No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 265

Eleanor kept her eyes on the road, hands steady at the wheel. In the back seat, Ian cradled their daughter, listening as the little girl piped up in her sweet, babyish voice, “Daddy, did Miss Vanessa teach you to play piano?”

Ian let out a low chuckle. “No, she didn’t,” he replied.

“Then who taught you?”

“I taught myself,” Ian said simply.

Eleanor’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He’d taught himself piano for Vanessa?

All these years, from the day they married until now, she’d always believed Ian wasn’t the romantic type. But now she realized the truth: he simply wasn’t romantic for someone he didn’t love.

She pulled up in front of the house, parked, and got out to lift her daughter from the car seat. Unlocking the front gate, she set the little girl down, who dashed off into the yard, giggling.

Eleanor blocked the gate, turning to Ian as he stepped out. “You should go home,” she said, her tone firm.

The Goodwin family’s estate was only a fifteen-minute walk away—close enough for a stroll.

Ian hesitated at the gate. “There’s a joint company meeting tomorrow,” he said suddenly. “If you have time, you should come.”

Eleanor frowned, but Ian had already turned, heading off toward the glow of the streetlights.

She watched his retreating figure with a twist of frustration. She’d thought divorce would set her free from him, but it was clear now—there was no escaping the ties that bound them. Their daughter, the company, her work—everything seemed to circle back to this man.

Eleanor exhaled slowly. She needed to keep her emotions in check, to build a firewall between herself and Ian. From now on, she wouldn’t let him affect her, not even a little.

That night, Eleanor logged into a video call with Ellington. When the subject of tomorrow’s joint meeting came up, Ellington urged her to attend. Her eight companies had just completed a resource integration, and as the acting CEO, she needed to make an appearance at such a formal occasion.

Each company presented their reports, and Ellington spoke on behalf of Eleanor’s team.

Throughout, Ian barely glanced Eleanor’s way, remaining the picture of an impartial decision-maker.

When Ellington began presenting third-quarter market forecasts, Jacques abruptly raised his hand, cutting him off.

“These numbers look way off to me,” Jacques declared. “According to Goodwin & Co.’s market research, comparable hotel brands aren’t going to see more than a twelve percent growth this fall. You’re projecting eighteen percent. Don’t you think that’s a little overconfident?”

Ellington kept his composure. “Our projections are based on our growth curve from the past three years.”

Jacques smirked. “That might have held when people were splurging after the lockdowns, but the market’s stabilized now.”

He turned pointedly to Eleanor. “Ms. Sutton, you’re still very young. If your team can’t even get the basic data right, I doubt we’ll be able to keep working together.”