No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1245

Ian frowned slightly. He hadn't told her that to get another 'thank you' from her. He just wanted her to know that the chip would be delivered as soon as possible, so she wouldn't have to have any more nightmares.

Eleanor poured herself a glass of water, then took a disposable cup and filled it for him. She carried it over to him.

Ian took it naturally. Eleanor walked to the sofa, picked up her phone, and first replied to Joslyn's message before ordering takeout from a nearby restaurant. She looked at the man on the sofa and said, "I'm going upstairs to work for a bit. If the food arrives, could you get it?"

"Of course," Ian nodded.

Eleanor went upstairs with her glass of water, her long, waist-length hair flowing behind her. Still recovering from the fever, her steps were a bit unsteady, and her slender back looked frail in the oversized T-shirt.

This woman who looked so breakable was the one person who could turn the entire tech world on its head.

Who would have thought that the woman who was just running a fever, so distressed by a nightmare that she cried in her sleep, was the lead developer of the world's most advanced Neural Interface Project?

Even he, in this moment, was struck with awe.

The wife who used to be so playful and childlike in his arms had been hiding such genius. If…

If he hadn't agreed to marry her back then, she would have already made a name for herself in the world of scientific research.

In truth, he had initially refused.

He had been a twenty-year-old man who had just lost his father and barely emerged from a deep coma. He had taken over a corporate empire on the verge of collapse, battling internal factions and fending off powerful external rivals. On top of that, his mother was gravely ill. At the time, he was being watched by countless eyes, suffocating under the immense pressure and responsibility.

He could barely keep his own head above water. How could he have the energy or confidence to start a marriage?

He remembered that afternoon in the hospital garden. Freshly awakened, he sat in the sun, quietly observing the vibrant girl before him. She exuded the sweet freshness of a summer spring, her eyes clear and innocent, her smile disarmingly pure and healing.

She gave people hope and made them yearn for something more.

This secret crush, which began in a library, was something he had never told anyone, not even Eleanor.

That was why he had once told Eleanor that he was the one who fell first.

Behind those words were six months of a silent, secret flutter in his heart that he could never speak of.

But back then, his world was in shambles. His future was uncertain, and he carried the fate of the entire company and his mother's life on his shoulders. He couldn't give her happiness; he might even drag her down into the mire with him.

But fate worked in mysterious ways.

No matter how ruthless or cold a person tried to be, they could never refuse something their heart truly desired.

He was no exception.