Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 79: Cillian Grant Wants to Take Her to the Hospital for an Examination

Chapter 79: Chapter 79: Cillian Grant Wants to Take Her to the Hospital for an Examination

The sound came from the living room, faintly, it was Phoebe Grant with laughter and joy.

"Child...two months...healthy...going to the Sterling Sinclair..."

Eleanor shivered, got up and went out of the bathroom.

The sound was clearer now.

"Mom, let’s stay for lunch at Sinclair, Dad will come too. Last time you wanted to play chess with Sinclair, today is perfect, everyone is free."

Mr. Grant agreed.

Eleanor couldn’t be happy for long as the next second, Mr. Grant asked, "What about you, Cillian?"

"I’m going to the hospital."

Eleanor clenched her hands, held her breath, and waited for the sound outside to fade away.

Following closely, the sound of car engines roared in the yard.

Eleanor stood by the window, watching as Mr. Grant and Mrs. Grant got into one car, while Phoebe got into another.

The two cars drove out of the yard, and Cillian Grant, leaning against the car door, seemed to have already sensed her peeking.

His gaze accurately captured her.

Eleanor thought her stiffness must be obvious, just like the man, whose facial muscles were tense, with a heavy sense of gloom.

Eleanor couldn’t hide, so she chose not to hide.

She stood by the window, meeting his gaze for a moment, watching him get in the car and drive away.

As the taillights disappeared from her sight, Eleanor couldn’t suppress her excitement, she clenched her fists in place with joy.

What they call a turning point, what they call the boat naturally straightening when it reaches the bridge, what they call heaven having eyes.

Eleanor felt that fortune had turned back in her favor.

Fate was attached.

Even smoother was going out.

From leaving the room to stepping out the gate, no one stopped her.

The butler even asked if she needed a car sent for her.

Eleanor refused with a smile.

She had borrowed Auntie King’s phone to hail a cab in advance, paid extra for the driver to drive up the mountain, with the destination being Elaine White’s residence.

The two prenatal check-ups had led to crises, Eleanor said she wouldn’t want a third time. This time she learned from experience, Elaine found a reliable doctor to examine her at home.

Eleanor turned two bends, and two hundred meters away on the roadside, a black Rolls-Royce lay in wait.

The rear window was half-open, revealing the man’s pitch-black eyes, deep as the abyss, unwaveringly locked onto her.

Eleanor reacted by stepping back two steps, turned around and ran back.

Faster than her were the sounds of footsteps getting out of the car, like a fierce tiger hunting, like a hawk swooping.

Before she finished the bend, Eleanor was hugged from behind.

It was deep winter now, the trees on both sides of the mountain road were still lush and green, unlike the yellow desolate north.

But the man enveloping her from behind was even colder, more biting, more terrifying than the collective of those four years in the north, daring not to come into any contact with him.

Eleanor dared not, she struggled fiercely, kicked.

Seeing herself getting closer and closer to the car cabin, Eleanor’s pupils shrunk into pins, kicking her legs vigorously trying to land.

Cillian Grant’s arm circled her leg bends, suddenly tightened, bent, and Eleanor was like a child curled up in a ball, held by him, yet surprisingly not too tightly.

He always left her a gap, without squeezing her, yet preventing her escape.

Until the car door slammed shut.

Aaron Chase seemed to be waiting a long time, the brake and accelerator pressed once, the car steady, yet fast as an arrow.

The partition between the front and rear seats rose.

Eleanor was breathing heavily, the intense exercise worsening the heaviness and swelling in her lower abdomen, the pain tightening like needles in the lower left abdomen.

Beads of cold sweat dotted Eleanor’s forehead, indistinguishable if from pain, or from fear.

Fear of Cillian Grant.

Fear for her girl.

But the more afraid, the more she needed to stay calm.

She pinched her palm, steadied her emotions, looked at him coldly, "What do you want to do?"

