No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 943

Just then, a large, well-defined hand reached out and firmly pressed down on Vanessa's arm. The pressure wasn't great, but it carried an undeniable strength.

"Don't move," Ian's low, cold voice commanded.

Vanessa's other hand immediately shot out to grab his arm. She looked up, her face streaked with tears, her voice trembling and wounded. "Ian—please, don't. It hurts so much. Can we stop? There has to be another way."

Ian's brow furrowed. "Do you think this is a game? Stay still."

"But I'm really scared—can we please just stop?" Vanessa pleaded, her voice choked with sobs as she tried to win his sympathy.

Ian's expression remained unchanged. He didn't even look down at her. He simply said to the nurse, "Continue."

Those two words cut through Vanessa's every pretense and fantasy like a knife. She stared in disbelief at his hard profile, at the deep, intimidating eyes that held not a single shred of pity for her pain.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, Vanessa saw a figure standing silently outside the phlebotomy room's large glass window—Eleanor.

She had clearly been there for a while, holding a cup of coffee. Her face showed signs of fatigue, but her eyes were clear and sharp, as if she could see through everything happening inside the room.

Eleanor just stood there, her quiet presence more humiliating than any words of mockery could ever be. All of Vanessa's carefully laid plans, all her attempts to create the illusion that Ian cared for her, had just become a monumental joke in the face of this scene: Ian himself holding her down while a nurse drew her blood.

Ian walked over to her, his voice devoid of warmth. "I'll have Gavin take you home. Get some rest."

Vanessa slowly lifted her head, her eyes bloodshot and filled with a wild despair. She let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Is that it, Ian? Use me and then throw me away?"

Her ragged cry startled the nurses and Dr. Smith, who had never seen this unhinged side of her.

Ian looked down at her, his expression free of guilt, his eyes holding only a cold warning. "This was a transaction from the beginning. Don't forget your place—or your promises."

With that, he turned and strode out of the room.