Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 4: He Wants Her to Marry Someone Else

Eleanor looked up and smiled, "Did you put too much salt in your breakfast?"

Phoebe Grant didn’t believe Eleanor was concerned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Must be nice to have so much time on your hands."

She tossed the words out and grabbed her bag, ready to leave.

Phoebe Grant realized what just happened, her cheeks flushed with anger, and she turned to her support, "Brother, look at her."

"Stop right there." Cillian Grant’s gaze was cold and remote. "The Grant Family sent you to school just so you could sharpen your tongue against others?"

Phoebe Grant broke into a smile.

Victorious, flaunting, smug.

Eleanor caught that smirk, and glanced at Cillian Grant.

Today he wore a charcoal gray suit, cufflinks glinting against his platinum watch, the whole man radiating success and confidence—a natural aura of command, someone born to strategize and win.

As if nothing mattered in his presence, as if no one measured up to his eyes.

Unreachable, untouchable.

Yet he constantly indulged Phoebe Grant, using artillery on a mere mosquito like her.

Eleanor couldn’t win, so she swallowed her frustration. "It’s my fault, I’m sorry."

She told herself this was learning to bend and yield.

Still, she walked out with her eyes red.

The driver Lewis saw her coming from afar, didn’t open the car door like usual, just lazily smoked his cigarette.

Eleanor was puzzled. "Are you off-duty today?"

Lewis nodded.

Eleanor didn’t ask more, and turned towards the main gate.

She’d left breakfast early, so there was enough time to walk up to the road and hail a cab.

Suddenly the Bentley beside her rolled down its window. "Miss Eleanor."

Eleanor halted, "Chase, do you need something?"

Aaron Chase was different from Lewis. Lewis was a Grant Family hourly driver, anyone could use him.

Aaron Chase was Cillian Grant’s dedicated chauffeur, trusted and valued—a close confidant who carried messages.

In the Grant Family, except for Mr. Grant and Mrs. Grant, everyone called him Chase.

Funny thing was, Eleanor used to call him Chase out of politeness. When Phoebe Grant first came back, she followed suit, but Cillian Grant heard once and specifically corrected her.

Phoebe Grant was delighted, even asked Eleanor if she should change her way of addressing him.

Cillian Grant replied, "She’s not the same as you."

Eleanor had felt agony at that, like her heart was in her hands, pulled up and slammed on the ground, stomped until nothing remained.

"Mr. Grant says Lewis lacks the knowledge to appreciate the line ’wild fire cannot consume, the spring breeze brings new life.’ From now on, he’s forbidden to drive you. Within three days, you will be assigned a dedicated chauffeur."

Eleanor found it humiliating.

After that misunderstanding with Damian Sinclair, she thought Cillian Grant’s warning was enough—the matter was settled.

After all, he guarded Phoebe Grant so carefully, he’d resolve trouble quietly, never let it affect her openly.

Yet now, it was laid bare for everyone—making it clear she’d deliberately seduced her brother-in-law Damian Sinclair: first to intimidate her, second to make sure everyone watched her.

Thinking of this, Eleanor finally understood why Mrs. Grant had acted the way she did last night, and that this health check—there was no escaping it now, nor could she.

Whether her pregnancy was uncovered, or she was branded as scheming—neither outcome was bearable. Either way, she couldn’t shoulder it.

Aaron Chase suddenly got out and opened the car’s rear door.

From the edge of Eleanor’s vision appeared a pair of black leather shoes, extending upwards to the crisp line of tailored trousers—the chill of a mature man.

She’d only just looked away when she heard the man’s displeased voice, "Get in."

Eleanor didn’t want to get in.

The past few days had brought nothing but bad news, and Phoebe Grant’s smug grin still floated before her eyes.

She couldn’t count how much resentment was stuck in her chest.

Eleanor hoisted her bag, heading straight for the gate.

The man’s voice grew sharper, "Take one more step and see what happens."

