No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 381

That afternoon’s technology seminar was dominated by a barrage of questions from the military delegation, all zeroing in on the project’s potential.

“Is this technology capable of rapidly stopping bleeding and repairing internal organ injuries in harsh battlefield conditions?” Mr. Black asked, his tone grave.

His question brought the meeting room to a sudden, tense silence.

Byron, frowning as he flipped through his notes, looked uneasy—he was an engineer, after all, and medical science wasn’t exactly his forte.

Joel, meanwhile, was furiously scribbling calculations into his notebook. Spotting this, Faye quickly ducked her head and pretended to jot something down as well, inwardly cursing her luck—this was miles outside her area of expertise.

She thought, It’s not just me—even Joel can’t make any guarantees here.

Just then, a clear female voice broke the silence. “In theory, nanorobots could achieve that.”

Eleanor stood up, all eyes turning her way as she stepped to the projector and pulled up a set of research data.

“I ran a similar simulation last year.” She zoomed in on a 3D model. “By improving the current nanomaterials and using magnetic field guidance, we can achieve micro-suturing within thirty minutes.”

A flicker of admiration crossed Garrison’s face. He rose and said, “Miss Sutton’s experiments are highly practical.”

Across the table, Ian’s lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile.

Eleanor proceeded with a calm, confident demonstration, explaining the technical details.

“How long would it take to translate this technology to clinical use?” a military expert pressed.

“If we have military lab support…” Eleanor paused in thought. “We could complete animal trials within two months.”

“With Meridian Dynamics’ current lab capabilities, that’s absolutely feasible,” Joel added, brimming with confidence.

At the other end of the table, Ian watched Eleanor, who was now the center of attention.

The woman presenting in front of the military-grade holographic display barely resembled the version of her he remembered.

“Mr. Goodwin?” Byron whispered. “If we go ahead with this, we’ll need Miss Sutton working at Meridian Dynamics for two months.”

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