No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 113

"I'll come with you. My client gave me tickets, so I'll take you in," Joy said.

Eleanor and Joy had agreed to meet at the entrance of the arena at six. Once they found each other, the two of them headed inside. The stands were already packed, a sea of faces stretching in every direction. Trying to pick out a single person in that crowd was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Do you think Ian might have taken your daughter backstage?" Joy asked.

Eleanor instantly thought of Trent sneaking backstage as well. She pulled out her phone and dialed Trent's number.

"Hello! Mrs. Goodwin."

"Trent, I'm here at the arena. Can you get me backstage?" Eleanor asked urgently.

"Sure, come to Entrance Three. I'll meet you there," Trent replied.

Eleanor made her way to the third hallway entrance. After a short wait, Trent appeared, a staff badge hanging around his neck.

"This way, Mrs. Goodwin," Trent said.

Joy followed them in. At the entrance, Trent checked their IDs and then led them through.

Lowering his voice, Trent explained, "Mr. Goodwin just arrived, too. When you called, he was going into Vanessa's private dressing room."

"Take me there," Eleanor said at once, her heart pounding. Her daughter could be inside.

Backstage was a flurry of activity, with staff hurrying in every direction, heads down, focused on their jobs.

No one paid any attention to Eleanor, Joy, and Trent as he guided them down a quiet hallway. He gestured ahead. "Third door on the left—that's Vanessa's dressing room."

A surge of hope rushed through Eleanor. Ignoring everything else, she strode straight to the third door.

She was sure her daughter would be inside.

Without even knocking, Eleanor grabbed the handle, pushed the door open, and burst in.

"Where's Evelyn?" Eleanor demanded, eyes locked on the elegantly dressed man on the sofa.

"She's with my mother," Ian replied, meeting her gaze.

Just then, Vanessa's manager poked her head in, calling, "Vanessa, we need you to get ready!"

Vanessa turned to Ian with a smile. "You two have a nice chat. I'll go get ready."

As she passed Eleanor, Vanessa's lips curled in a subtle, triumphant smirk, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

Eleanor really did have a knack for timing—she'd walked in at the exact moment Vanessa's hair was caught on Ian's belt.

Even if Ian tried to explain, there was no way to make it sound innocent.

Of course, Eleanor would never believe a word of it.