No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 842

The moment the words left Serena's mouth, Magdalen's expression hardened. "Serena, eat your dinner. Evelyn is right here!"

Serena glanced at her little niece, who was indeed watching her from across the table. She sullenly lowered her head and picked at her food, a defiant look still lingering on her face. She hadn't noticed the girl earlier, but she was still annoyed. It had been two years since Eleanor and her brother had divorced, yet the topic was still taboo in this house. What was the big deal? Getting a divorce wasn't something to be ashamed of.

Her grandmother forbade it, her mother forbade it, and even her brother's face would darken as if she'd committed a cardinal sin.

Eleanor placed some vegetables on her daughter's plate. "Let's eat, Magdalen," she said calmly.

Magdalen, still fuming, was relieved to see Eleanor unaffected. But that only meant one thing: Eleanor truly had no interest in her grandson anymore.

Under the warm dining room lights, Eleanor's mind was untroubled by such trivial matters. The discovery she'd made tonight was far more significant than Ian's affair with Vanessa. Her gaze drifted back to Serena, seemingly by chance. As Serena bent over her plate, Eleanor noticed a small, faint bruise on her arm. It didn't look like it was from a bump; it resembled subcutaneous bleeding.

Serena ate a few bites, then set down her fork, looking listless. "Grandma, I'm full."

"How can you be? You've barely touched your food! I had them steam your favorite sea bass," Magdalen noted with concern.

"I just don't have an appetite. Besides, I'm on a diet," Serena mumbled, grabbing her phone and retreating to the living room couch to scroll through it, clearly wanting to put some distance between herself and Eleanor.

Ian's urgent trip abroad with his mother now made sense. Gina's illness must have flared up, requiring treatment at the Smith Lab and a new round of stem cell infusions. Eleanor recalled the confidential patient Dr. Smith had mentioned once—she guessed now that it was Gina. She remembered him saying the patient had a good son. He must have been referring to Ian.

Building a global hematology lab just to save his mother—that was indeed the work of a good son. But right now, Eleanor was grateful for Ian's investment, as that same research might one day protect her own daughter.

She glanced at the couch, where Serena was laughing at a short video on her phone. Yes, and it could protect his sister, too.

Serena had just stumbled upon a video posted by Vanessa's studio. In the clip, Vanessa stood on a hotel balcony in a slinky slip dress, bathed in the light of the rising sun. She looked at the camera, her hair artfully tousled by the morning breeze, her eyes and lips exuding a lazy, satisfied glow.