No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 624

Byron’s eyes flicked over to Ian, and he gave an awkward smile. “You should really thank Mr. Goodwin—it was all his suggestion.”

The gratitude in Eleanor’s eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden chill. She said nothing.

Faye seized the moment. “Eleanor, don’t you think you’re being a little rude?”

Eleanor lifted her gaze to Faye, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly. Still, she remained silent.

But Faye could feel the air of superiority radiate from Eleanor. A flash of resentment surged within her—what gave Eleanor the right to act like this? Who was she to carry herself with so much confidence?

Byron cleared his throat. “Alright, that wraps up the meeting. Everyone, back to work.”

“Eleanor, stay for a few words.” Ian’s voice was low and steady.

Eleanor acted as if she hadn’t heard him. She gathered her files and strode toward the door. Suddenly, the entire room seemed to freeze; everyone else quickly finished packing up, eager to escape the tension.

Within moments, the conference room was deserted except for Ian. He sat there, brows furrowed, absently rubbing the edge of the bandage on his hand, his gaze fixed on the door, lost in thought.

A short while later, Byron poked his head in. “Mr. Goodwin, would you like to join me in my office for some tea?”

Ian rose, his expression cold and unreadable once more. “No need. Let’s move forward with preparations for the research facility as soon as possible.”

“Understood.” Byron quietly left.

Eleanor returned to her office, rubbing her temples in frustration. Just then, the door swung open. Ian’s tall frame filled the doorway.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just five minutes.”

Eleanor slammed her file down on the desk. “There’s nothing to talk about. Don’t waste my time.”

She got up and headed for the door, but as she stepped out, Ian caught her wrist in a firm grip. “It’ll only take five minutes,” he insisted.

“Let go.” Eleanor twisted, trying to yank her arm free, but Ian’s hold was unyielding. After several futile attempts, anger flared inside her. She raised her right hand and slapped him hard across his strikingly handsome face.

The sharp crack of the slap echoed down the hallway.

Ian’s head snapped to the side, a vivid red mark blooming on his cheek.

A few yards away, Faye and two assistants were walking and chatting. They stopped in shock, staring in disbelief.

The assistants clapped their hands over their mouths, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

Oh my God! Did Eleanor just slap Mr. Goodwin?

Eleanor finally wrenched her hand free, fighting the sting in her palm. Without a backward glance, she walked away.

Ian stood rooted to the spot, watching her retreat, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“Enough.”

A man’s voice rang out just in time. Joel Kingsley strode over, grabbing Faye’s wrist and yanking her back. She stumbled, glaring at Joel, her expression wounded.

He stepped between her and Eleanor. “This is a workplace, not your personal stage.”

Faye stared at him, outraged. She’d been provoked into lashing out, but before she could even touch Eleanor, Joel had forcibly pulled her away.

The two assistants quickly took Faye’s arms and led her out.

Eleanor gave Joel a nod. “Thanks, Joel.”

“I heard you just slapped Mr. Goodwin,” Joel said, searching her face. “Is it true?”

Eleanor’s expression was calm. “It is.”

Joel looked stunned. He couldn’t help but wonder—just what kind of mess had Eleanor and Ian gotten themselves into now?

Could it be that Ian regretted the divorce? Was he trying to worm his way back into Eleanor’s life, hoping for a reconciliation?

“Eleanor,” Joel said quietly, “have you ever thought about getting back together with Ian for the sake of your child?”