Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 148: I Don’t Believe Eleanor Is Dead
The friend’s breathing disappeared, and after a long few seconds, his voice finally came through, delayed.
"Sorry. Those blue hats came late. When they went upstairs, that group had already forced the doctor at gunpoint to complete the surgery. When the police went upstairs, the fetus had been removed, and the woman had died of massive hemorrhage."
Mr. Ghost’s vision immediately went dark, as if the excessive blood loss from the wound at the corner of his eye made him dizzy, almost unable to sit steadily, nearly falling off his seat.
Thankfully, the seatbelt pulled him back just a little, leaning against the backrest with difficulty, "How could they possibly be late? The police were late, couldn’t you guys have thought of a damn way to stop them first? President Sinclair gave you all so much money, isn’t it even enough to make you use your damn brains?"
The handset breathed heavily, finally saying only one sentence after a long time, "The woman’s body was left at the hospital, you should come and have a look now."
The call was hung up.
Amid the beeping, Mr. Ghost was furious, the agitation in his chest urging him to smash the phone.
The middle-aged couple in the front seat looked at him in horror, and in his rage and hatred, Mr. Ghost regained a bit of reason, returning the phone.
He rummaged through his pockets and found only the remaining Four Hundred Euros, giving it to the middle-aged couple as fare, asking them to drive as fast as possible to that small hospital.
Two hours later, Mr. Ghost finally arrived, albeit late.
It was five o’clock in the afternoon, and the Froskar sun, emerging late and setting early, had climbed below the horizon.
The hospital door was half-shut, the doctors and nurses had gotten off from work, leaving only a small light in the reception area on the first floor, dimly lit.
Mr. Ghost’s friend stood up, gesturing to him from deep within the dim glow, "The body is in the underground ice cabinet. This hospital, apart from performing abortions, doesn’t do anything else. The ice cabinet is very small, built only for symbolic purposes. It’s the first time the cold air is too much; you’ll have to be careful not to touch it with your hands later, or you’ll freeze together."
Mr. Ghost’s chest violently swelled twice, wanting to curse out loud, but in the end, he remained silent.
He followed his friend down the stairs to the basement.
The ice cabinet, called an ice cabinet, was essentially nothing more than a large refrigerator.
Compared to the large domestic freezers for frozen meat, this was about twice as big.
The friend opened the lid, and indeed, the cold air was sufficient.
The frosty steam was visibly emerging in the air, Mr. Ghost leaned in closer, a human-shaped body bag frozen with white frost flowers, the head wrapped in a transparent film.
Under the film was Eleanor’s face.
Her eyes were shut, pale as paper, and her lips too.
He still couldn’t believe it, raising his hand to pull out the bag.
The friend quickly stopped him, "Are you crazy? Did you forget what I told you?"
Mr. Ghost pushed the friend aside, insisting on personally verifying it.
The friend grabbed his arm, "I know it’s hard to accept at once, but when the woman was bagged, she wasn’t clothed. Don’t you Therasian people value not defiling a corpse? You’ll rip off a layer of skin when your hand freezes to it; that’s defilement too."
Mr. Ghost pressed through his emotions along the way, finally exploding, turning around to slap away, then raised his leg and kicked at his friend’s chest, causing the friend to stumble back, tumbling into the staircase, head over heels.
With a thud, his spine crashed against the edge of a step, whimpered, curling into a ball.
"You must have negotiated this from the start, the death escape didn’t work, so you planned to take her away. What? They have guns, but you don’t?"
He was furious beyond control, "Your boss took three hundred million Euros from President Sinclair, three billion, damn it, you couldn’t protect one pregnant woman? On the way to sell guns, you can shield a car full of weapons right under the police’s nose, now faced with just a few people, you’re unable to carry it through?"
Unable to stand it anymore, he lunged a few steps to the staircase, seizing his friend’s collar and dragging him to the ice cabinet.
"I don’t believe this, you stopping me from seeing that bag, there has to be something fishy inside."
.........
Back in Therasia.
Because of a five-hour time difference with Froskar.
Mr. Grant received a report at ten in the morning, not waiting for the dust to settle.
