No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 13

Vanessa froze in disbelief. She had expected to see a flustered, helpless Eleanor, but instead, Eleanor strode up to the grand piano with calm determination, not a trace of hesitation in her steps.

A flicker of surprise crossed Vanessa's mind. Eleanor could play the piano?

But she hadn't even finished college. Wasn't she just an ordinary housewife, someone with nothing special about her?

Ian's gaze lingered on the poised figure now seated at the piano. Under the warm, golden light, the shadows played across his striking features, making his expression unreadable and complex.

Eleanor sat quietly beneath the gentle spotlight, the very image of grace—like a lily blooming at midnight, pale and elegant.

Then, as she let her fingers wander across the keys, coaxing out the first tentative notes, everyone in the room felt the same jolt of realization.

They had all underestimated Mrs. Goodwin.

Vanessa's fingers tightened unconsciously around the carved armrest of her chair. The woman on stage, playing so effortlessly, felt like a thorn driven deep into her heart.

How was this possible?

For years, Eleanor had hated the piano. But, in time, she realized it wasn't the instrument she despised, but rather the woman who used to play it. Why deny herself such beautiful music?

Her life stretched out before her, and she needed music to fill the silence. So she learned—and not just learned, but played well. Perhaps she'd never reach Vanessa's world-class caliber, but she was more than good enough to earn praise.

When the last note faded, Eleanor gave a small bow and returned to her seat. She didn't glance at Vanessa, nor did she care to see her reaction. Instead, she picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. Just then, a voice murmured appreciatively beside her. "That was incredible."

Eleanor looked up, meeting Joel's gaze, which brimmed with genuine admiration. Her lips curled into a smile—she knew Joel's praise was sincere.

At that moment, Ian knocked back the rest of his drink and stood. "It's getting late. We should head home."

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