No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 888

On the other end of the line, Henry's mother couldn't hide the pleasure in her voice at her son's proactive question. "Just pick out something nice. We don't want to be rude."

"Alright, I'll get some good wine," Henry said.

"As long as you show up, that's all that matters," his mother replied, thrilled that her son was finally taking the initiative to attend the Quigley family patriarch's birthday celebration.

"I know," Henry said and hung up. An image of Selma Quigley's face flashed in his mind. After what had happened that night, even though she hadn't demanded anything, he felt a sense of responsibility. He had taken her first time, after all. If he did nothing, he'd be nothing but a scumbag.

In Vanessa's car, Laverne noticed the bruise forming where the needle had been. "Why did they take so many vials of blood this time?" she asked, concerned.

Vanessa's expression was grim. "This check-up was more comprehensive," she said curtly.

"I feel so bad for you, having to go through this every year," Laverne said. Though Vanessa claimed it was just a routine physical, Laverne suspected it was something more. But if Vanessa wouldn't talk, she couldn't ask. "Were you happy with the photos I took? Your fans are going crazy with worry. You're already trending."

Vanessa picked up her phone and saw that the post had indeed gone viral, with her feed flooded with messages of concern. The photo perfectly captured her fragile beauty. She didn't say anything. The point of the post wasn't to garner sympathy from her fans. In the age of big data, the people who were meant to see it, would. A small smile touched her lips.

Her thoughts returned to Henry's phone call. In the six years she had known him, this was the first time he had turned her down for someone else. She remembered him mentioning his family was setting him up on dates. Then she recalled the girl she had seen him with at the gala—she must be the one his family had chosen. Vanessa bit her lip, her face darkening.

"Miss Sutton, you're here," Dr. Smith greeted her warmly. His core team, who had already built a rapport with Eleanor, quickly got to work.

Eleanor spent the entire morning immersed in her research. At noon, Dr. Smith approached her. "I've booked a table at the restaurant across the street. Let's have lunch together."

Eleanor, who needed to discuss some things with him anyway, agreed. "Great, thank you."

But as she and Dr. Smith walked into the restaurant's private room, the smile on her face froze. Ian was already there, seated at the head of the table, looking at a tablet. He looked up as they entered, and a flicker of a smile crossed his lips when he saw her.