No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 769

After Ian finished speaking, he rose from his seat, a chill flickering behind his glasses.

The reporters, though brimming with curiosity, didn’t dare press him any further.

As they exited the interview area, Gavin leaned in and murmured, “Mr. Goodwin, I’m sorry—I wasn’t able to stop the reporters earlier—”

“It’s fine,” Ian replied, slipping off his glasses and tucking them neatly into his suit pocket. The coldness faded from his gaze, replaced by something deeper and more inscrutable.

Gavin replayed the interview in his mind. His boss had allowed the reporters to ask their questions but never gave them a straight answer. It was as if Mr. Goodwin wanted them to throw out their theories first, just to let them stew in their own speculation.

Why Mr. Goodwin handled things this way was a mystery Gavin didn’t dare ponder any further.

Back in the lab, Eleanor returned to her workspace, where Gwenda greeted her with a considerate smile and handed her a fresh cup of coffee. Moments later, Eleanor’s phone rang. It was Simone.

“Eleanor, how did the press conference go today?” Simone asked.

“It went really well!” Eleanor replied, her voice bright.

Since Simone hadn’t been able to attend due to personal reasons, Eleanor couldn’t help but ask, “Professor Langley, were you able to take care of your business?”

“All sorted, nothing to worry about,” Simone answered with a warm laugh.

Eleanor, sensing it was private, didn’t press further. After a few more words, they ended the call.

A little later, Eleanor headed to the restroom. As she settled into one of the stalls, footsteps echoed in from the hallway. Faye entered with one of the assistants.

“Faye, I’m so jealous! I can’t believe your application went through so quickly,” the assistant gushed.

Faye watched Eleanor washing her hands, a touch of pride in her tone. “The project I’m heading takes some serious technical muscle. We’re aiming for publication in international journals.”

Eleanor dried her hands, looking utterly uninterested in their conversation.

Faye, not one to let things drop, pressed on. “Eleanor, with three civilian projects spinning off, I’m curious—what do you think?”

Eleanor turned to face her. “I just hope you have the skills to match the resources you’ve been handed.”

Color drained from Faye’s face. “Eleanor, you—”

But by then, Eleanor was already gone. Faye clenched her fists, silently vowing that soon enough, she would make her own mark—one that would rival, if not surpass, Eleanor’s.