Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 95: Setting Out on the Road to Freedom

Chapter 95: Chapter 95: Setting Out on the Road to Freedom

On this last night, Eleanor slept restlessly.

From time to time, she’d wake up in a daze, observing the colorful neon lights outside the window, which transitioned to solitude and coldness. The city was asleep; it was already past midnight.

She carefully reached for the bedside, and her phone displayed two in the morning.

There was still one unread WeChat message.

Eleanor opened it; it was from Cillian Grant.

At twelve minutes past midnight, "I’m giving you a gift."

A simple six-word message, after four years of studying reading comprehension, Eleanor didn’t feel like analyzing it as if it were an exam.

Read but didn’t reply, turned off the phone, and went back to sleep.

After five o’clock, she firmly declined Elaine White’s offer to see her off and took a taxi to the bus station.

Mr. Ghost had already bought the ticket and was sitting at a snack stall by the station entrance, eating breakfast.

Eleanor approached and realized there was even a portion for her.

"President Sinclair instructed, you can’t eat greasy or fishy food." Mr. Ghost counted one by one, "Steamed dumplings, stuffed with shiitake mushrooms and glutinous rice. Buns, stuffed with cabbage and vermicelli. Soy milk, milk, corn porridge, pick what you like."

Eleanor sat down, "What else did he tell you?"

Mr. Ghost was not impatient this time, "He said you have a weak constitution, might get carsick and vomit, that long-distance travel would make you sleepy, and to avoid excessive jostling. Honestly, my wife was never this delicate even during pregnancy. If it weren’t for President Sinclair’s favor, I wouldn’t want to take on a job like yours."

Eleanor poked at the corn porridge in her bowl, filled with mixed emotions.

Damian Sinclair was meticulous and gentle, never overbearing, prioritizing a woman’s wishes, quietly paving the way, respectful and considerate.

"Over there—" Mr. Ghost suddenly gestured behind her to the left, "That woman with long hair and a white coat, does she know you?"

Eleanor turned her head.

Leona Lewis recognized her face, dragged her suitcase through the crowd excitedly, and ran over briskly.

"Eleanor Grant." She grabbed Eleanor’s arm with a restraining force, as if afraid she might run away, eyes sizing up Mr. Ghost, thinking he was a bodyguard assigned by The Grant Family.

"I have something to tell you alone." Leona pointed to a quieter part of the station, "Let’s go over there."

Eleanor frowned tightly, "I have nothing to say to you."

Leona gritted her teeth, "You all rely on wealth and power to oppress me until I can’t stay in Soldane Province and have to return home. But Eleanor Grant, if you want your scandals to remain a secret, be prepared—I have evidence. Are you brave enough to let The Grant Family see it?"

Eleanor had never laid a hand on Leona, let alone forced her out of Soldane Province. Upon reconsideration, the only person capable of such rumors and actions could be Cillian Grant.

Witnessing the bloodstains and confirming she wasn’t pregnant, giving Leona a lesson for spreading such rumors, causing him a false alarm, perfectly fit Cillian Grant’s vengeful personality.

"Your rumor—"

"Not a rumor." Leona’s eyes reddened, "I have solid evidence. Otherwise, I wouldn’t stop you now."

Eleanor frowned deeper; aside from the rumor, she couldn’t figure out what other evidence Leona might hold, but Leona seemed confident...

She glanced at Mr. Ghost, who turned away, pretending not to hear or see, allowing them privacy.

Eleanor followed Leona to the small alley next to the bus station. Leona took out her phone and showed several video clips.

"You’re with Cillian Grant, right? He often drove you to work, at the alley two or three hundred meters from the company. I paid for the opposite convenience store’s surveillance. Once, he got out of the car and kissed you, and recently, a man like him, affluent and dignified, appeared at Hopper’s to buy chestnut cake for you, right?"

Eleanor watched the video clips one by one, without responding.

Leona glanced at her hand, "You wouldn’t think of smashing my phone, right? I’d advise you to think twice. Such important materials naturally have numerous backups. How about it, do you think this evidence sent to The Grant Family—"

Eleanor was tired of her drawn-out tone, "What do you want?"

"Smart." Leona clapped, "Then I’ll be straightforward—a billion to buy out the video, I’ll retire back home, and you continue to live freely."

Eleanor nodded, "Okay, but I don’t have enough cash on hand, it will take some time."

She was leaving Soldane Province today, heading overseas tonight, entering the neighboring country tomorrow, landing in Cryos the night after. If she could delay for three days, even if Leona disclosed everything to The Grant Family, causing a huge uproar, Mrs. Grant would want to skin her alive, but it still wouldn’t touch her.

Leona said, "I checked online; indeed, a billion in cash flow is rare, but you wealthy second-generation kids won’t lack jewelry, right? That will work for me too."

Eleanor seemed calm, "Today is Cillian Grant’s birthday. You probably don’t want to upset him when he’s celebrating. Hold off till tomorrow, and afterward is fine."

Cillian Grant suppressed her out of Soldane Province easily by raising a hand, and Leona dared to press soft, pliable Eleanor but not risk angering Cillian, reluctantly agreeing.

Eleanor watched as she dragged her suitcase to a taxi.

Mr. Ghost didn’t ask any more questions.

The coach departed at seven.

Just as they were leaving the provincial capital, Cillian Grant sent another WeChat message.

"Why didn’t you reply?"

Before departing overseas, Eleanor still needed to stabilize Cillian Grant, The Grant Family, and delay the time before being discovered.

She replied, "Happy birthday."

The Grant Family.

Cillian Grant leaned against the third-floor railing, looking down at the lobby where Mrs. Grant was happily chatting with several socialites. Phoebe Grant looked discerning, occasionally interjecting with sharp questions.

The phone vibrated; Eleanor actually replied immediately. He chuckled softly, "Now you say it, you’re brushing me off."

Eleanor sent a video, "The office is bustling with excitement, just announced a 200,000 bonus, got too busy to remember."

Cillian Grant opened it; the office, during work hours, everyone dancing wildly, stepping on his pet peeves.

Last year, Grant Group undertook a multi-billion national project. Besides the bank message notifying of the bonus, applause was brief—employees worked during work hours, finished urgent tasks first, before then chartering to the Maldives for a seven-day retreat.

He frowned at the end, "Why aren’t you in it?"

Eleanor replied immediately, "They’re too rowdy, I’m the photographer."

Cillian Grant laughed aloud; Eleanor didn’t like quiet but enjoyed watching others revel. She’d silently observe and occasionally crack witty comments to liven the atmosphere.

Downstairs, Phoebe Grant called him, "Brother, come down quickly."

Cillian Grant scanned the area, his expression unchanged, and replied to Eleanor, "I’ll pick you up tonight."

This time Eleanor took her time to reply; ’Typing...’ appeared and disappeared under her name.

A minute later, "I prepared a gift for you too, tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?"

"Just tomorrow."

Eleanor put away her phone without replying. Cillian Grant was like a lie detector, constantly alert to her—saying more would create bigger loopholes, and catching onto one word made her departure many times harder.

She’d rather not reply, letting him guess. Like the last time he asked why she bought iodine, she stayed silent, handled everything gracefully, and cleared the issue.