Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 112: He Doesn’t Accept It, Because He’s Confirmed the Pregnancy

Chapter 112: Chapter 112: He Doesn’t Accept It, Because He’s Confirmed the Pregnancy

Eleanor shuddered, the exhaustion in her body vanished without a trace.

She understood that the vacation was just a pleasant term; Cillian Grant was indicating that he had no plans to return to the country in the near future.

She had pondered before, Mr. Grant suspected her of being pregnant but couldn’t seize her, there would inevitably be some action, and Cillian Grant wanted to take care of her. In the situation where she might be carrying a child, keeping her in Froskar, far from home, would be the safest course.

But Eleanor hadn’t anticipated that Cillian Grant wasn’t planning to stay just for a day or two, but for a longer period. Mr. Grant was shrewd and cunning; no matter what he did, it would stir waves and threaten Cillian Grant’s position.

He was deeply obsessed with power, having expanded relentlessly for four years, working day and night to achieve his current significant status, knowing well that it couldn’t be easily abandoned.

At such a time, why wasn’t he returning to oversee the situation, instead wasting time with her in Froskar?

With him not returning, monitoring her twenty-four hours a day, how could she find a chance to leave?

"You don’t want me to stay?"

Cillian Grant put down the computer, leaned in and took the milk from her hand, placing it on the table, "Want me to go back home so you can find an opportunity to slip away?"

Eleanor’s eyes widened, "How can you falsely accuse me?"

Cillian Grant hadn’t expected her retort and was caught off guard with amusement, "If you don’t want to slip away, why urge me to go home?"

His frame was broad and strong, shoulders to chest resembling a wall of bronze, inch by inch closing in on her. Eleanor struggled to lean back, "Don’t over-interpret, I didn’t urge you, not in the past couple of days did I mention anything about leaving."

Cillian Grant’s arm propped on the sofa armrest, his head close, "You did."

Eleanor quickly ran through her mind, not remembering it, "Impossible."

Cillian Grant’s eyes revealed a hint of a smile, "Your first sentence in the morning: get up."

Eleanor, "..."

Silence is one’s greatest speechlessness; a smile is the greatest courtesy after speechlessness.

But to someone like Cillian Grant, with his astonishing memory, she couldn’t muster any courtesy.

"Lost for words?"

Rarely was she left speechless, Cillian Grant’s smile deepened. He lifted her, shifting positions, and she lay on top of him as he settled into the sofa.

From below, he kissed her, his nose against the bridge of her nose, not deep, lips and tongue revolving around her lip shape, removing any traces of milk and replacing it with another crystalline, amorous trace.

On the fine hairs around her lips, on the lip bead, on the lips, a cherry color radiated from within.

Eleanor noticed he hadn’t constrained her, immediately propped her hands on the sofa backrest, rising to distance herself.

He had visibly relaxed his guard, his arm idly draped over the armrest.

The moment she pulled away, she was captured, tightened, compressed into a cage where she was forced to bow, dominated by his push to open her lips and teeth.

Eleanor cursed vehemently in her mind, the madman was at it again with his fishing enforcement.

.........

In Froskar, sunrise came late and sunset early; by five in the afternoon, it was already dark.

By nine o’clock, domestic neon lights were just beginning to blossom while here it was already a long, dark night, silent and uninhabited, with snowstorms swirling around the extending streetlights, casting shadows.

The storm was isolated by bedroom doors and windows, in the dense and opaque gloom, Eleanor breathed shallowly, her long hair spread over the man’s chest as she slept deeply.

Cillian Grant waited a while, feeling her long breaths in her chest, then he donned his clothes and got out of bed, grabbing his computer, heading straight to the next room.

The sound of the door closing made Eleanor suddenly open her eyes, her stomach churning with the urge to vomit.

She swallowed hard, curling up on one side.

Given Cillian Grant’s strategizing and decisive plans, he compensated for any delay in the afternoon by working overtime at night.

The domestic situation should be as she expected, turbulent and dangerous.

Eleanor had pondered all afternoon, about why Cillian Grant wasn’t returning to the country, Unable to confirm whether it was for another scheme or waiting for the pregnancy to be revealed.

