Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 43: I’m Begging You

As they neared the company, Eleanor opened the car door, ready to step out.

Cillian Grant leaned over, closing the car door again.

Unexpectedly, his body surrounded her, his chest pressed against her cheek, and Eleanor felt his arms encircle her back.

Outside the car, the crowd of commuters rushed by, holding coffee, carrying breakfast, with bags slung over their shoulders. Passing by this luxury car with its unique license plate, they all cast curious glances.

Eleanor even recognized some of her colleagues among the unfamiliar faces.

Involuntarily, she shrank back and raised her hand to push him away.

Suddenly, a weight settled on her shoulders, enveloping her in soft fabric, filled with his scent—fresh, cold, and sharp.

Looking down, Eleanor saw it was a black cashmere coat, not hers.

Confused, she looked up at him, hesitant to remind him, "I have to go to work."

"Hmm." He buttoned up the coat, unlocking the door, "Go ahead, I’ll pick you up tonight."

His behavior almost made Eleanor feel as if they were in a tender, loving relationship.

But she knew clearly that he was just the wolf pointing the way for Little Red Riding Hood, aiming to devour her by night.

She no longer refused the coat, fleeing from the car as if escaping.

Aaron Chase lowered the partition, and the rich scent of corn filled the back seat.

He glanced at the relaxed expression on Cillian Grant’s face, trying to tease, "Miss Eleanor still loves eating corn. It’ll taste even better because you cooked it yourself."

Cillian Grant’s face remained indifferent as he leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes.

Aaron Chase didn’t feel awkward; he knew he shouldn’t overstep by discussing a man’s private matters.

Cillian Grant was coldly aloof, keeping everyone at a distance.

Generally, a trusted driver of a wealthy family would be able to share intimate conversations. Most outsiders saw him that way, but Aaron knew he wasn’t like that.

Not just himself, but also all the close subordinates around Cillian Grant weren’t like that. Whether secretaries, personal assistants, or consultants, he truly only saw them as tools.

Other than the Grant Family, Aaron hadn’t seen him get close to anyone. But even with the Grant Family, Aaron felt he was subtly distant, not intimate enough. That vague, indescribable yet very real feeling was too strange.

To the point where Aaron feared deeply in his heart—someone who was indifferent to everyone had an extraordinarily strong grasp, never stopping in his conquest. Under tremendous pressure, didn’t he ever feel tired? Where did his emotional refuge lie when he was weary?

If he didn’t have one, was he even human? Or had he turned into a demon?

......

Once Eleanor was out of the car’s range, she removed the coat.

Passing by a trash can, she was tempted to throw it in, but reason held her back just in time.

At the company, as soon as she reached her workstation, Eleanor quickly stuffed the coat into her platinum bag and tossed it under the desk, accidentally stepping on it twice.

Though it was accidental, she couldn’t deny it felt satisfying.

When she looked up, Jolly God was already leaning over the partition of her workstation, capturing the satisfaction on her face. With a teasing finger wag, he said, "You look energized, put all your effort into finishing the project for your boss."

A light-hearted smile appeared in Eleanor’s eyes, "Yes, I’ve returned to work, ready to welcome great wealth."

"Go," Jolly God squinted at her, "Stop making excuses for your boss. Don’t think about how much bonus you’ll get, think about what you’ve done for the company."

"Come on, my dear God," a male colleague moaned not far away, "We’re all at this age already. No need to pour our hearts and feelings out; just give us the money."

Tilly poked her head out from the neighboring station, "My dear God, I’ve always thought you’re different from other bosses. They’re all two-faced, but only you want to give us both Aethel and Breslin."

Eleanor stifled a laugh as Jolly God glared at her, the instigator, "Starting a rebellion, huh? Turn your head and look out the window; what do you see?"

Eleanor stood up. The street below was bustling with people, "While others hug and hold outside, I’m here in the company, all ears for the good news."

Jolly God was exasperated, "Is that what I meant? That’s an empire—if you want a piece of the world, conquer it first."

He stormed off.

Tilly waved her arms dramatically, "Oh, my house—"

A male colleague shouted, "Oh, my mom—"

"I haven’t even met my wife yet—"

Jolly God stumbled but managed to keep his balance.

Eleanor giggled uncontrollably.

Tilly didn’t sit down but handed her a bottle of water, "Calm down, you’re laughing like a goose. I haven’t asked, how did your blind date go yesterday afternoon?"

Eleanor’s laughter came to an abrupt halt.

Tilly, "What? Did you meet your ideal type?"

She hadn’t met her ideal type but did meet someone she wanted to assassinate.

Eleanor chuckled drily, "The other party expects a wife to do laundry, cook, serve the in-laws, have two kids in three years, one boy and one girl. I ran away without even eating."

The male colleague was shocked, "What era is this? How could anyone have such demands for a beautiful, cute girl? Eleanor, you should consider me—I have just three words for my partner criteria, I’m begging you."

Eleanor firmly refused, "A good woman aims for more than just her backyard; the grass nearby doesn’t reach my heart."

The male colleague looked at Tilly, who coldly said, "If species were no concern, I’d marry my house."

The morning flew by with laughter; Eleanor sneaked out during lunch to meet Elaine White.

Elaine White took out a card, "I’ve thought it over. A new card stands out too much. This is an account I used abroad; even if Cillian Grant suspects me, he won’t find anything out for a while."

Eleanor accepted it, paused for two seconds, and they simultaneously opened their arms to embrace each other.

"Take care."

"Are you leaving today?"

Eleanor didn’t let go, "Not that soon. There’s a loose end at the company I need to tie up."

Elaine White frowned, "You’re about to leave; you can’t still care about that project, can you?"

Eleanor laughed, "Not exactly."

She recounted how a prenatal checkup at an unlicensed clinic had accidentally been exposed.

"If I run away, and this rumor reaches Cillian Grant’s ears, what will he think?"

Elaine White gasped, "You’re running away because you’re pregnant and guilty."

Eleanor sighed, "Isn’t that a stroke of luck? If he confirms it at the clinic, I could have run for years without him giving up. But with the family bloodline out there, with his importance on family, he won’t let it go."

"So how do you plan to tie up the loose ends?"

Eleanor rubbed her forehead in frustration, "Either make him completely believe I can’t be pregnant or redirect, or cover up the company rumors so no one mentions my pregnancy anymore."

Elaine White was worried, "The first option is playing with fire on Cillian Grant’s face. The second one sounds feasible, but how will you implement it?"

As Eleanor opened her mouth to speak, her phone rang.

The caller ID showed it was Tilly.

The moment Eleanor answered, Tilly’s anxious voice boomed from the speaker, "Where are you? Come back quickly; your sister is causing trouble at the company."

Eleanor was stunned and exchanged a look with Elaine White, "My sister?"

"Yes, your sister, with a flamboyant guy with red hair, insists on seeing you. Jolly God told her you weren’t there, but she doesn’t believe it. She’s sitting at your workstation now."

Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat. If it really was Phoebe Grant, as long as Cillian Grant wasn’t present, she had never been intimidated.

But right now, her workstation had a platinum bag worth seven to eight hundred thousand and Cillian Grant’s coat, right under the desk.

If they were found—

Everything turned black before Eleanor’s eyes, not even having time to say goodbye to Elaine White as she sprinted back to the company.