No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 393

Ian crouched down, his hand reaching for Eleanor’s shoe, but she jerked her foot back, eyes flashing with icy hatred.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped through gritted teeth, her voice full of disdain.

Ian’s hand halted mid-air. He looked up at her, sitting rigidly on the couch. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Eleanor glared at him, bristling like a hedgehog. “I don’t need your help.”

At that moment, Joel stepped into her office, concern etched on his face. “Eleanor, what happened?”

Ian straightened up and turned to Joel. “She hurt her foot. Take her to the hospital.”

Joel’s eyes widened in surprise. Eleanor had seemed perfectly fine in the meeting earlier—how had she gotten injured so suddenly? Had Ian done something when he asked her to stay behind?

As Ian reached the door, a few nosy staff members outside quickly scattered.

With Ian gone, only Eleanor and Joel remained in the office.

Joel knelt down to examine her ankle carefully, brow furrowing. “It’s really swollen. You need to have it checked by a doctor.”

Eleanor shook her head. “It’s just a sprain. Some ice will do the trick.”

Joel gave her a searching look. “Did he do this to you?”

She forced a cold smile. “It doesn’t matter.”

Joel didn’t press further. Instead, he went to the office mini-fridge, grabbed a cold pack, wrapped it in a towel, and gently pressed it to her ankle.

“I’ll drive you home early today so you can rest,” Joel said softly.

“Alright,” Eleanor agreed. There was no way she’d be able to drive herself with her foot in this state.

Later, Byron stopped by to check on her, and even sent his assistant, Laird, to help Eleanor with some paperwork.

That evening, Evelyn gazed worriedly at her mother’s injured foot. “Mom, how did you get hurt?”

Children never let go of anything they’re curious about, and Evelyn was no exception.

Eleanor sighed and spun a little white lie. “I was carrying too many files and twisted my ankle.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened, her voice earnest. “You work too hard, Mom. When I grow up, I’ll make lots of money and take care of you.”

Eleanor’s heart melted. She pulled her daughter into a hug and kissed her forehead. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.”

“Promise!”

Byron granted Eleanor three days of working from home so she could recover.

The next morning, as she was writing a report, her phone buzzed with a string of messages. Eleanor glanced at the screen in surprise—Mansfield Ellington had sent several texts, all asking about her.

“I heard you hurt your foot. Is it serious?”

“Did you see a doctor? What did they say?”

“Did someone hurt you?”

She stared at her phone, momentarily stunned. How did he know about this?

She texted back, “It’s just a mild sprain. I’ll be fine after a few days’ rest, but thank you for checking on me, Mr. Ellington.”

Barely ten seconds after she hit send, her phone rang. Mansfield’s concerned voice came through as soon as she answered. “Eleanor, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m much better now,” she replied, managing a small smile.

“There are still ten days before the holiday. Would it be alright if I came by to see you then?”

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