Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 152: Phoebe Grant and Damian Sinclair’s Wedding Date

Chapter 152: Chapter 152: Phoebe Grant and Damian Sinclair’s Wedding Date

"...No."

Wells didn’t understand love, but he understood a man’s possessiveness—forceful and stingy when it came to a woman.

He’d originally planned to gloss over the past, but since Cillian Grant had asked, he naturally had to report in detail.

"Miss Eleanor listened to the Therasia situation, stared at the ceiling for a long time without speaking, then said only one sentence: ’I dragged him down.’"

"Dragged him down..."

On the phone, the man echoed the words, his voice barely audible.

Wells couldn’t be sure, so he held his breath, silent for another couple seconds.

The man said only, "Take care of her."

................

After several calls indicated the phone was switched off, Mrs. Grant set down her phone, finally realizing she’d been blocked.

Cillian Grant resented them; Mrs. Grant had already anticipated this the moment she made her decision.

That’s how youthful love is—blazing like a fire, heedless of cost or consequence, irrational, and the more anyone tries to stop it, the harder it wants to break through its chains.

But after you truly get it, then what?

Setting aside the precedent of someone like Liam Xavier, who lost all his power, status, and future. Just look at the privileged kids in recent years who chose love at all costs, ignoring family and status, insisting on marrying ordinary women—are their marriages happy now? Fulfilling?

No.

Some are driven mad by the greed of the other family, their relationships on the verge of collapse.

Some have ground away all affection in the daily grind of petty squabbles, drifting back into the party scene.

Others, worn out by years of single-handed battles in their careers, finally come to understand that a match between equals—as their parents said—was right.

Life is long, decades stretch on. No single love can fill every minute and every second.

Mrs. Grant was someone who’d lived through half her life; she’d rather have Cillian resent her now than see him lose his future, beset on all sides, take a wrong turn and end up with nothing in middle age, regretting it to his very core.

But in the end, she still worried about Cillian’s health; after sitting quietly in the room for a while, she called Mr. Grant.

"Tell me, since Eleanor has already been dealt with, why are you stopping Cillian from seeing her one last time, letting him give up and move on for good?"

Before Mr. Grant could answer, Mrs. Grant’s tone grew sharper.

"And Grant Group—now that Cillian is back, why don’t you let go, why keep pushing? Chairman Grant, are you lying to me? At Grant Group it’s not about forcing Cillian back to the country; you just want to compete with him for power and money, to protect your own position."

Mr. Grant froze, gestured for the high-level executives reporting to him to leave, and walked over to the lounge area by the bookcase. "Grace, that accusation is way too harsh."

He sat down on the sofa and loosened a button on his suit. "I stopped Cillian from going to Froskar because I was afraid he’d do something reckless and desperate. Look at him now—if he’s out of our sight, can you really be at ease?"

Mrs. Grant said, "Don’t try to fool me. What’s really going on with Grant Group? He’s at his most resentful right now, and you’re still pressing him, still forcing him. Aren’t you afraid he’ll hate you?"

Mr. Grant leaned forward to grab his teacup and poured himself some water. "Where am I forcing him? It’s only temporary. Grace, I’m over sixty now; fighting for power only invites outsiders’ ridicule and harms the bond between father and son—what good does that do me?"

But Mr. Grant was uneasy inside, and deflected with a vague reply.

This time, he was actually lying to Mrs. Grant.

The real reason he blocked Cillian from going back to Froskar and was holding on so tightly at Grant Group was that he suspected Eleanor was still alive.

Because Damian Sinclair hadn’t reacted right after learning of Eleanor’s death.

He was still a young man, not practiced at calculation, unable to fully control his emotions.

He had pain, hatred, and regret, even lost his mind and tried to call off the engagement, but later, blocked by the Sterling Sinclair, he refused to cooperate, making clear he wouldn’t attend the wedding.

The resolve that came after hatred was convincing enough.

But in Mr. Grant’s mind, he couldn’t stop playing back those few seconds when Damian Sinclair came down from the rooftop.

Not the hysterics fit for life-and-death farewells, his emotions resembled anger more than hatred.

Mr. Grant sipped his tea, the scalding water burning all the way down his throat.

He frowned, slammed down the cup. "Tomorrow is Phoebe’s wedding, and Damian Sinclair is still flatly refusing to attend?"

"Yes, Phoebe said he’s staying at the Sinclair Corporation, won’t see her or his parents."

Mrs. Grant was fuming, her anger nearly boiling over.

"He’s been helping Eleanor from behind the scenes again and again—all the more reason to believe the feelings aren’t over. This time you caught it early, Eleanor’s gone, and now he probably hates you to death."

"Calling off the wedding is a good thing, but for him to back out three days before—he’s not giving anyone time to react. Now Phoebe has just moved into the Sinclair family, and if we tell guests the wedding’s canceled now, what will people think of Phoebe?"

At this, Mrs. Grant’s heart twisted. "Phoebe’s pregnant, three months along, her belly’s already swelling. After the engagement’s off, is she even going to keep this child?"

Meanwhile, at the top floor of Sinclair Group.

Mr. Sinclair arrived with a team of bodyguards, forcing open Damian Sinclair’s office door.

Damian Sinclair’s secretary was pinned to the wall by bodyguards, still pleading anxiously, "Chairman, President Sinclair hasn’t slept in a day and a night—he’s just now fallen asleep—"

"I haven’t slept in a day and night either—Sean Fenton, you’re his secretary, and an employee of Sinclair Group."

Mr. Sinclair’s fury had now become an inferno, decades of refined self-control abandoned, as he strode inside.

The bodyguards had their orders, didn’t follow him in, shut the door tight, and guarded the entrance.

The CEO’s office had a small lounge with its own bedroom and bathroom.

Mr. Sinclair headed straight for it, twisted open the door, and saw Damian Sinclair lying on his side on the bed—actually asleep.

The curtains were drawn, the room dim and shrouded in deep shadows, making the dark circles under his eyes and his unshaved stubble stand out even more; he looked more like he hadn’t slept in a week than just a single night.

Mr. Sinclair gritted his teeth, crushed his outrage, didn’t turn on the light, walked over, and woke him as gently as he could manage.

Damian Sinclair was deep asleep, but exhaustion finally roused him after being pushed several times by Mr. Sinclair.

"Father?"

He blinked slowly, suddenly sitting up. "Why are you here?"

Mr. Sinclair was angry, anxious and disappointed all at once, hating his son for making such a mess. "Tomorrow is your wedding to Phoebe Grant. She’s moved into our home already, carrying your child—what exactly are you thinking? Do you have any sense of responsibility as a man?"

Damian Sinclair lowered his eyes, fixing his clothes.

After a while, his voice was hoarse: "What is responsibility?"

Mr. Sinclair was so furious he actually laughed. "Responsibility is being accountable to the woman carrying your child. Shielding them from wind and rain, that’s responsibility."

Damian Sinclair clenched his hands so tightly his knuckles went white and made a sound from the force.

This was exactly what was chaining him down—responsibility.

Four years ago, after the switch in engagements orchestrated by Phoebe Grant and Cillian Grant, he had to take responsibility.

In that, Cillian Grant acted despicably, tormenting Eleanor for four years, and Phoebe Grant bullied her all that time.

Now, when all that persecution came to light, instead of holding their own children accountable as parents, Mr. and Mrs. Grant solved it by dealing with the victim—demanding Eleanor pay with her life and that of her unborn child.

And at this moment, he was still supposed to be responsible for Phoebe Grant.

So who will be responsible for Eleanor?