Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 40: Her Hatred Forever Solidified

"Mr. Grant asked clearly. Simon was also here for a matchmaking, the woman’s surname is Grant. I checked the hallway surveillance, Miss Eleanor entered the room voluntarily, stayed for over twenty minutes, door closed, no one knows what they talked about."

Eleanor felt a tightness on her scalp.

She entered the room by mistake, but in Aaron Chase’s mouth, it sounded like she was eager.

Cillian Grant waved Aaron away.

He didn’t allow the driver to get in the car.

Eleanor’s body was as tense as a drawn bowstring, stretched to the limit, uncontrollably trembling.

"Dressed to the nines, thinking the matchmaking partner is someone like Simon?" He stood with his back to the light, his face shadowed, "Not resisting or rejecting, stayed for twenty minutes, got scared when it turned out to be Quincy Lewis, tried to escape, Simon saved you, perfect timing to fall into his arms, seducing him to stand up for you."

Eleanor spoke coldly, "I didn’t seduce him."

"Then why call his name with such affectation? Love at first sight, couldn’t wait?"

Eleanor clenched her hands tightly.

The arrogance and disdain bred by prestigious family backgrounds, privilege, and wealth.

Quincy Lewis was blatantly degenerate and notorious scum.

While an heir like Cillian Grant, no matter how bad, still preserved decorum.

Seldom did he resort to verbally abusive humiliation, let alone this sort of slut-shaming.

Today, her unwillingness to comply and the disruption of the matchmaking had touched his scales.

Cillian Grant’s silhouette loomed over, "He’s just an illegitimate son of a director in the Northern Vantus Group, not officially recognized, what can you marry him for?"

Eleanor’s nails dug into her palm. "Can’t I consider character when marrying, must it all be about benefits?"

Such protection for a first-meeting matchmaking partner.

Cillian Grant’s restrained anger was like pouring hot oil, completely igniting.

"Character?" He grasped Eleanor’s arm, forcing her close to face him, "What is character? Character determined at first sight, character talked about for twenty minutes? Are you qualified to look at character?"

Each word piercing, a probing sentence, unequivocally confirming he wanted to ally with her through marriage.

Eleanor’s spine collapsed, her insides like an anthill dug out, flooded with boiling molten aluminum, burning pain searing, along with all her past chaos and injuries, permanently molded and solidified.

Impossible to forget, impossible to smooth over.

"I don’t look at character."

Eleanor’s voice had no trace of trembling, cold and emotionless.

"The clothes were prepared by my mother, I wore them; makeup was required, I put it on; I also met Quincy Lewis. He has AIDS, I couldn’t accept it for a moment, reacted excessively, I’ll apologize next time."

"Next time?" Cillian Grant’s temple twitched, his tone more mocking, "Sounds eager to try? Does that mean you’ve accepted it now?"

Cillian Grant’s skepticism, born from his very bones, questioned from every angle repeatedly, provoking her, testing her, deducing her true intentions from subtle reactions.

Eleanor suppressed the surging anger in her heart, compliant and accommodating him, "Yes, I’ve thought it through. Quincy Lewis is sick, acts recklessly, but his father is shrewd. If I marry him, for the reputation of the Lewis Family, they probably won’t let Quincy Lewis touch me, only if I’m healthy and living well will the rumors of AIDS in the Lewis Family seem untrue."

The man stared at her emotionlessly. "What are you after?"

Eleanor knew how she should respond, opened her mouth but was silent, had to take a deep breath again to find her voice, "Wealth and honor. Being kept by the Lewis Family as a mascot, I won’t lack what I should have."

The grip on her arm grew stronger, Eleanor felt his fingers sink into her skin, as if ready to break her bones the next moment.

"Do you understand AIDS? Since Quincy Lewis was diagnosed, his father never let him come home. You get married, live alone outside, can his father stop you two from being intimate?"

