Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 99: Cillian Grant Makes a Discovery

The next morning, nine o’clock.

Eleanor disembarked and entered the neighboring country, Garigal. Up to this point, she was still using her own documents.

Border crossing information was recorded and could not withstand scrutiny.

Yet, Cillian Grant was surprisingly calm last night, and Eleanor now recalled that her little tricks couldn’t possibly delay him.

It must have been something urgent, like Mr. Grant mentioned about Liam Xavier’s wife’s miscarriage.

However, this was just her limited speculation based on the information she had, and it could have been something else.

Cillian Grant was a meticulous and relentless workaholic. With the myriad issues at Grant Group, a single matter could make him turn around and abandon his search for her.

But Eleanor felt uneasy, plagued by a deep sense of foreboding.

Mr. Ghost finished handling the documents, pushed through the crowd, and saw from a distance that Eleanor had changed outfits again.

In the domestic deep winter chill, when they set out to sea, they wore down jackets over their coats, but as they approached the neighboring country, it got hotter.

Mr. Ghost previously worried that the young miss’s escape would be unprepared, with clothes unsuitable for the journey, but as the temperature rose, Eleanor shed layers like peeling an onion, always having an appropriate outfit.

He had underestimated her.

"The fake identity is ready, there’s no problem boarding the plane, but once in Nordheim, I’d still recommend getting a local identity for more stability."

Eleanor nodded. Naturally, her identity needed to be swapped multiple times; current trouble was buying future safety.

Mr. Ghost paused, "Do you want to keep the old domestic documents as a souvenir?"

Eleanor, "Dispose of them, nothing worth remembering."

Mr. Ghost chuckled, "Seems like you’ve had a terrible time back home."

Eleanor was not inclined to discuss this with him and instead took out a hairpin, "Can this be sold now?"

Mr. Ghost glanced at his phone, "Yes, two options: one, sell the hairpin and take the ten o’clock evening flight; two, head to the airport now, there’s a flight to Cryos in half an hour."

Eleanor frowned.

Before she could decide, her phone received a WeChat message from Cillian Grant, "Are you at the company? I’m coming to pick you up now."

After entering the country, she had bought international roaming data to immediately detect domestic movements. Delaying for two days had reached the limit of Cillian Grant’s tolerance.

Eleanor decisively removed the SIM card and turned off her phone, "I choose option two."

.........

Cillian Grant waited for two more minutes, and Eleanor did not reply.

He narrowed his eyes.

His face was gathering storm clouds, part surprise, part anger, intertwined with a fierce and oppressive aura.

She had been unusually compliant these two days, responding to messages instantly, answering every question. Every year for his birthday, she would prepare a gift, but without much care.

The size of the shirt was asked from his assistant; the style of the tie was asked from his secretary—whatever was trending, she bought, with a petty budget.

Over four years, she had spent less than twenty thousand, so how could she suddenly gift him two hundred thousand?

Unless...

Cillian Grant abruptly spoke, instructing Aaron Chase, "Tell Damon Sharp to send people to check Elaine White’s residence and Stonewell Corporation. Turn the car around now, I want to return to The Grant Family."

Aaron Chase glanced at the rearview mirror and saw his face ashen, and continued to dial calls.

The car’s interior was silent enough that Aaron could hear his own heartbeat, and naturally, he heard the storm-beckoning ringtone, "The other party has turned off the phone."

Recalling Eleanor’s notorious record of slipping away without a word, Aaron felt like his lungs were suffocating as if choking on blood, his bones trembling with fear.

He dared not look further, promptly relaying the instructions and immediately changing lanes to make a U-turn.

In early January, the deep winter of Soldane Province also showed its austere barrenness, cherry blossoms lined the roadside, their branches sparse, excessive twigs pruned away, leaving only grey-brown trunks wrapped in a hemp-like tree bark.

Heavy and profound, desolate yet unspeakable.

After being startled, the man’s eyes in the back seat became a domain of wild abandonment after a storm.

As the car entered The Grant Family’s garage, Cillian Grant didn’t wait for Aaron to stop before opening the door to get out.

Tall and long-legged, he advanced rapidly, charging through the living room and up to the second floor in no time.

