No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1201

"Can he hold on?" Ian asked, his voice low.

"Our team has stabilized him for now, but we don't know for how long. The research needs to speed up."

"I know what to do," Ian said, rubbing his temples.

On the other end, Principal Maxwell seemed to let out a sigh of relief. "Then—I'll leave Eleanor to you."

After hanging up, Ian glanced back at the closed door of the break room, his expression profound.

Eleanor's anger from moments ago felt like a fine needle piercing his heart. He knew that the already fragile trust between them had been shattered even further by this incident.

Ten minutes later, Ian heard the break room door open from the inside. Eleanor was looking down, adjusting her collar and slightly disheveled hair. She had the calm that often follows an emotional breakdown, but it was only on the surface. Her eyes still betrayed a deep anxiety and unease.

"Is your head still spinning?" Ian asked, immediately walking over.

Eleanor looked up at him. "Could you please take me back to the lab?"

Ian's heart ached slightly. He knew she wasn't over the pain; she had simply chosen to suppress all her grief and anger to face the situation calmly.

"Alright," Ian replied in a low voice, walking to his desk to grab his car keys.

The two of them left the office, one after the other, and took Ian's private elevator directly down to the underground garage, where Gavin was already waiting with the car.

Putting herself in his shoes, Ian was innocent. He had even been working silently to save Mansfield. He was the one who had forcefully brought her back to the neural interface team, pushing back against the board's power struggles and opposition, and adding a fifty-billion-dollar investment to the project.

Earlier, she had been blinded by her emotions, unleashing all her fury on him, accusing and resenting him. Only now did she realize that he, too, was passively bearing the pressure of this whole situation.

He currently controlled the most advanced neural interface research technology in the country. Even if Garth wanted to save his son, he couldn't just commandeer a national research team. As the head of a private enterprise, Ian was the most suitable and capable person to advance this cause.

With a soft chime, the elevator doors opened, but Eleanor didn't step inside immediately.

She turned around, looked up at the silent man beside her, and called his name softly, "Ian—I'm sorry about earlier."