Eleanor froze, didn’t walk on, but didn’t turn around either.

"Get in the car." Cillian Grant rapped his knuckle on the door. "Don’t waste my time."

Eleanor clenched her fists.

Remembering her documents were still in Cillian’s hands.

If she didn’t play turtle this time, made too much of a fuss, exposed her pregnancy—there’d be no coming back.

She turned and got in.

The door slammed shut behind her with a bang.

Her damn temper.

Cillian Grant gave her a sidelong look but said nothing, instructing Aaron Chase to drive.

Aaron Chase was shrewd, too—the moment the car started, he raised the partition.

The back seat closed off, space heavy with silence, the man’s aura colder than ever. "How many mistakes did you make this morning?"

Eleanor pressed herself to the car door, chest rising and falling rapidly before she forced calm.

She stared at her own toes. "Two."

"Speak."

Eleanor wasn’t the type to deny her faults. If she’d truly violated conscience or morals, she’d own up to it without reservation.

But what wrongs was Cillian Grant talking about?

That she didn’t listen to him, didn’t want to cling to him. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

That she didn’t watch her mouth, but used it to put Phoebe Grant in her place.

But in Eleanor’s mind, she wasn’t a sex toy, much less a doormat.

What did she do wrong?

Eleanor’s voice was hoarse. "First mistake—shouldn’t have increased risk with Auntie King present. Second—shouldn’t have argued with Phoebe Grant."

"Those are all?"

The man’s silhouette shifted; he was six foot two, broad-shouldered, wide-backed—even the morning light outside, bright and pale, spilled onto him, casting a shadow that overlapped Eleanor’s own.

One big, grinding into one small.

Stripping her of dignity, stepping her into the mud—lowering her head even further.

Her eyes were red. "I shouldn’t have bothered you when I knew you weren’t awake yet."

"I don’t get up cranky." Cillian Grant pinched her chin, lifting her face and forcing her to meet his eyes. "Did you cry just now too?"

No matter how many times he did this, Eleanor was always rattled by his acute perception. "No, it was just the wind."

Cillian Grant’s thumb rubbed her eyelid, rough calluses scraping her skin—Eleanor couldn’t help but shudder.

Small and shivering, pitiful.

The man cracked a barely noticeable smile. "Lying."

Eleanor trembled harder. Cillian Grant hated lies—every time she lied, he punished her.

She instinctively yielded, "I was wrong, I promise it won’t happen again."

But Cillian Grant didn’t accept it—his face clouded, turning grim. "Are you afraid of me?"

Eleanor laughed bitterly inside.

He’d just trampled everything—her pride, her self-respect, reduced her to dirt.

Now, facing Phoebe Grant, she could only kneel—no resistance, no anger.

And he asks this, to flaunt his mercy?

Eleanor chose not to answer his mercy, and instead asked, "Can I have my documents back?"

Cillian Grant pressed his palm to her cheek, gaze falling from her eyes to her lips.

Shadowed and deep, full of suggestion.

All her squirming this morning had been for nothing—she still couldn’t escape.

Luckily, Cillian Grant didn’t get reckless in public—should be just a kiss.

She steeled herself and leaned in.

Just one kiss.

Eleanor lay in his arms, desperately gulping air, greedy for each breath of life.

Cillian Grant was breathing hard too, stroking her hair, still unsatisfied. "Phoebe’s pregnancy isn’t stable. I’ve invited a top gynecologist from Beijing to help her. He’ll also take a look at your condition."

Like lightning striking on a clear day.

Eleanor’s vision blackened, her voice tight. "What gynecologist—another surgery?"

"Traditional medicine, acupuncture, maybe herbal treatment."

"Actually," Eleanor tried to salvage things, "I’d rather not treat it. Infertility isn’t a risk for you."

Cillian Grant’s hand stilled.

Eleanor sensed it but didn’t dare look up at his expression.

Afraid her hidden guilt would be seen in a glance.

"Never thought about the future? What if you marry someone?"