Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 35: His Strange Abnormality

Last year, on the twenty-third day of the last lunar month, the night before the Little New Year, it poured heavily.

Eleanor doesn’t remember the exact reason, only that Phoebe Grant had a fight with her, leaving her utterly defeated, Mrs. Grant sided with Phoebe, instructed Auntie King to pack her luggage, and sent her back to school at the start of the holiday.

The rain was heavy with strong winds, they wouldn’t let the driver take her, and no one even offered her an umbrella.

How did she endure it at that time? Why didn’t she run?

If she had run then, she wouldn’t be living in constant fear now, struggling to survive.

That’s right.

At that time, Cillian Grant stopped her car halfway, directly escorting her back to a house near the school, all the way until New Year’s Eve when he returned south to a lively celebration.

He hired a nanny to watch her in the cold house, and even on New Year’s Eve, felt it wasn’t enough, specifically called the nanny, forbidding her from watching the Spring Festival Gala.

A method that could only be described as childish, yet it precisely grasped her longing for family, piercing her heart with pain.

Therefore, this time he didn’t let her vent, intentionally swinging the door open to frighten her, soul scattering, could only be considered an appetizer.

Mr. Harrison taking a leave is a signal for the main course.

What’s waiting for her afterwards is yet unknown.

.........

Suddenly, from behind, an engine roared rapidly, the dazzling headlights shifted from the mountain wall to the center of the road.

Eleanor raised her hand to shield herself from the blinding light, stepping aside to the road’s edge.

In almost a blink, she had just steadied her stance when the vehicle braked sharply beside her.

Eleanor’s eyes adjusted to the light, gradually focusing, seeing the passenger window rolling down.

From the driver’s seat, Aaron Chase leaned over with a smile, "Miss Eleanor, please get in the car."

Eleanor glanced at the back seat, dawn’s glow a deep sea blue, all she could see was obscured, the inside of the car unlit, unable to discern if there was anyone.

Though Cillian Grant often didn’t have breakfast at The Grant Family, it wouldn’t be so early when he left.

Eleanor calculated, it would be around seven, she held onto a sliver of hope, pulling the passenger door.

Aaron blocked with a smile, "Miss Eleanor, the back seat."

This meant Cillian was there.

Eleanor took a deep breath.

She couldn’t refuse on a whim.

Last night, things worked out unexpectedly, Mrs. Grant misunderstood, she still had a chance to escape.

The future was still promising.

Mentally prepared, Eleanor got in the car.

The vehicle slid forward, Aaron, without needing an order, raised the partition.

At the same time, he turned on the reading light, instantly illuminating the cabin.

The man’s silhouette in the warmest yellow light, black shoes, black trousers, black shirt, belt cinching a lean waist. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Dressed in a simple, understated manner, yet exuded the charisma of a mature man.

"Starting work so early?" Cillian stretched his leg casually, "Skipping breakfast?"

Eleanor had avoided looking at his face earlier, now hearing his common tone, couldn’t help but glance at his expression.

Perhaps the automobile manufacturer intentionally designed it this way, the reading light had a softness that other lights didn’t, enveloping him now, unexpectedly softening his sharpness.

Making him follow suit in gentleness.

As though he didn’t intend to settle accounts with her, or perhaps yesterday’s anger was just her imagination.

Both bizarre and absurd.

"Project’s busy, breakfast’s at the company." Eleanor replied, still suspicious.

"The Grant Botanical Gardens project?" Cillian reached to grab her bag strap, lifting it off her shoulder.

Eleanor instinctively clamped her arm down, he easily took it, unzipping, a phone, charger, tissues.

Nothing else.

"Such a large bag for just these few items?"

Eleanor’s jaw clenched tightly, cold sweat broke out on her back.

Of course, not only these, earlier this morning she also had a printed map of Trilliant County from online, marked with various places Tilly mentioned, along with an action plan.

She thought paper would stand out and be cumbersome, so after memorizing it in the morning, she quickly burned it.

"I’m used to carrying it." Eleanor reached out, one hand pulling the bag, the other snatching back her phone.

