No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 90

In the second photo, her daughter was sitting atop a little chestnut pony, grinning so widely her eyes nearly disappeared, flashing a peace sign at Vanessa's camera.

Those pictures sent a stab of pain through Eleanor's heart so sharp she could barely breathe. She'd only been away from home for a single day, and Ian had already taken their daughter to see Vanessa.

Eleanor drew a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her head—which had already been aching—now throbbed so fiercely with anger she thought it might split open.

Just then, she heard footsteps outside her hospital room. Assuming it was the nurse, she looked up—only to see Xavier standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Vaughn? What are you doing here?" she blurted, surprise evident in her voice.

Xavier looked equally startled. "One of my relatives is staying here. I happened to walk past your room and saw your name, so I thought I'd stop in to check on you."

Eleanor managed a bitter smile, her voice hoarse. "Caught a bug, I'm afraid. Got infected somehow."

Even as she spoke, the pounding in her head seemed to ripple down to her stomach. Before she could brace herself, a wave of nausea hit; she slapped a hand over her mouth and doubled over, gagging.

Xavier hurried to her side, grabbing the wastebasket and placing it by her bed in case she needed it.

Eleanor couldn't fight the nausea any longer and retched miserably, clutching at the sheets. When she finally managed to lift her head, a damp tissue appeared in front of her.

"Thank you," she rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper before coughing violently again. A large, steady hand began gently patting her back, helping her through the fit.

Suddenly, a thought struck Eleanor and she grew anxious. "Mr. Vaughn, you should leave! There's a virus going around—I wouldn't want you to catch it."

Xavier shook his head. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

When her coughing finally subsided, Eleanor lay back against the pillows, utterly drained. Xavier poured her a glass of warm water and handed it to her. "Here, have some water. It'll help."

She drank gratefully, then sank into the ice-blue sheets, exhausted. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting delicate patterns across her pale face and the dark hair spilling over the pillow, making her look all the more fragile.

Xavier gazed at her, concern flickering in his eyes.

Eleanor looked at him, worried. "Mr. Vaughn, you really should go. I'm still not fully recovered, even after the medication."

Not wanting to cause her more trouble, Xavier stood up. "If you need anything, call the nurse. Don't try to tough it out alone."

"Thank you for caring," Eleanor said, managing a faint smile.

After Xavier left, Eleanor closed her eyes, but her mind was in turmoil. The urge to get a divorce surged up inside her, fiercer than ever.

She was done waiting. She wanted a divorce. She was going to fight for her daughter, no longer willing to let Vanessa anywhere near her.

Ten o'clock that night.

Eleanor drifted in and out of a feverish sleep. She felt a presence by her bedside and, heavy-lidded, croaked, "Joel, I want some water."

Someone poured her a glass, settling down beside her. Eleanor forced her eyes open—only to see it wasn't Joel.

It was Ian.

He wore a surgical mask, dark eyes fixed on her intently.

By the afternoon, Eleanor was recovering steadily, and Joel stayed with her until evening before leaving.

On the third day, Eleanor's fever and cough had vanished. Other than some lingering weakness in her limbs, she was testing negative for the virus.

She'd assumed she'd recover in three days, but she'd underestimated how stubborn this thing was. Even though she'd improved, she still had to isolate herself for another three days before she could be discharged.

She missed her daughter terribly. After two days of waiting, Eleanor finally dialed Ian's number.

But the voice that answered wasn't Ian's—it was Vanessa's. "Hello?"

"Put Ian on the phone," Eleanor said, her tone frosty.

It didn't surprise her that they were together—out of sight, Ian and Vanessa were already living like a married couple.

"He's in the shower right now. How about I have him call you when he's done?" Vanessa replied sweetly.

So Ian wasn't with their daughter? Was he out on a date with Vanessa?

Eleanor didn't bother replying. She ended the call.

That evening, Ian never called her back. Maybe Vanessa hadn't mentioned it, or maybe Ian simply didn't care.

A week later, Eleanor was discharged.

She decided to wait two more days before seeing her daughter, wanting to rest at home first.