No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 553

Eleanor had just slid into the back seat when her phone buzzed—Ellington’s name flashed on the screen. She answered, “Hey, Ellington.”

“Ms. Sutton, you haven’t left yet, have you?” Ellington’s voice came through, tight with urgency.

“I’m just outside.”

“Could you come back for a moment? There’s something urgent I need to discuss with you about the investment project.”

Eleanor glanced at her watch. She was free that afternoon anyway. “Alright, I’ll head up now.”

“I’ll be in the small conference room on the eighth floor,” he added.

She retraced her steps into the lobby, glancing up at the second-floor balcony. Xavier and Henry were gone—probably left already, or maybe headed out for coffee together.

As she rode the elevator up, Eleanor mulled over what could have prompted Ellington to call her back. Investments were usually his territory; after all, she was juggling not just the hotel group, but five other companies outside the hospitality industry. With the portfolio’s steady performers, there was always excess capital needing management.

On the eighth floor, Ellington’s assistant nearly jogged over to greet her. “Ms. Sutton, you’re here—this way, please.”

Eleanor nodded and followed her to the conference room. The assistant pushed open the door, and Eleanor immediately spotted a tall, lean figure lounging on the sleek leather sofa.

Ian.

The polite smile faded from Eleanor’s face, replaced by a flicker of cold hostility in her eyes. What was he doing here?

Ellington noticed her reaction and hurried over with an awkward smile. “Ms. Sutton, thanks for coming.”

She shot him a sharp look. He knew how much she hated seeing this man—why would he set this up?

Ellington looked a little embarrassed, but the gravity of the situation overrode his discomfort. He gestured to the seats. “Please, have a seat. I’ll explain everything in just a moment.”

Her annoyance didn’t escape Ian, who leaned forward, picked up his cup, and took a slow sip. His gaze was calm, almost indifferent, as he watched her.

He kept glancing nervously toward the conference room, worried that Mr. Goodwin would lose patience and leave.

Eleanor frowned. Ian’s offer was an irresistible temptation, no doubt—but she hated being tied to him or his company, and she resented how blatantly he was trying to maneuver her.

“Ellington, I know things between Mr. Goodwin and me have been… complicated since the divorce. But—” She hesitated, biting her lip. “I’ll talk to him. Wait for me outside.”

“Of course.” Ellington stopped himself from saying more; he knew better than to push her.

Eleanor reentered the conference room. Ian was still there, his posture relaxed, teacup poised like he was at some casual afternoon gathering, not a high-stakes negotiation.

“Let’s drop the act. What’s your real agenda?” she said, cutting straight to the point.

Ian took another sip, unfazed. “I’m only offering shares to my shareholders. You’re one of them, so naturally, you get a piece.”

Eleanor didn’t buy it for a second. She knew all too well that with Ian, every seeming act of generosity came with a hidden catch. Six years of marriage had taught her more than the pain of betrayal—it had shown her just how calculating this man could be.