"Change it." He tossed the old bag out the window without discussion, pulling out a platinum bag from beside his feet, custom foggy elephant gray, this year’s coveted limited edition color by Soldane Province socialites.

Mrs. Grant and Phoebe Grant each got one, with Phoebe even throwing a party to flaunt it.

"No need." Eleanor reclaimed the charger, tissues, attempted to retrieve the phone.

Cillian’s arm circled her smoothly, tossing the phone into the platinum bag with his other hand.

Holding the bag open as a cue for her items, "Put them inside."

Eleanor struggled twice, perceived his arm tightening, resisted no more, tossing her belongings inside.

Cillian seemed satisfied, stroked her hair gently, "I’ll pick you up these days."

Eleanor stiffened, lowering her head to hide her expression, "Project team’s overtime is sporadic, wouldn’t want to waste your time."

Cillian watched her, only seeing the silent crown of her head.

Every second of silence spoke volumes of fear.

It was the harsh lessons he taught in the past three months.

Still upset she chose wrongly after graduation, he wanted her to remember, acknowledge her mistake, but shouldn’t have pushed to the point of fear.

Fear...makes it even more distant.

"The botanical garden is a Grant Group project." Cillian’s Adam’s apple moved, tilting her chin up, "You not working overtime only benefits the project."

Eleanor’s complexion porcelain white, features striking, eyebrows dark and delicately angled, a noble florid appearance.

Looking closely, there’s a tiny mole on her nose tip, a tad smaller than a sesame seed, adding charm to her prominent beauty.

He placed a kiss there.

Eleanor leaned back to avoid it, coincidentally captured the soft layer of light in his eyes, cold firmness laced with gentleness.

Her heart alarmed suddenly.

Not settling accounts is one thing, combined with the bag, hinting compliance for the project.

What grand ploy of tenderness is this, and what are the intentions?

.........

Eleanor struggled to make sense even upon arriving at the company.

She sat bewildered at her workstation, collecting her thoughts.

Tilly entered after clocking in, initially startled seeing her, then exclaimed, "No way, how early do you arrive every day? I came a whole hour early today, yet you’re already here."

Eleanor raised her hand to rub her face, fixing her expression before responding, "Overtime pay is triple, I treat the company as home."

Tilly gave a thumbs up, "Mole Man is badass."

Passing by Eleanor’s workstation, her sidelong glance halted her steps.

"Birkin, crocodile skin elephant gray, with its pricing around seventy to eighty thousand, did your second-generation boyfriend gift it?"

Eleanor’s gaze followed her line of sight, suddenly noticing her usual habit of piling the bag in the corner of the desk, forgetting to hide it.

"Fake." She replied nonchalantly, tossing it over to Tilly, "Spent half a month’s salary on a micro-shop purchase, guaranteed authentic unless bringing to an official store for verification, how is it? Pass for real?"

Tilly picked it up, inspected it repeatedly, "Legit. If you hadn’t casually tossed it over like a worn-out cabbage, I wouldn’t have believed you bought it from a micro-shop."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"For your Benz sports car-driving second-generation friend." Tilly leaned closer, gossiping, "Didn’t you see the company’s big group chat last night? Your former colleague from Group A, Leona Lewis, accused you of taking leave to hook up with a second-generation, if not for Jolly God rebuking her, she intended to post the photos."

Eleanor had her big group notifications muted, with many things happening last night, she didn’t check.

On opening it now, there were over a thousand unread messages.

She skimmed through them, somebody questioned her promotion, implying backstage connection, being unworthy, taking away the spot intended for Leona Lewis in the special project group, leading Leona to directly accuse her of seducing a second-generation.

When Eleanor saw Jolly God intervening, she had already scrolled through most of it.

Ninety percent of the company’s people were spectating, Jolly God sternly criticized Leona for slandering a colleague, demanding a public apology.

Unable to save face, Leona disclosed in the group chat, that Eleanor had a prenatal checkup at a shady clinic in the alley yesterday.

At this point, the group exploded.

Eleanor’s face turned pale, scrolling to the end where Cecilia Byron personally intervened to stop it.