No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 996

The phone rang for seven seconds before it was answered. Vanessa's usual lazy, charming voice came through. "Hello, Henry? What's up? Calling so late."

Half an hour ago, that voice would have melted Henry's heart. Now, it just made him sick to his stomach.

So sick, in fact, that he clenched his fist, pulled the phone away from his ear, and forcefully ended the call.

Xavier watched, unsurprised. He knew Henry's personality. He wasn't the type to scream and curse at Vanessa over the phone. A clean break was more his style.

"What's wrong? Not going to demand an explanation?" Xavier asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She disgusts me. Right now, all I feel is disgust," Henry said, tossing his phone aside and slumping back onto the sofa. He picked up his glass and downed the liquor in one gulp. "I'm so disgusted I don't even want to say another word to her."

The ultimate form of contempt is when even a single word feels like too much, when the sound of their voice is an insult to your ears.

Henry leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes, his chest heaving. A fire of seven years of pent-up anger burned within him. He didn't want a confrontation or an outlet for his rage. He suddenly felt that any form of conversation with Vanessa was an insult to his intelligence.

She wasn't worth it.

She wasn't worth his anger, his questions, or even a place in his world ever again.

Xavier watched him quietly, understanding. A true ending is never dramatic; it's a silent, indifferent dismissal. Henry's reaction was a clear sign that he had truly woken up and was sweeping Vanessa out of his life for good.

"The fact that Ian didn't tell us about his mother's illness is just part of his personality. He's a proud man. Having to compromise with a woman for his mother's sake isn't something he'd want to publicize. He chose to bear it alone. That's just how he is."

"It seems we've all misjudged him," Henry sighed.

He had spent seven years with Vanessa; he knew what she was like. From the moment he met her, her eyes had a seductive quality. She was an expert at creating illusions. She had approached him as Ian's friend, with a subtle touch of her leg under the table, a flirtatious glance across a crowded room—all the small gestures that made him feel special, as if a girl like her could fall for him at first sight.

Now he realized that all those "accidental" moments were just her casting a wide net. He and Xavier were both fish she had her eye on. He just had the bad luck of being on the hook for seven years.

He had been completely bewitched, willingly playing the part of her backup while watching her play the devoted lover to his best friend. He watched her try to have it both ways, refusing to let go of either of them, and yet he thought his love was so noble.