Cillian Grant’s eyes were a tumultuous sea of anger, churning, his gaze caught the sweat on her forehead.

He raised a hand to brush it off, the temperature in his fingertips was a heat deep winter absolutely lacked.

That touch of heat gradually flared into a raging fire.

Spread to his palm, Eleanor watched as his hand struck down accurately, covering her lower abdomen.

"Are you pregnant?"

Eleanor froze.

"What kind of crazy talk is that." She looked him straight in the eyes, "On the day of the physical check-up, you compared the report data item by item, asked the doctor. This month, chaos everywhere, what would I be pregnant with? Air?" 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"I’ll ask you again, are you pregnant?"

Cillian Grant’s palm was scorching, gently rubbing her abdomen, the temperature permeated through her skin and flesh, reaching the sharpest pain spot.

Like the blazing sun dispelling the chill, the sensation of heaviness remained, yet the stabbing pain eased.

"I’ll also say again, I’m on my period."

Cillian Grant’s hand tightened, his jawline tense like a drawn bow.

Eleanor felt his chest muscles hard and stiff, heartbeats wild yet intense, each echoing her own heartbeat precariously, even guiltily.

Sure enough.

Cillian Grant brought up old matters, "You didn’t fake it before."

Eleanor held his hand, pushed away, "You said it was before. Since then, you became more vigilant, saw through me several times."

Cillian Grant stared at every tiny expression on her face, "Once, twice, there can’t be a third. Eleanor, my patience is limited, are you pregnant or not?"

Eleanor’s heart twitched uncontrollably, like an electric shock, numbing her entire body along the meridians.

"No, I am infertile. If it’s your sister suspecting I’m pregnant, that B-ultrasound test on the physical check-up day, she and mother were there, examined it inch by inch..."

"Stonewell, Leona Lewis." Cillian Grant interrupted Eleanor, "She saw you at the Peridian Way black clinic for a prenatal check-up, I coincidentally saw you at the station that day, and Damian Sinclair, his secretary also went to that black clinic."

"For this, he even spent lots of manpower to cover up this trace. But trying to hide it only made it clearer, despite my people unraveling it all, could still find out."

Eleanor’s hand trembled, her pale face gradually dyed with bleakness.

This is how it was.

From the moment rumors first started, she had thought of this day.

Unattended latent risks.

Finally revealed in a shocking manner.

Cillian Grant’s voice tightened, hoarse as if grinding sand, "If you are pregnant——"

"I’m not pregnant."

Eleanor firmly denied, "It’s not possible for me to carry your child, no matter how difficult it is for me to conceive, top gynecology experts from The South and The North, ten plus to jointly diagnose, if you don’t trust me, you must trust the doctors."

Cillian Grant was silent.

After a long standstill, he turned his head to look out the window.

Eleanor’s breath was yet relieved, peripheral vision swept over the scenery outside the window now unknowingly becoming tall buildings.

The car speed slowed down.

Eleanor became suddenly alert, "Where are you going?"

Cillian Grant looked at the scenery passing backward outside the window, "The hospital."

Eleanor’s unchecked breath stuck in her chest, stuck in her collapsing, tightly tugged by a thread of sanity, "You’ve gone mad, what on earth do you want from me?"

"Eleanor." Cillian Grant called her name.

The sun outside the car was dazzling, reflecting his profound facial features, sharp lines, yet the light unreasonably refracted, reflecting all things, also reflecting his eyes.

The usually inscrutable deep black eyes, seemed vaguely filled with warmth and tenderness.

Eleanor sneered.

No matter how close physically, zero distance, negative contact, it couldn’t conceal the cracks and gaps between them like an abyss, like a sea, filling all the negative, awful, extreme things in this world.

Not a bit of goodness.

She wouldn’t get.

Cillian Grant certainly wouldn’t get.

"You don’t need to warn me." Eleanor distanced herself from him, "Cillian Grant, you never believe what I say, what about the evidence?"

She undid the lock on her pants.

A sheet of bright red.