No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 358

Eleanor paused for a moment, caught off guard that Ian remembered such a small detail.

She nodded politely to Professor Blake. “Back then, I only published part of the theory for academic discussion.”

Professor Blake hurried to respond, “Miss Sutton, we must have a proper conversation soon! My team and I are following your work closely—we’re working on similar research.”

Eleanor smiled. “I’d be honored.”

Then, Ian smoothly steered the conversation back to the topic of joint tactical cooperation, and Byron picked up the thread about the Meridian Dynamics project.

But Eleanor’s poised and articulate manner had already made its mark—everyone present now took notice of her, and she left a deep impression.

Faye’s fingers tightened around her wine glass.

Gwenda, on the other hand, was so anxious she barely dared to reach for her fork. The lobster sitting in front of her went untouched.

The pressure from this room full of academic giants was suffocating.

She couldn’t help but admire Eleanor for handling herself with such calm confidence in front of these people. Having a father who’s a respected scholar really does make a difference!

Only Joel, quietly observant, noticed that while Ian seemed to sit idly at one side, in truth, he was carefully introducing Eleanor to all the right people.

Joel couldn’t guess Ian’s motives, but at least he could see they were good.

Eleanor excused herself and headed to the restroom. A moment later, Faye followed.

Inside, Eleanor let out a quiet breath, her composure slipping just a little. She was lost in thought when Faye’s voice suddenly sounded behind her. “Feeling pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you? Getting Mr. Goodwin to clear the way for you, making introductions.”

Eleanor turned, her gaze steady. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“But you,” Eleanor’s eyes swept over her with contempt, “you’re so obsessed with my private life, maybe you should ask yourself why you can’t even publish a decent paper of your own.”

“You!” Faye was trembling with rage.

Eleanor’s words hit her exactly where it hurt.

Faye glared at her, voice venomous. “Don’t think this means you’ve won!”

Eleanor gave a soft, dismissive laugh. “There’s never been a competition between us. Because…” She brushed past Faye, her voice icy as she glanced back, “you’re not even qualified to be my rival.”

“What did you say?” Faye shrieked, her voice cracking with anger.

But Eleanor was already gone.