If it was the latter, Cillian Grant would be excessively cautious, contrary to his ruthless and decisive modus operandi.

When they had just started living together, he wouldn’t work on Sundays, but when work started, no holiday mattered. Sometimes he’d go through documents in the study or have short video meetings.

Eleanor tried her best to avoid him, never entering the study. Until one time, Cillian Grant had a sore throat and mouth sores, erratically asking for water and ice cubes, unhappy with the maid’s service.

Eleanor ran errands twice for him and finally sat in the study, curious about what new antics he might come up with, and he quieted down.

Until a regional general manager called to consult him, Cillian Grant asked several key questions, and the other party’s answers were neither vague nor specific.

It was not entirely their fault, it was a common issue among senior staff, speaking ambiguously, avoiding responsibility. Cillian Grant, a meticulous worker, didn’t tolerate dodgy subordinates and delegated tasks demanding precision.

From then onwards, he began reforming his subordinates and cultivating his own team, which was one significant reason he was able to expand into The North market within four years and climb to the deputy director position before turning thirty. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Meanwhile, beyond a wall.

Cillian Grant was listening to Grant Group executives’ work reports.

A small desk lamp was lit on the table, the light not strong, only illuminating the desk area. Cillian Grant leaned back in the swivel chair, hidden in the dim shadows, the video showing only an outline, strong, relaxed, a cold indifference in firm control.

The executives also relaxed, each finishing their reports. One executive voiced concern, "Your plan is progressing smoothly. But Director Grant insisting on supporting Jason Xavier is not without reason. Liam Xavier is obdurate, flamboyant and impulsive; gaining the upper hand now might not last... should Director Grant realize and take action against him, he wouldn’t stand a chance."

Cillian Grant’s voice was distant, confident, "My father won’t make a move against him."

The large conference room full of executives exchanged glances; one, bold enough, asked, "How can you be sure?"

Cillian Grant seemed in a good mood, rare for him to explain, "Because he thinks it’s futile."

Finishing his words, he ended the video meeting and reconnected with Damon Sharp.

Damon seemed prepared for a long time, dressed formally, his posture upright, "Mr. Grant, as per your instructions, King exposed himself while Director Grant was discussing issues, targeting Director Grant’s suspicion over Miss Eleanor’s pregnancy. He immediately ordered a thorough investigation of previous check-ups, and the special appointment with First Municipal Hospital’s gynecology head by Mrs. Grant."

Cillian Grant sat upright, the video showed his chin; staying up into the night had allowed stubble to sprout, a thick raven-black shadow appeared, his muscles tense, the short stubble stretched uniformly upright.

"Just tell me the result."

Damon’s expression momentarily flickered, hesitant, "Mr. Grant, I deeply apologize. Currently, the result is Miss Eleanor is not pregnant."

Finished talking, silence lasted for a minute, the video only the hum of electronic components, akin to an elderly patient on a sickbed yearning for life but finding only hope trickling slowly, where light reappears only to be a fleeting glimmer.

Cillian Grant wasn’t that ailing person, he refused to accept, having already determined, "The process."

Damon went straight to the point, "President Grant thoroughly investigated the hospital, the entire monitoring was transparent, Miss Eleanor’s blood test results didn’t get tampered with. Upon investigating First Municipal Hospital’s gynecology head, it was found she received one hundred twenty thousand from Elaine White before the check-up. Director Grant met with the head personally."

"He discovered the reason for the one hundred twenty thousand. The White Family Hospital had attempted to poach the head since last year, but she declined until unable to afford her child’s extensive burn treatment and finally accepted the White Family’s offer. The resignation paperwork was done, and next month she will join the White Family Hospital."

Cillian Grant held his peace, waiting patiently for further details.

Sure enough, Damon went on, "Director Grant didn’t believe it initially, but upon tracing back to last year, the timeline matched, the meeting location was clear, along with President White’s call records and chat records with the headhunter confirmed it had nothing to do with Miss Eleanor."

Outside the door, Eleanor pressed her bare feet on the door, her whole body trapped between two extremes, rising and falling, caught in tumult.