No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 715

The banquet had reached its midpoint when Eleanor glanced at her silenced phone, which she had left on the table. A new message had arrived.

She skimmed it quickly—it was from Mansfield: *“My father thinks very highly of you.”*

Looking up, Eleanor met Mansfield’s gaze across the table. He was smiling, clearly aware that she’d read his message.

Flustered by the warmth in his eyes, Eleanor quickly looked away. Mansfield’s open admiration left her a little at a loss.

Garth, the host, shifted the conversation to the future of medicine and technology, inviting everyone to share their thoughts. Several guests offered opinions, including Eleanor and Ian, and Garth seemed genuinely pleased with the discussion.

At one point, Eleanor excused herself to visit the restroom. On her way back, passing through a quiet hallway, she noticed someone standing on the terrace and instinctively glanced over.

Out on the terrace, the night wind carried a bite of winter cold. Ian stood there, lighting a cigarette; the ember flickered in the shadows as he exhaled. His gaze met Eleanor’s head-on.

He watched her, his calm eyes edged with something almost predatory.

Tonight, Eleanor wore an understated dress with a subtle elegance, as if she’d stepped out of an old oil painting—a look that lingered in the mind after a single glance.

Only their group remained in the restaurant now, making the space feel especially quiet.

Eleanor didn’t linger. She turned and walked back toward the dining room.

Ian didn’t return for another ten minutes. By then, dinner was finished and everyone had moved to the lounge, settling onto a large, U-shaped sofa. The senior Garrison family members made themselves comfortable, and Mansfield, clearly with intent, sat down beside Eleanor.

He seemed the most at ease of anyone here, playing the part of the young host.

Servers brought out a selection of pastries and tea. Mansfield took Eleanor’s cup from her hands and filled it a third of the way. “Try this—see if you like it,” he said, offering the cup back with a smile.

Ian, seated by himself across from them in an armchair, arched an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes, silently studying Eleanor.

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