No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 439

Eleanor spent two hours that afternoon in the lab, patiently answering Callie’s thoughtful questions about some complex issues. Callie took the opportunity to learn as much as he could.

He couldn’t help but think of what Faye had pulled last time—he really wanted to warn Eleanor to be careful around her.

“Eleanor, how are things between you and Faye?” Callie asked, trying to sound casual.

“Not much of anything,” Eleanor replied honestly.

Since Faye was now at Meridian Dynamics and no longer involved with Eleanor’s projects, Callie decided to let it drop.

Before the end of the workday, Simone called Eleanor into her office. She brought up Ian’s acquisition of Everprosper Biotech, mentioning that three of their patents would be necessary for Eleanor’s upcoming research.

Eleanor nodded. Ian had said earlier that the patent rights would be transferred to the lab next week—no need to worry.

“Ian’s been pouring a fortune into your project,” Simone commented. “He’s clearly sparing no expense. I heard negotiations with Everprosper are deadlocked—their asking price is way above market value.”

Eleanor almost laughed. This project was meant to save Vanessa Shannon; of course Ian would pay any price. Compared to the life of his “one and only,” what did money matter to him?

He was far better at making money than spending it, anyway.

“So let’s just focus on the research and try not to let him down,” Simone encouraged. “I’ll shield you from any pressure about the timeline—real science needs room to breathe.”

Eleanor nodded and, after leaving Simone’s office, realized it was time to pick up her daughter from school.

When she arrived at the preschool, Eleanor spotted her daughter playing on the playground with Vivian. But it wasn’t a nanny or Xavier picking up Vivian today—it was a well-dressed, elegant woman. Judging by her age and resemblance, Eleanor guessed this was Xavier’s mother.

As Eleanor approached, Vivian’s face lit up. “Ms. Sutton!”

Henrietta, who’d been watching her granddaughter, looked up at the sound of Vivian’s greeting, her eyes appraising Eleanor.

Eleanor wore a simple white blouse and jeans, her long hair loosely gathered. She exuded a graceful, intelligent air—so different from what Henrietta had expected.

Serena’s stories had painted Eleanor as some manipulative seductress, but the young woman walking toward her seemed bright, composed, and quietly beautiful.

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