No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1109

Eleanor left the lab at five-thirty. Ian had already messaged her to say he would pick up their daughter.

As Eleanor's car pulled out from the lab, it was followed by the usual two bodyguard vehicles—one from Ian, and the other sent by Mansfield Ellington.

Eleanor sighed. She picked up her phone, thinking of messaging Mansfield, but then remembered his special status and put it back down.

She didn't have any other hopes now; she just wished for his safe return.

When Eleanor got home, her daughter was already back. Ian was helping her practice with a jump rope on the balcony. Evelyn had a frustrated frown on her little face. The simple motion seemed so hard for her to master.

"Mommy, this is so hard!" Evelyn pouted.

"Let Mommy teach you," Eleanor said with a smile, ruffling her daughter's hair. She took the rope and slowly showed her how.

Ian stood by and watched. As Eleanor demonstrated with light, graceful jumps, the man's gaze grew deep and complex, his eyes fixed on a certain part of her—

Eleanor noticed his stare and faltered, stopping abruptly.

"Mommy, you're so good!" Evelyn clapped, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between the two adults.

Eleanor handed the jump rope back to her daughter. "Evelyn, try again. Mommy has to go do some work."

Ian knelt down and patiently guided his daughter. "Evelyn, you need to rotate your wrists like this—"

Joslyn prepared dinner for Ian as usual. It was a nutritious and hearty meal. Eleanor figured that since he had been picking up their daughter recently and lived downstairs anyway, making food for one extra person was no trouble.

Meanwhile, at the restaurant, Vanessa and Laverne arrived right on time. Walden Wells was there, deep in conversation with two other men of a similar age.

Shortly after being seated, Vanessa, with the manager's permission, gracefully walked to the piano. Dressed in a long white gown, she sat down, and as her fingers touched the keys, a beautiful melody filled the air.

The other diners were pleasantly surprised to see a beautiful woman playing the piano so wonderfully.

Many of the men in the room stared, momentarily captivated.

This, of course, included Walden Wells's table. He was visibly taken aback, his gaze drawn to the piano.

Vanessa could tell he was looking. She glanced up at just the right moment, held his eyes, and offered a slight, polite nod and smile.

Walden Wells felt his spirits lift. He summoned a waiter, whispered something, and continued to enjoy the performance.

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