At two in the afternoon, Damian Sinclair’s response piqued his curiosity once again.
By then, the initial plan was to hold a Grant Group board meeting.
Cillian Grant successfully postponed it.
Those supporting Mr. Grant, however, quickly gathered for a small meeting.
Mr. Grant sitting at the head, Damian Sinclair was engaged in a heated argument with Jason Xavier regarding the share of further investment from the Sinclair Group.
The secretary left outside for him abruptly and rudely barged in.
Damian Sinclair immediately apologized and temporarily left his seat.
The directors present looked at each other, and discussions began to arise.
Recently, Damian Sinclair’s ambition in his career was apparent to all, with rumors spreading that his marriage was imminent, unwilling to always remain overshadowed by Cillian Grant whenever they were mentioned together.
By this morning, those rumors had morphed suddenly.
Initially spreading from within Grant Group’s senior management, about the female relatives of six major board members collectively entangled in a love triangle, with Director Chase’s two nieces contesting for one man.
The news was so abrupt and completely fabricated. Director Chase’s two nieces, one was a gentle socialite long since married, the other was a renowned lesbian, male-averse, and infamously fierce.
Throughout the years, whenever that brother-in-law showed the slightest disrespect, she would not hesitate to slap him in public.
Wholly absent was any entanglement, escalating to the embarrassing need to report to older family members.
Yet just by the morning, the rumors were flying, regardless of whether she was a gentle sister or the hot-tempered younger sibling, as well as the audacious brother-in-law.
No one bothered to dispel the rumors nor even showed their faces.
Each present was a seasoned veteran in the arena of fame and fortune and closely tied to the Grant Family due to interests.
Years ago, during the Grant family’s true and pretended drunken swap, they usually turned a blind eye, but it never meant they truly saw nothing.
For a moment, Damian Sinclair’s unusual entrepreneurial push, against the frequent backdrop of rowdy outbursts with Phoebe Grant at the company, gained a new interpretation.
Board members kept casting glances at Mr. Grant, his smile diminishing gradually from three parts to two, and then to one...
Outside, Damian Sinclair paid no mind to what waves his abrupt departure might cause.
Walking briskly out of the scope of the meeting room, he found the Grant Group filled with eyes and ears, indeed unsafe.
Fortunately, the small meeting was held on the top floor, and Damian Sinclair took three steps per stair, rushing to the rooftop, then locking the door, and finally speaking, "It’s me, what urgent matter has come up?"
Mr. Ghost’s voice was extremely hoarse, with indescribable tremors in the howling wind.
"Miss Eleanor is dead, her body is in that hospital’s ice cabinet, and I’ve seen the aborted fetus—"
Damian Sinclair decisively interrupted, "Impossible."
"I think so too." Mr. Ghost’s thoughts were somewhat jumbled, "President Sinclair, the situation was too chaotic here, I can’t sort it out in a few words, let me explain from the beginning."
"Initially, we were in good terms with the gang. At The Whale Museum, they arranged for people to hold up Cillian Grant so I could take Eleanor away. The old man’s domestic associates were guided by us to secretly confront Cillian Grant’s men, then I seized the opportunity to take Eleanor to Reykjavik, the hospital had prepared, before exposing it to the old man’s people."
"But on the way to Reykjavik, something went wrong, the old man suddenly increased his personnel, catching us off guard, and Miss Eleanor was taken. They met up with the old man’s original team halfway, taking Eleanor to the hospital early, the gang couldn’t cause trouble in time, could only call the police, but coincidentally the police came late, the group forced the doctor to do the surgery at gunpoint, resulting in Eleanor’s double death."
Damian Sinclair’s breathing was urgent, pacing anxiously on the rooftop.
"What do you find impossible?"
"My friend, along with the entire gang." Mr. Ghost’s flow of words became smooth, "First, my friend’s attitude was odd, he stopped me from confirming Eleanor’s body with the excuse using Therasian customs. I’ve known him for so long, I know too well he’s just a thug, he can’t even speak English properly, much less understand our Therasian taboos and traditions."
