No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1646

Eleanor offered a soft smile before her expression turned serious. "Nominations for the Nobel Prize have strict rules. You can't nominate yourself; it has to be submitted by highly qualified individuals."

"I know," Ian nodded confidently. "The right to nominate belongs to a very specific group. I've already reached out to a few people. Principal Maxwell and Lyman Brown have both agreed to recommend you. They're absolute titans in the domestic field. But more importantly... guess who else wants to back you?"

Eleanor blinked, catching the mysterious, triumphant gleam in his eyes. A wild thought suddenly struck her, but she didn't dare voice it. Instead, she urged, "Just tell me."

"I think you already guessed it. Your father's mentor, Professor Conrad Jensen."

Eleanor's breath hitched.

That name was legendary in the medical world. Dr. Jensen was a pioneer in neuroscience and one of the few scientists from their country to ever be nominated for the Nobel Prize in Medicine.

More importantly, he had been Elliot Sutton's doctoral advisor.

Eleanor's last memory of him was when he was in his late sixties. The year her father passed away, Dr. Jensen had personally penned a moving eulogy and published it in a top-tier medical journal.

"Dr. Jensen..." Eleanor's voice trembled with emotion. "He has to be almost ninety by now!"

"Ninety-eight," Ian corrected, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "When I had my people reach out to him, the moment he heard you were Elliot Sutton's daughter, he personally asked to set up a meeting with you."

Tears welled up in Eleanor's eyes. "Really?"

"He said your father was his brightest student, and that you are his brightest student's proudest achievement."

Eleanor looked up at Ian and nodded fervently. "Okay. I really want to visit him."

For the next few weeks, Eleanor dedicated all her time to monitoring Mrs. Vaughn's final stages of recovery.

Xavier's mood visibly lightened; the heavy burden he had carried for so long finally seemed to evaporate.

On Friday morning, Ian's private jet was prepped and waiting for Eleanor. They were heading to Fremont City to visit Dr. Jensen.

Staring at the cobblestone path, she could almost picture her young father walking these exact grounds, heading to the professor's house for heated academic debates.

A lump formed in her throat.

"Let's go," Ian said softly, taking her hand.

Time had carved deep lines into the man's face, but his eyes remained razor-sharp, shining with the brilliant intellect of a bygone era.

Seeing this, Eleanor's eyes instantly welled with tears. This was the man her father had revered like a second parent—the man who had written that heartbreaking eulogy.

Dr. Jensen looked up, spotting the young couple standing at his gate. A warm smile broke across his face as his gaze locked onto Eleanor. "Come on in, kiddo."