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No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1330

Summary for Chapter 1330: No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor)

Chapter summary: Chapter 1330 from the book No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) by Harper Laine

Discover the most important events of Chapter 1330, a chapter full of surprises in the acclaimed novel No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor). With the engaging writing of Harper Laine, this Romance masterpiece continues to thrill and captivate with every page.

He took the pills and swallowed them with the water. Then, his eyes lifted to Eleanor's face as he said softly, "Thank you."

Eleanor disposed of the paper cup and placed the box of medicine in his hand. "You should take this home with you."

She got back in the car and drove into the building's underground parking garage. Ian closed his eyes again, looking as if he had drifted off to sleep.

By the time Eleanor parked, Ian was slowly opening his eyes. The pain in his stomach seemed to have subsided.

He pushed open the car door and got out. They walked toward the elevator together.

"Eleanor, thank you for tonight," Ian said in a low, earnest tone.

"You're welcome," Eleanor replied, pursing her lips. It didn't matter if it was him, Joel, or any other passenger; she would have done the same.

Ian looked at her, a torrent of emotions in his eyes. It was clear he understood her actions were born of basic human decency, nothing more.

Inside the confines of the elevator, with just the two of them, Ian leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on Eleanor. A deep, nostalgic longing gradually surfaced in his hazy eyes.

The elevator doors opened. They had reached the twenty-seventh floor.

Ian straightened up. As he stepped out, he seemed to want to say something more, but in the end, all that came out was a quiet, "Good night."

Eleanor said nothing as the elevator doors closed.

After returning to her apartment, Eleanor played with Princess for a while before heading upstairs to shower. She felt as though the faint scent of alcohol had clung to her.

With her daughter away for the night, she could enjoy a quiet evening reading a book or doing something for herself, like putting on a face mask.

Downstairs, Ian stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his own apartment, gazing out at the city lights, the box of Mylanta still clutched in his hand.

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