No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 913

Eleanor was taken aback. "It's fine, Gavin. You can go home."

But Gavin shook his head. "Mr. Goodwin insisted. He said you've been working too hard and shouldn't drive while fatigued."

Eleanor was, in fact, exhausted. She had felt dizzy when she stood up earlier. It was better not to push her luck.

"Thank you, Gavin," she said, accepting his offer.

It was after ten when she finally got home. As she walked in, Joslyn rushed over to take her bag. "Ma'am, you're back so late."

Eleanor noticed the silence and immediately asked, "Where's Evelyn? Isn't she back yet?"

"Mr. Goodwin took her downstairs to play. They should be up any minute now," Joslyn explained.

Eleanor then realized Princess was gone too. Ian must have taken them both out.

"I'm going to take a shower," she told Joslyn. "In ten minutes, go downstairs and knock on his door. Tell him to bring Evelyn up."

"Of course," Joslyn nodded.

Eleanor went upstairs to wash up.

Twenty minutes later, her hair dry and dressed in a comfortable cotton pajama set, she was applying skincare at her vanity when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Assuming it was her daughter, she smiled, ready to read her a bedtime story.

The bedroom door opened. She turned with a smile, but it froze on her face when she saw who walked in.

It was Ian, carrying their sleeping daughter in his arms.

Ian stood in silence for a few moments, as if wanting to say more, but in the end, he just nodded. "Alright. Get some rest."

He glanced at their daughter's peaceful face on the bed, then quickly looked back at Eleanor before turning to leave. With his hand on the doorknob, he paused. "I'll take Evelyn to school tomorrow."

Then, he quietly opened the door and left.

Eleanor let out a breath and took off the robe, returning to her skincare routine. Under the soft light, her thick, dark hair framed a face with delicate features and eyes that held a cool, clear depth.

After she was done, she turned off the main lights, leaving only a dim night light on. She picked up her phone, planning to read the news to help her fall asleep. She saw a headline about Garth Ellington's diplomatic trip abroad, which made her think of Mansfield, on a mission in a foreign country.

His current work was so sensitive that she couldn't even send a simple message to check on him, for fear of compromising his safety. The urge to reach out was strong, but she forced it down.