Mr. Grant and Mrs. Grant were sitting on the terrace brewing tea, a scoop of rose syrup, five grams of aged tangerine peel. To maintain her figure, Mrs. Grant added a small handful of barley to reduce puffiness.

In true tea artistry, there’s rolling water in the pot, rolling balls to wash the cup, high pouring of tea, and both wine and tea poured into the cup. The simpler the ingredients, the longer and more bitter the flavor. Mrs. Grant’s chaotic mix masked the fragrance of the tea leaves.

As Cillian Grant’s footsteps approached, Mrs. Grant, seemingly still angry with him, rose with a cold face and swept past him without a word.

Cillian Grant turned his head to watch Mrs. Grant walk away, then looked at Mr. Grant leisurely scooping a ladle of mountain spring water to refresh the teapot, brewing white tea again.

A sliver of a cold smile squeezed from his throat, "Father and Mother are cooperating seamlessly, each act more brilliant than the last over the past two days, delaying until now. It seems Eleanor has already been sent away."

Mr. Grant moved leisurely, yet didn’t dodge, "Do you think Eleanor’s personality would allow me to forcibly send her anywhere?"

The teapot gradually released a faint veil of white steam, separating the two, Mr. Grant’s demeanor was open and accommodating, Cillian Grant’s aura was sharp and aggressive.

"She and you, I don’t need to check to roughly understand—and you understand even better." Mr. Grant calmly rinsed the tea set, "Those who cannot be held back, let them go to prevent resentment."

"Is it to prevent resentment or to keep Father from dirtying your hands?" Cillian Grant’s voice was cold, his eyes filled with anger, chillingly sharp and unprecedentedly penetrating.

"With your methods, once suspicion arises, it should have been concluded. But you’re wary of pushing me into rebellion, leading to internal family strife like the Xavier Family, attracting external threats, and you’re afraid that with Grant Group’s rapid expansion over the past four years, we’ve made countless enemies who might seize the opportunity to attack, even more worried that in a fit of rage, I might bear resentment and force you to retire."

He suddenly laughed twice, a mockery of cold laughter burning like molten lava through his chest, "You’re afraid of so many things, yet you dare to take action—what are you relying on?"

Mr. Grant’s composed demeanor vanished, revealing an eerie face in the misty white steam, "I am your father, and the battle between Liam Xavier and his uncle—you can see the result in the hospital."

He leaned slightly forward, "So, with all my apprehensions, if I gave it my all, at worst, I would just retire, and the achievements of Grant Group over the past four years would become nothing. But would you... Cillian, would you dare to gamble?" 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Cillian Grant’s face was overlaid with layer upon layer of dark, cold undercurrents, poised to unleash a raging storm before suddenly returning to absolute calm. Beneath his placid surface churned an unfathomable abyss, unreadable and impenetrable.

Mr. Grant couldn’t understand.

Cillian Grant stepped forward, leaning closer, "Father, if you truly dared to gamble, you wouldn’t have hesitated and remained silent until now. So why dare now?"

"Is it still Eleanor? You firmly believe I won’t find her even if I search every inch, and eventually, time will ease my dissatisfaction and anger."

His eyes, like a master-crafted blade, pierced through defenses, scrutinizing every fiber of one’s being, "You have control over her whereabouts."

Mr. Grant was suddenly stunned, sitting there in a daze.

Yet Cillian Grant did not pursue the momentary advantage, instead picking up the cup of tea Mr. Grant had brewed and drinking it down in one gulp, "Good tea."

He placed the teacup in Mr. Grant’s hand and strode away.

............

When Cillian Grant arrived at The Emerald Residence, Damon Sharp had already organized the information.

"In the past couple of days, Miss Eleanor, aside from meeting Simon Fenton in the old district—" A glance from the man made Damon quickly correct himself, "Met, she spent most of the time at Elaine White’s place, went to Stonewell but only stayed downstairs, never went up, and did not collect the two hundred thousand bonus from Stonewell."

Cillian Grant’s eyes grew deeper, not particularly angry, but exuding a strong, invisible sense of danger, like the final calm moment before a volcano erupts.

Damon stood at the volcano’s edge, feeling an unavoidable chill crawling up his spine.