No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 601

Ian suddenly stood up and walked over to the window, his gaze fixed on the blurred world outside, his emotions impossible to read.

“Ian,” Xavier said softly, “if you still care about her, let her live her own life.”

Ian didn’t answer at first. After a moment, he replied quietly, “I haven’t interfered with anything.” He turned around, his expression complex as he looked at Xavier. “Are you serious about this?”

“I am,” Xavier answered without hesitation.

After more than twenty years as friends, it wasn’t hard to guess what the other was thinking.

They locked eyes for a moment before Ian nodded. “I’ll respect any choice she makes.”

With that, he grabbed the overcoat slung over the back of his chair and draped it over his arm. “Take care of yourself and get some rest. I’ll check in on you again in a couple of days.”

At the door, he paused. “But this concerns the safety of my child’s mother. I’ll have someone look into that driver.”

Xavier was caught off guard. Before he could say anything, Ian had already pushed open the door and left. Xavier frowned, thinking to himself: Ian keeps saying he respects Eleanor’s choices, yet he can’t help interfering in every part of her life.

Meanwhile, Eleanor was resting at home, still an hour away from picking up her daughter. Joslyn, the housekeeper, noticed Princess—Eleanor’s golden retriever—whining at the door, as if sensing someone familiar outside.

There weren’t many people Princess welcomed so enthusiastically; Joslyn had a pretty good guess who it was. Right on cue, the doorbell rang.

Eleanor was resting upstairs, and Joslyn didn’t want to disturb her, but she figured she ought to greet Mr. Goodwin herself.

She grabbed an umbrella and stepped outside. When she opened the door, she found Ian standing in the rain, drenched from head to toe, looking far more exhausted than usual.

“Is Eleanor home?” Ian asked.

Joslyn was startled. He looked worn out, the rain darkening his hair and suit, the usual sharpness in his eyes dulled by fatigue.

“Mrs. Goodwin is resting upstairs. Mr. Goodwin, do you—” Joslyn hesitated, unsure whether to invite him in.

“I need to speak with her.” Ian glanced up toward the second floor.

Joslyn, feeling a pang of sympathy, nodded. “Please come inside and get out of the rain. You’ll catch a cold standing out here like this.”

Ian didn’t protest. He strode through the garden and into the foyer; Joslyn quickly fetched him a pair of slippers.

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