Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 2: What Are You Guilty About?

Eleanor felt something was wrong again.

She had just checked the bathroom once more, and everything was cleaned up well.

Moreover, the mobile purchase records had been cleared in advance, and the package was sent to the office, with the cardboard box torn and thrown away...

Everything was covered without any omissions, Eleanor steadied her mind.

"I’m monitored at work, at home after work, and there’s a half-hour drive under the chauffeur’s watch. Even dogs on the roadside have more privacy than me. What can I possibly hide?"

Cillian Grant’s eyes were deep and cold as he reminded, "Who did you meet in the morning?"

Eleanor’s heart relaxed slightly.

It’s not about pregnancy...

She took a breath, "Damian Sinclair."

On this point, Eleanor had no fear.

"There was a traffic accident on Friendship Road during the morning rush. He was parked beside me while we were stuck. Both drivers were present; you don’t have to be afraid that I would trip up Phoebe Grant."

"If not to trip her up, what were you reminiscing? Remembering past love? Lamenting missed connections in the present?"

Cillian lowered his gaze, scrutinizing her closely.

Close enough that his handsome features appeared sharp, like a poisonous blade, easily slicing open a wound.

Eleanor tried to be sincere, "It was just a random mention of the past; many things I’ve already forgotten, and we didn’t say much."

"Didn’t say much—" he suddenly smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes, "Why didn’t you report it?"

"I have a clear conscience, why should I report?" Eleanor countered, "Besides, no matter what I do, the driver will report to you word for word. There’s no need for me to go to the extra effort."

Cillian’s face was gloomy, impossible to tell if he believed her or not.

He was famously tricky and difficult, with deep secretive schemes; hardly anyone could hide anything from his sharp eyes.

Eleanor dared not relax, standing straight and allowing his examination.

Cillian found no flaw in her expression and asked again, "You were just talking about marriage, what made you guilty?"

Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat.

She thought she had covered it downstairs, but she couldn’t hide it from him.

A momentary slip.

Cillian’s face lost all warmth, suddenly bending down to bite her lip.

Ferocity, fierce, not a kiss.

More like he wanted to devour her.

Until the taste of iron filled the air, Cillian let go, his eyes sharp and long, "I see you’re incorrigible."

Noticing his growing fury, Eleanor crawled away from him in panic.

Cillian sneered, pulling open his shirt buttons.

The light fell on his exposed chest and abdominal muscles, their defined ridges rising and falling with his breath, bringing a wave of masculine, wild hormones, directly attacking the heart.

To be fair, there were many high-status, powerful figures in the upper circle, but none as outstanding as him.

Power, wealth, looks, physique, ability—all perfectly balanced. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He was truly one of a kind, causing women to go mad with love and admiration.

Eleanor curled up at the head of the bed, not even giving him a glance, "It’s my period."

Cillian paused, his fingers resting on his belt buckle, "I recall it’s next week."

"The heat was just turned on a few days ago, and it was hot at night, so I ate a few bags of ice, and it came early."

Cillian released his belt and stepped forward.

His coarse, calloused fingers brushed against her tender skin, like gritty sandpaper causing stinging pain.

Eleanor gritted her teeth to endure.

It wasn’t just his fingers; his palm was also rough.

She had quietly researched online and found it was likely related to his military service, because his shoulder also had calluses, consistent with those left by long assault rifles or ultralong-range sniper rifles.

In many heated late nights, those rough calluses chafed against her, peeling away a layer of her skin.

The man hugged her, "Really?"

Eleanor lowered her eyes, "If you don’t believe me, there’s evidence in the bathroom trash can."

She deeply understood Cillian’s suspicious nature and made thorough preparations without any omissions.

The man became completely irritable, "Did you do this on purpose?"

In the past, she had feigned physical discomfort, drank a lot of cold water, ate ice, and even taken medication to advance or delay her period.

Eleanor pulled down her skirt, softly denying, "It was really too hot; I couldn’t help it."

Her voice was loud and clear, but soft and sweet at the same time; now with lowered eyes, she appeared innocent and obedient, like a pear blossom on a branch in the gentle rain, too delicate to disturb.

Even the coldest of hearts had to treat her with care.

But Cillian had seen too much of her theatrical pity; when it came to matters of principle, he hardened his heart and forcefully pulled her back.

Eleanor couldn’t withstand his strength and was thrown to the end of the bed.

"Haven’t I warned you against eating cold food?"

Eleanor remained silent, her rich, black hair spread across the bed, covering her face, revealing only a small part of her chin, where her fair, supple skin contrasted with her dark hair, both pure and alluring.

But she neither dressed up nor maintained herself, so her hair lacked luster and appeared fragile.

Cillian stood still for a moment, his voice somewhat eased, "Answer me."

Eleanor didn’t notice.

She had accumulated too much negative emotion toward Cillian; being violently thrown by him had already pushed her to the edge, "Are you planning to hit me?"

Cillian suddenly drew a deep breath, the light casting shadows on his face, exceedingly grim, "Have I ever laid a hand on you?"

Cillian never used physical violence, but he had plenty of other vile methods, unspeakably indecent.

From the age of eighteen to twenty, Eleanor resisted especially fiercely. Apart from fearing to alarm The Grant Family, she tried various methods, not limited to running away and threatening him with nude photos.

The most intense rebellion cost her a year of schooling. During that year, day and night, he used an endless array of tactics to teach her to appear compliant.

Eleanor regained her composure from the past, not daring to provoke him more, "No."

Cillian leaned over, his palm landing on her face, parting her hair to reveal Eleanor’s entire face.

Water shimmered in her eyes, on the brink of falling, her lashes not even blinking, like a stubborn wild deer.

Eleanor sensed his hand gradually moving downwards, as well as his chest close by, simmering heat rising, the fervor belonging solely to a man’s swollen desire.

Eleanor couldn’t believe he could be so beastly, just about to struggle free.

Yet Cillian stepped back first, turning to leave.

Eleanor’s shock turned to joy, her eyes fixed on the door, and after a minute, she collapsed weakly onto the bed.

.........

Close to ten o’clock at night, Mrs. Grant suddenly knocked on the door.

Eleanor hurried to open it, "It’s so late, what brings you here?"

The corridor light was a warm orange, reflecting Mrs. Grant’s warm smile, "Your brother didn’t bring you a gift, that’s his fault. Your father specifically called him to the study for a lecture, and Mommy came to see you."

Eleanor’s heart melted like soft mud, and she stepped aside to open the door, "Mom, I’m fine."

Mrs. Grant’s eyes were also red.

Suddenly Eleanor found herself being hugged, hearing Mrs. Grant’s choked voice in her ear, "You’ve grown taller, and lost weight."

The magnolia fragrance, warm and soothing, enveloped her.

Like a little kitten abandoned in the wind and rain, Eleanor was finally picked up by her mother, her limbs softened, and she nestled fully into Mrs. Grant’s embrace, nuzzling close.

"I haven’t grown; Mommy can still hold me." Eleanor bent her knees, wrapping her arms around her waist, "I’ve indeed lost some weight, I won’t diet anymore."

Before she finished speaking, she clearly felt Mrs. Grant’s arms tighten, "Dieting? Why not consult a nutritionist? It’s not good to compromise your health."

Nearing tears, she buried her head into Mrs. Grant’s bosom, murmuring, "Mommy’s right, I’ll listen to you."

But Mrs. Grant’s next words sent a chill down her spine.

"It’s just as well you need a medical checkup. I’ll instruct the hospital to give you a full suite of tests, see about any missing micronutrients, internal organs, anything lacking or damaged, better to discover it sooner to mend it."