No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 664

“Evelyn?”

“Are you here to have dinner with us?” Evelyn asked, her eyes full of curiosity.

Serena glanced toward the grand living room, and suddenly, everything clicked. No wonder her brother hadn’t bothered buying the penthouse upstairs—of course, he’d settled for this sprawling apartment. Eleanor lived on the top floor!

“Evelyn, who are you talking to?” Eleanor’s voice floated in from the hallway. Hearing her daughter chatting with someone, she strode quickly to the front door, only to lock eyes with Serena.

Serena froze, momentarily stunned at the sight of Eleanor.

Eleanor, however, remained perfectly composed, her expression frosty. “Miss Goodwin, is there something you need?”

“This is your place?” Serena blurted out, unable to hide her surprise.

“Yes, this is my home,” Eleanor replied coolly.

A dozen questions finally made sense in Serena’s mind. She knelt to meet Evelyn at eye level. “Evelyn, your aunt lives just downstairs. Come visit me whenever you’d like, okay?”

Eleanor’s brows tightened. Serena really was Evelyn’s aunt, so she couldn’t exactly tell her off, not in front of her daughter.

“Okay!” Evelyn nodded enthusiastically.

“Evelyn, go tidy up your toys, please,” Eleanor said, glancing at the scattered mess in the hallway.

Evelyn scampered off obediently.

Standing in the doorway, Eleanor turned to Serena. “If you have no reason to be here, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t disturb us.”

Serena’s face hardened. “You think I want to bother you? I only came up here because I heard Evelyn lived upstairs and thought I’d stop by.”

“In any case, I have custody of Evelyn. I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from her,” Eleanor warned, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The mayor’s wife’s annual charity ball was always a highlight of the social calendar, drawing the city’s elite—and plenty of media attention. Getting an invitation was considered a mark of honor.

Tonight, Eleanor wore a pale blue mermaid gown, her hair falling in loose waves down her back, accentuating her slender neck. As one of the evening’s honored guests, she was careful to strike the perfect balance—elegant, but never ostentatious.

She pulled up to the hotel entrance, where a valet in a crisp uniform hurried over. “Good evening, ma’am. May I park your car for you?”

“Thank you,” Eleanor replied, giving him a polite nod.

A red carpet stretched alongside the entrance for the high-profile guests willing to be interviewed by the press. For those wishing to avoid the spotlight, there was a quieter side entrance leading directly to the ballroom.

Eleanor chose the latter, slipping discreetly through the side hallway. Once inside the grand hall on the second floor, she saw that many of the city’s most recognizable faces were already there—tonight’s performers, she realized. It dawned on her that this “fundraiser” was, in fact, a private concert for the elite.

“Miss Sutton! Your seat is in the second row!” Mrs. Ellington’s sharp-eyed assistant spotted her and hurried over to escort her to her place.