No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 574

8:00 p.m.

Xavier arrived right on time to pick Vivian up. He brought flowers—not roses, but a simple bouquet of lilies.

“I noticed your vase was empty, so I thought I’d bring you some,” he said, handing them to her.

Eleanor saw he’d already made the gesture and couldn’t refuse, so she took the bouquet and arranged the flowers at home.

—

The weekend slipped by in a blink.

Monday.

Goodwin & Co. Headquarters.

A hastily arranged board meeting was underway.

Several senior shareholders whispered among themselves, while at the side of the chairman’s seat sat a middle-aged man, his expression stern. This was Marcus, current Executive Vice President of Goodwin & Co.

At that moment, Ian entered, dressed in a sharp black suit, exuding a commanding presence as he strode directly to the head of the table.

Marcus cleared his throat and spoke first. “Mr. Goodwin, it’s not that we doubt your abilities. But the investment in the neural interface project is enormous, and we don’t see any short-term returns. All the shareholders want to see the company move forward on steadier ground.”

Jacques, Ian’s uncle, spoke up, taking the lead. “Ian, we insist on forming an oversight committee. This is a unanimous decision after much discussion among the shareholders.”

“That’s right, Ian. It’s not that we don’t trust you—we have every confidence in your abilities. But too often, decisions seem to be made unilaterally, and we feel left in the dark,” another veteran shareholder added.

Ian’s long fingers tapped lightly against the table as his gaze flicked over each shareholder, finally settling on Marcus. “An oversight committee?” His voice was calm, but the air in the room seemed to grow heavier. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“Ian, the board has every right to raise objections—unless you can get Meridian Dynamics to deliver a detailed three-year development plan for the neural interface project. We need to see precise data, from technical milestones to profitability forecasts,” Jacques pressed.

“Mr. Goodwin, all the shareholders want is a plan for the next three years. Show us some tangible progress, and we can talk about further funding,” Marcus added coolly.

Ian leaned back, a cold smile playing at his lips. “You’re questioning my vision?”

Marcus, knowing Ian all too well, recognized the warning signs. He forced a laugh. “Of course not. Your judgment has always been impeccable.”

But the other shareholders looked anything but amused. They’d come prepared this time, united in their demand for a plan—because, for the first time, they truly felt threatened.

“Ian, it’s not about trust. Last time you pulled the plug on Medisys Group’s IPO, and now you’re pouring resources into the neural interface project. Don’t we, as shareholders, have a right to speak up?”

“That’s right! It’s our money on the line, too. Why shouldn’t we have a say?” an elderly shareholder huffed.

Ian could see the resolve in their eyes. He didn’t respond right away.

After a tense silence, Marcus finally said, “Let’s give Mr. Goodwin a few days. That’s all for today, everyone.”

Ian was the first to stand and leave the boardroom. Gavin was waiting in his office with documents for him to sign. As Ian strode in, radiating a chilling intensity, he yanked off his tie and tossed the expensive silk onto the sofa.

“Mr. Goodwin—” Gavin ventured hesitantly.

“I need a minute,” Ian said, his tone low.

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