office

Gwenda recounted her earlier attempt to speak with Eleanor. Faye's expression darkened. "Gwenda, was that really necessary?"

"I just wanted to help you out by sounding her out a little! See what she'd do," Gwenda replied, sounding a bit wounded.

Faye didn't appreciate the gesture. "Don't do this again. You're better off focusing on your research. That matters more than anything."

Gwenda had only meant to curry favor, but Eleanor had turned out to be impossible to read. She hadn't been able to dig up a thing.

Faye clenched her fist. Who knew what Eleanor might be saying about her behind her back?

—

At noon, Eleanor and Joel visited a few patients. By two o'clock, the two of them arrived at the medical examiner's office.

The moment they stepped into the autopsy room, a chill swept over Eleanor and she shivered. Joel shot her a look of concern. "It's freezing in here. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Eleanor said with a nod.

They observed the entire autopsy together, but by the end Eleanor felt queasy. She rushed out, barely making it to the hallway before she was sick. When she finished, Joel came over, having just washed his hands, and patted her shoulder apologetically. "I shouldn't have brought you here."

Eleanor wiped her mouth, feeling dizzy as she steadied herself against the wall. "It's alright. At least we learned something."

"Let's get you back," Joel said gently.

By the time they returned to the lab, Eleanor's head was pounding and she felt feverish. With a sinking feeling, she swabbed herself for a rapid test and handed the sample to Darcy. A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with a message: "Eleanor, you've tested positive."

—

Goodwin & Co. Headquarters

In the conference room, the investment team was deep in discussion.

Ian tapped the contract in front of him and looked at the investment manager. "I want this on my desk by Monday."

"Yes, Mr. Goodwin. Now that you've signed off, I'll have finance wire the funds this afternoon," the manager replied.

A colleague pushed up his glasses and, emboldened, asked, "Mr. Goodwin, the lawsuit with Suncrest Ltd. hasn't been resolved. Are we really moving forward with this investment now? Wouldn't it be wise to wait?"

The lawsuit hanging over Suncrest made the timing questionable, and the employee's nerves showed.

The manager shot him a glare. "Ableson, when Mr. Goodwin has made a decision, your job is to follow through. No more questions."

Ian offered no further explanation and left the room.

"Take care, Mr. Goodwin!" the manager called after him, all smiles. The rest of the team scrambled to their feet.

As soon as Ian was gone, the manager turned to the new hire. "Ableson, remember this—when it's anything to do with Suncrest Ltd., just sign, no questions."

Ableson blinked, still confused.

"Yes, sweetheart. I caught a virus and need to stay at the hospital for a few days. You be good for Daddy at home, alright?"

"Okay! I will," Evelyn promised.

"Call me anytime you miss me," Eleanor said, managing a smile.

Then Ian's voice came on the line. "Did you take your medicine? Are you feeling any better?"

Eleanor's smile faded. "A bit better."

"I'll come—"

She cut him off before he could finish. "No, don't come. Just take care of our daughter."

"Alright. Call me if you need anything," he said, and hung up.

If he came, it would only make things harder.

That night, Eleanor developed a high fever. Joel stayed by her side, caring for her until well past midnight. When she woke, groggy and weak, she managed a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"After this, the fever should break," Joel said softly, concern etched in his eyes.

The next morning, Eleanor's throat was raw and her voice nearly gone, though she was otherwise improving.

At ten, her phone buzzed several times. She checked her messages, her heart sinking. Detective Trent had sent photos: Ian, out riding with Evelyn, Vanessa at his side in a bright yellow dress, the three of them looking for all the world like a perfect family.