Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 63: What Can You Hide

Auntie King was shocked.

"Eleanor, your matter must not be known to the madam."

Eleanor had been completely focused on leaving, with emotions of resentment exploding like fierce flowers, erupting under the impact. Now, stopped by Mrs. King, she calmed down.

"Sorry, Auntie King, I know they are preparing to send me away for a distant marriage, just pretend I never said that."

"It’s not a distant marriage." Auntie King moved a small stool and sat across from her, "It’s—"

She seemed troubled, her gaze carried a bitter compassion. Eleanor hadn’t understood what this compassionate reluctance represented before her hands were held.

Auntie King’s hands, marked with the coarse texture from years of kitchen work, pressed down with a peeling sensation from water erosion, it sank heavily into her skin.

"Eleanor, The Grant Family has only—left defensiveness towards you." Auntie King’s warm hand said words that chilled the heart, "Eve was tidying up the cups in Mr. Grant’s study and heard the madam say sending you away is like releasing a tiger back into the mountains. If there’s truly something between you and the eldest son, you may threaten The Grant Family in the future."

Eleanor froze, like a cracked ice lake, the clearer it was, the more defeated it felt.

Auntie King didn’t dare to look into her eyes, "Then Mr. Grant said the madam coddles excessively, if anything does happen, he will handle it."

"Auntie King—" Eleanor’s hands trembled, her lips quivered, "I grew up in The Grant Family. You know my personality, Auntie King, do you think... I would ever threaten The Grant Family one day?"

Auntie King shook her head.

Eleanor’s expression was on the verge of collapse, "Then why, having raised me, do they think of me like this, so hostile?"

Why did they suddenly stop loving her?

Regarding these four years, Eleanor had never understood. Even though she was not biological, eighteen years of harmonious parent-child relationship, those moments of tenderness, love, devoted upbringing, day by day, little by little, had built a tall wall.

Even with global warming, the melting of icebergs is gradual; why, when it comes to her, does the tall wall collapse overnight and disintegrate, falling apart?

Previously during the matchmaking, Mrs. Grant eventually backed out. Eleanor thought it was because Mrs. Grant was angry about her involvement with Cillian Grant, that it touched a raw nerve, but after calming down, she could still not bear it, somewhat showing compassion.

So this time, when Mr. Grant returned, even if ruthlessly, he chose to send her away for a distant marriage rather than directly kick her out like Cillian Grant, exchanging her for benefits.

But now it turns out everything was just her, the little match-selling girl, self-imagining, self-indulging in the flames of objective reality.

And every time she thought she saw the reality and cooled down, there were still layers, deeper voids waiting for her to fall into, cold and empty.

"Eleanor—" Auntie King didn’t know how to respond.

Eve was new, only heard these two sentences, then adhered to the rules and withdrew. If she hadn’t bumped into her in the kitchen and asked when returning empty-handed, even Auntie King wouldn’t know these sentences.

Eleanor tried to force a smile, but her lips felt as heavy as thousands of pounds, only pulling downward.

In this state, she didn’t want to disturb Auntie King any further, while Cillian Grant was still in the study, Eleanor hid in the master bedroom.

In the afternoon, Cillian Grant had four consecutive video meetings in the study, Eleanor took a short nap.

At dinner, Cillian Grant ate in the dining room, Eleanor ate in the kitchen earlier.

Returning to the master bedroom, Cillian Grant went to wash up, Eleanor stayed in the walk-in closet. When he came out from washing up, Eleanor went to the bathroom.

He knocked on the door, Eleanor came out to water the flowers on the balcony, he arrived at the balcony, Eleanor went to see Auntie King again.

Cillian Grant’s patience accumulated from his treated wound was completely depleted.

Eleanor knew this playful avoidance could not continue once his patience ran out.

Cillian Grant wouldn’t care about her mental state, even if she was shattered into a QR code, scanning it must read—I’m fine, is there anything I can do for you?

Returning to the master bedroom.

Cillian Grant was leaning against the left side of the bed, "Have you showered?"

Eleanor’s face stiffened, "I have."

"Why didn’t you change into sleepwear?" His gaze swept over Eleanor’s sweater and long pants attire, "Don’t plan to sleep tonight?"

Eleanor stood at the foot of the bed, "My sleepwear was stolen."

Cillian Grant paused for two seconds before asking amusedly, "Who stole it, could there be a thief here?"

"I don’t know, I just can’t find them."

Cillian Grant glanced at her, "A whole wardrobe of sleepwear, not a single piece can be found?"

Eleanor truly couldn’t find one; among the red, yellow, purple, green pieces, they either revealed the chest or legs or exposed the back or waist. The most complete fabric was the camisole, but that camisole—was transparent.

"The whole wardrobe of sleepwear is yours."

"You’re putting on a show with me?" Cillian Grant stood up, pulled her into the walk-in closet, "Are these dresses mine?"

Eleanor held her breath for a few seconds, staring at him, "If they’re not yours, are they gifts to me?"

"Why do you say that? They surely couldn’t be for Auntie King."

"I don’t like dressing up, why do you gift me these?"

Cillian Grant stared at her lifted face without saying a word.

The lighting in the closet was a pearly hue, his newly changed sleepwear was deep sea blue. Bright against dark clashed, enveloping his tall, robust figure, exuding a silent, negative yet sharp aggressiveness.

Eleanor took a step back, she was actually being impetuous.

Cillian Grant has been advancing rapidly in the past few years, there have indeed been storms and crises, but they haven’t hurt the foundation, and eventually, they all lay at his feet, becoming badges of honor, except for this time with The Xavier Family.

It dragged him down completely, and the way to resolve the situation wasn’t through his tactics or strategies, but by selling a woman.

Being directly asked about it now undoubtedly was a severe blow to his pride.

Eleanor eventually changed into the most conservative nightgown, with her back facing him, she crawled under the quilt.

Soon, she was embraced from behind.

The silk nightgown’s shoulder strap was bright red and slender, complementing her round, smooth shoulder. Under the ambiguous bedside lamp at night, allure was rampant.

Cillian Grant held her shoulder, his large hand lingered along the curve and moved downward. Eleanor blocked it a few times and then held it at her lower abdomen, "Menstrual period."

"It’s been two cycles already."

His high, firm nasal bridge pressed against Eleanor’s shoulder, biting, clear in pressure and friction, and the heat of his breath.

Eleanor keenly sensed his suffocation, restless frustration, a sort of suppressed rage that couldn’t be vented and was now on the verge of exploding.

"I want to ask you a question." Eleanor clung to his other arm too, desperately stalling to divide his attention.

Cillian Grant paused, "What question?"

Eleanor was also pondering what question.

Which question could attract his attention enough, yet sufficiently discouraging, wouldn’t anger him, and would let her safely escape after asking it?

"Today, I overheard your call." Eleanor kept her eyes open, her gaze steady with nowhere to land, "Was it Liam Xavier on the other line?"

Cillian Grant raised his head from her neck, "Standing at the study door for so long, asking with such obvious knowledge."

Eleanor reflexively turned to look at him, "You knew?"

"You came so hurriedly and left on tip-toes," Cillian Grant turned her over, face to face, "Keeping up a strange mood all afternoon, what secrets can you truly hide?"

Eleanor thought deeply; he knew she was outside, those words could have been unsaid, but he said them, could it be considered an explicit hint to her.

Like earlier, insisting she wear the sleepwear, was it a compliance test?