Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 146: She Died Because of Him

And it also solved a dilemma for Mr. Grant; he went all out on Eleanor, fearing that Cillian would end things with him for love.

So, the choice of hospital couldn’t reveal too much of his intentions.

This hospital had accumulated too many secrets over the years, forming an unspoken rule: everyone kept silent, fearing a tiny slip that would lead to disaster.

As for those two groups of people, as long as they were paid enough, they would vanish quicker than anyone.

At that time, Eleanor would be declared dead due to a surgical accident. Even if Cillian hated him, there’d still be some leeway, and he wouldn’t go against The Celestial Order.

The harm to The Grant Family and Grant Group would be far less than if Cillian continued to spiral downward.

And he would willingly retire early. Cillian, being part of The Grant Family, would continue to shoulder Grant Group’s responsibilities. Over time, even the deepest love and hate would dissipate.

Everything would return to normal.

Eleanor had been in the back seat since getting in the car. Red Beard, being obese, took up half the seat. Eleanor curled up, her body pressed against the car door, trying to use her body to discreetly unlock the door.

The door didn’t budge, but the sound was noticed by Red Beard, who let out a loud sneer, "Save your strength, little lady. We’ve done this woman-grabbing thing too many times. We know exactly what you’re thinking and how you’ll react."

Eleanor remained silent.

During the latter part of the journey, she seemed frightened and unusually obedient, even leaning against the window and taking a nap.

When the vehicle stopped, Red Beard exited from the other side without waking the woman by the window.

As everyone else exited, Eleanor cracked open one eye. Outside the car window was a massive junkyard, with scrapped cars, appliances, and rotten wooden sofas piled messily in the snow.

Red Beard’s group stood nearby, negotiating with another group of burly men. Eleanor could understand English but couldn’t decipher the lip movements.

She could only see Red Beard’s boss gesture toward her repeatedly during the negotiations.

The car windows were tinted, making it impossible to see inside from the outside. Eleanor didn’t hide, instead, she opened her eyes wide, focused on them, hoping to glean some information.

The group of burly men was likely the one Mr. Grant had instructed them to meet. Their stature and demeanor resembled the bodyguards Cillian had found—of the same ilk.

Red Beard’s group was gradually subdued, seemingly giving in. The burly men strode toward her.

Eleanor instantly closed her eyes and feigned sleep.

The next moment, the door she leaned against was flung open from the outside. Though not completely off guard, she didn’t resist as her body fell downward, only to be grabbed by the back of her collar by a hand like a palm fan.

Eleanor opened her eyes in surprise and struggled mightily.

The person holding her was unaffected, quickly carrying her to an off-road vehicle with a bed at the back, opening the rear door with one hand and stuffing her inside.

The driver’s seat and front passenger seat were already occupied. One person squeezed into the back seat beside Eleanor.

As the vehicle moved, the person in the front passenger seat fiddled with a phone, "We’ll reach the hospital in half an hour, but the group that blocked us earlier can catch up soon. If we engage them all the way to the hospital, it’ll attract police attention."

The man in the back seat glanced at Eleanor and then at Red Beard’s group outside, "Let them block them."

The front passenger protested, "They’re as professional as we are; they won’t be easily handled by Red Beard’s group."

Hearing this, Eleanor understood.

The people sent by Damian Sinclair were gang members, evidently rough around the edges. The only ones comparably professional would be the bodyguards from Cillian’s group.

"What’s your suggestion then?"

The front passenger glanced at Eleanor through the rearview mirror, "Like before. We’ll hold off that group and let the skinny monkeys take her to the hospital."

The man in the back seat vetoed this immediately, "Boss Eastwood warned of a third party’s involvement. He suspects there’s an ambush at the hospital, so we must personally take her there and witness the surgery ourselves."

Eleanor’s hands clenched tightly, her arms tensing into rigid rods.

If Mr. Grant knew about the third party, had he detected Damian Sinclair, and suspected an ambush at the hospital? So he wanted to watch the surgery himself?

Eleanor had anticipated Mr. Grant might demand to be present during the surgery. But that was under the assumption Mr. Grant hadn’t noticed Damian. Miles apart, the gang could convince the hospital to stall, and with enough persistence, Mr. Grant might have backed down.

But now he was alerted.

Undoubtedly he wouldn’t compromise.

The man in the front seat expressed concern, "With the toughness of that group, those skinny monkeys can only delay for half an hour at most. By the time we reach the hospital, if that group catches up, they’ll disrupt our mission, and involving the police will affect our escape."

Eleanor perked up her ears, concentrating on the decision of the man beside her.

"First to the hospital. Confirm it’s secure, then split some men to join the skinny monkeys, help them delay by ten minutes. Once the surgery’s over, we withdraw immediately."

Eleanor’s pupils constricted, and she felt suffocated.

She had just discovered the pregnancy and hadn’t planned to keep the child. She had looked up painless abortion online, where pre-operative checks and tests took 1 to 2 hours, the procedure itself 3 to 5 minutes, followed by about an hour of anti-inflammatory measures.

Medical practices differ domestically and abroad. There might be minor discrepancies.

But Mr. Grant had never intended for her to live. Pre-operative checks could be skipped, as could post-operative care.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes—a hospital is more than enough time to take her from life to death.

Eleanor’s limbs twitched uncontrollably. Her brazen plan hadn’t been born out of stupidity or impulse. She believed that since Cillian planned to release her using Damian Sinclair as a cover, he would help conceal it to prevent Mr. Grant from discovering Damian.

But she had miscalculated again.

Cillian, who was always so cunning, wouldn’t fail to hide things from Mr. Grant unless he never intended to hide them at all.

Had she misunderstood?

From the beginning, Cillian’s plan to let her go through Damian Sinclair was her speculation, pieced together from tiny clues, without any concrete evidence.

Now thinking back, if Cillian truly intended to let her leave with Mr. Ghost, why would he pressure her step by step after their whale-watching trip—marrying before loving her—which would only alarm her, spark suspicion, and make her stay?

Yet, she had managed to escape.

This was largely due to Mr. Ghost’s audacious maneuvering. After Cillian confronted her, there was no need for him to let her out, especially knowing Mr. Ghost planned to whisk her away. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Half an hour later.

The vehicle stopped in front of a green gabled villa. The yard’s walls weren’t the brick and iron fences of a private residence but rather lined with two rows of low pine trees. In the courtyard were birch trees, only their bare branches stark against the deep winter, standing half-dead.

Eleanor was escorted through the courtyard’s cement path and into the main door.

There was a prior appointment, and the nurse at the door directly led them to the third floor, opening the door to the operating room at the end of the corridor.

Inside, a female doctor in sterile clothing and two nurses were checking the instruments.

Without changing clothes, Eleanor was roughly handled by the burly men, pinned on the bed.

A nurse behind them spoke, "For sterile operations, please step outside."

The man drew a gun from his waist, released the safety, with a crisp clack, the bullet loaded.

The doctor and nurses immediately raised their hands.

The man tilted the gun toward Eleanor, "She doesn’t need a sterile environment. Proceed quickly."

The operating room fell silent; a few breaths later, the anesthetist returned to the equipment to prepare anesthesia, while the nurse continued with gauze preparations.

The doctor stood silently next to the operating table.

Eleanor collapsed, staring up rigidly at the bright, glaring shadowless lamp above.

It was the same light as when Cillian had forced her to undergo fallopian tube surgery.

In her life, for twenty-two years.

The first eighteen years were full of joy because of him, the following four marked by endless grievance and fragmentation.

In the end, three months shy of her twenty-third birthday, she died because of him.

Eleanor closed her eyes.