Cillian Grant’s palm landed on her face, forcefully pulling her up. "When you contract the disease, body ulcerating and festering, endless fever, muscles and joints like infested with countless wasps, inner torment relentless, outer itching incessant. Then, the Lewis Family won’t save you, nor will the Grant Family."

The man’s description was too vivid, too ruthless, blatantly laying out her fate after the benefits exchange.

The place Quincy Lewis touched felt like swarming with tiny wasps, stinging her in shocking pain, leaving her completely weakened, collapsing into Cillian Grant’s embrace.

The man teasingly caressed her back, voice softened, "Are you scared?"

Are you scared?

Eleanor’s ears reverberated.

Pushing her into the fire pit, coercing her into submission, then telling her the outcome, intimidating her, all to test her flaws.

Eleanor’s brain roared, one part urging clarity and endurance, another filled with the resentment of being looked down from above, manipulated at will, emotions like oil on fire, burning her heart into ashes bit by bit.

"Are you scared?" She looked up, pulling his hand, interlocking their fingers, "Your hand, your arm, your chest, your legs, every inch you’re touching me now, Quincy Lewis has touched too."

She leaned forward, closer to him, "Do you feel it? That wasp swarm-like sting, it’s on me, on you, festering, you can’t escape either."

She willingly approached, their fingers tightly intertwined still. Cillian Grant’s expression just relaxed, then hearing her defiance, no remorse aroused him to fury, "Touch can’t transmit AIDS, do you think I’ll touch you after you marry that filthy scum Quincy Lewis?"

Eleanor looked at him, silent for a moment, then laughed louder, "Then I must thank you for sparing me."

With those words, Cillian Grant’s face instantly froze over like an ice sheet.

At such close proximity, clear enough to see each of his eyelashes, neatly groomed stubble faintly showing an indistinct bluish hue.

Intense male aggressiveness, vividly oppressed, tore her apart in the confrontation.

Eleanor perceived the utmost danger.

Never before.

Even after numerous failed escape attempts, she hadn’t sensed such danger.

Amid imminent tension, Aaron Chase suddenly returned, saving Eleanor. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"Mr. Grant, Madam is here."

Eleanor immediately pushed him away, her back against the car, creating distance.

Cillian Grant’s gaze fixed on her, showing no signs of restraint.

Not just unrestrained, his expression grew increasingly sinister over time, piercing to the bone.

Eleanor shuddered.

Quickly opened the car door, sprinting to meet Mrs. Grant.

Mrs. Grant was initially coming to find her.

Hailey could still stall with reminiscing, mediating Simon’s apology, but Mrs. Grant couldn’t ignore an old friend’s face, hurriedly making her way.

"Didn’t leave with Cillian first?"

Eleanor heard the deeper implication in Mrs. Grant’s words, lowered her head, "He doesn’t like me, I waited for you."

Mrs. Grant gave her a deep look, walked to the car, Cillian Grant had already lowered the window, resting his hand on the frame.

Mrs. Grant opened her mouth to continue questioning the suspicions in the box, her gaze suddenly fixed, grabbing his hand, "What happened to your injury? Wasn’t it healed a few days ago?"

Cillian Grant glanced at the newly added cuts, nonchalant, "Careless."

Mrs. Grant was exasperated by his disregard for his body, "Does the Grant Group business require the Vice Chairman to use a knife every day? I won’t let you leave without an explanation today."

Cillian Grant glanced at Eleanor standing still, letting Mrs. Grant examine his wound, "Weren’t you mad at me, yet you still care about my injury at first sight?"

Mrs. Grant glared at him, "What kind of talk is that, is your injury more important or that trivial matter?"

Upon discovering two long, deep cuts across his forefinger, the skin and flesh curling, blood spreading around.

Her heart ached initially, a sudden flash struck through her mind, turning abruptly to stare at Eleanor’s off-white dress.

The inner side of her left arm, faintly showing signs of dried blood.

Mrs. Grant’s face visibly stilled, then stared directly at Eleanor scrutinizingly.