No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1086

Around seven, Eleanor returned home to find a full dinner prepared by Joslyn. She had originally planned to eat with Mansfield at the hospital, but he insisted she go home to be with her daughter, a gesture for which Eleanor was very grateful.

"Mommy!" Evelyn rushed over to hug her. Eleanor's gaze fell on Ian, who was on the sofa with their daughter, and she offered him a thankful glance. Just then, Princess bounded over excitedly, and Eleanor knelt to pet her.

Ian's eyes lingered on Eleanor. Under the warm lights, her face held a soft radiance that was different from before—it was the glow of a woman in love.

Eleanor playfully cooed at Princess and gave her a kiss. "Alright, I'm going to wash my hands."

Joslyn, carrying a dish out from the kitchen, noticed the change in Eleanor as well. She seemed different tonight, more like the Eleanor from four years ago, whose eyes would light up with a love for life.

Back then, that Eleanor was by Mr. Goodwin's side. Joslyn sensed that Eleanor must be in a new relationship.

But with whom? Mr. Vaughn? Or Mr. Ellington?

As Eleanor headed to the washroom, Evelyn ran to the sofa and tugged on Ian's arm. "Daddy, it's time for dinner!"

Ian pulled his gaze away, suppressing the turmoil in his heart. "Okay, Daddy will eat with you."

Soon, Eleanor returned and sat down, happily serving food for her daughter. Her joy was palpable; she looked exactly like someone who had just come back from a date.

Eleanor felt a pair of eyes on her and looked up at the man across the table, her own expression clear and open. "Let's eat."

Ian's grip on his fork tightened slightly. Joslyn had made two of his favorite dishes tonight, yet he found he had no appetite. He took a bite of the sea bass he usually loved, but it tasted bland and flavorless, with a hint of bitterness.

"I have to go. I have something to do," Ian said, putting down his fork. He looked at his daughter. "Daddy will come pick you up tomorrow morning."

Joslyn looked at him with some regret. "Mr. Goodwin, please have some more."

Ian stepped into the empty living room, lit only by the entryway lamp, which cast his long, solitary shadow across the floor.

He tossed his jacket onto the sofa and walked to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a whiskey. The cold liquid burned its way down his throat, but it couldn't seem to extinguish the searing pain in his chest.

With his drink, he moved to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the cityscape shimmered, a galaxy of artificial stars. But as he looked out, it was as if all the light had gone out of his world.

Suddenly, an unforecasted spring rain began to patter against the glass.

A bolt of lightning tore across the night sky, illuminating his gray-white hair, the sharp angles of his brow, and the sharp, hidden pain in his eyes.

In that instant, the man was like a beast trapped in a cage, in agony but without even the right to roar.