Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 122: Wants to Die, but It Feels Like Someone Else Deserves It

Chapter 122: Chapter 122: Wants to Die, but It Feels Like Someone Else Deserves It

The meeting host finished reporting the background and moved to the voting phase.

Mr. Grant first expressed his opinion, "A thousand-mile dam can be breached by the smallest ant hole; when one shows up, many must already exist. I propose to stop all projects in cooperation with The Xavier Group and initiate an internal investigation."

As soon as he finished speaking, a brief moment later, the entire room burst into an uproar.

The directors looked at each other in disbelief.

If this proposal passes, the efforts Cillian Grant has put in over the past four years would be in vain, his status and influence would collapse overnight, leaving him with just an empty title of Vice Director.

People knew the father and son were competing, but they didn’t expect it to be a life-or-death struggle.

Mr. Grant scanned the room, noticing two-thirds of the directors showing signs of resistance, he smiled and said, "Let’s vote."

Predictably, someone immediately stood up, "Wait a minute."

The person rose, "Director Grant, we understand your concern for the group, but whether the project in question truly had construction shortcuts is still unknown. Reacting based solely on a real-name report, stopping all projects, excluding the daily losses for now, if someone is maliciously targeting the Grant Group, and we stumble in without checking, it would be too foolish."

Mr. Grant gestured with his hand to invite further discussion, "What is your suggestion?"

"Discuss it further when the Vice Director returns, then make a decision."

Mr. Grant’s smile remained unchanged, "Where is the Vice Director?"

Secretary Rhodes immediately stepped forward and reported loudly, "The Vice Director is abroad for an inspection, which will last a month."

Mr. Grant tapped his fingers on the table, "The projects with The Xavier Group have national relevance, where construction quality is above everything—above me, above the Vice Director, above the calculations in the minds of all present. If there is any mistake, stop the construction immediately for self-inspection. If the report proves true, then everyone, including myself and the Vice Director, should surrender and apologize to the nation."

The atmosphere in the large meeting room became intricate and tense.

The Xavier Group’s project, when examined closely, was somewhat related to the national projects in a roundabout way. However, they couldn’t outright deny any connection with the nation.

With such a significant accusation laid down, the directors’ resistance dwindled by thirty percent instantly.

Mr. Grant didn’t push further, "I know everyone present has formed some opinion. Halting all projects would cause immeasurable losses to the group. So instead——"

He stood up, "Establish an audit team immediately, and first examine the projects in question. The Vice Director’s abroad inspection is canceled, and it will be discussed further when he returns."

Human nature is such that if you want to open a window, you first tear down a house. The directors knew this point well, yet they thought canceling an inspection abroad was no big deal. When Cillian Grant returns, he could surely resolve the situation with his skills.

There’s a subtle smile in Mr. Grant’s eyes, but what he wants isn’t tearing down the house or opening the window; he merely wants to see his son in the country.

Luring the tiger from the mountain, to return to the cub.

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

After lunch, Cillian Grant received several phone calls from directors staunchly supporting him.

"Vice Director, Director Grant is trying to take action against you, and he’s completely serious."

"If the Xavier Group project succeeds, you could become the Chairman. Director Grant’s actions right now are aggressive, please come back immediately to take control of the situation."

"The audit team meeting, its attendees are all appointed by Director Grant, impermeable to persuasion. Without your decision on the mess left by Liam Xavier, there’s no one who can challenge Director Grant."

Cillian Grant uniformly replied that he was aware.

He put his phone on silent, went upstairs, and turned the door handle, which Eleanor had locked from the inside.

The keys to the entire villa were handed to him upon arrival; Cillian Grant turned to fetch them.

The sound of the key turning in the lock was extremely piercing and vicious in the room’s silence.

Eleanor’s eyes were filled with sarcasm.

This is truly Cillian Grant—dictatorial and authoritarian, unyielding and obstinate, never empathetic to anyone.

No.

He would empathize with Mrs. Grant, Phoebe Grant, and his father, those of his blood relations.

As for her, she was merely a pet he had faint interest in; because she was pregnant, she was temporarily considered precious.

Unfortunately, the pet didn’t appreciate his favor; despite his ample display of tolerance and affection, she remained disobedient, defiant, and non-compliant with his arrangements, baring her teeth and growling at him.

Eleanor turned her back to the door, curling up under the sheets.

Footsteps approached from behind, and a corner of the sheets was lifted.

The man’s strong, muscular body embraced her from behind, pressing against her chest, solid and broad, not swelling much, the heartbeat also slow and steady.

Eleanor could no longer imagine the terror he exuded before lunch. Amid a catastrophic collapse, her bit of despair did not ease; he remained calm, his self-control beyond ordinary.

Reflecting on their cohabitation over those four years, she lost more than she won, but she had indeed achieved victories.

But were those victories genuine against his artful exeptionality at this moment, or was he simply letting her win, giving her a little sweet taste when he noticed she was near breaking?

Cillian Grant lifted her clothing, his scorching palm pressing against her abdomen, flat and smooth as before, yet now transformed into two people with three heartbeats, a sensibly extraordinary feeling.

Joy, sincere fear, excitement, countless emotions churned repeatedly in her heart, swelling until they were sour and tender.

"We will soon be able to see him."

Cillian Grant’s deep magnetic voice was only two to three inches from her ear; his breath formed columns, rushing into her ear canal, provoking a tingling itch.

Eleanor shifted away, "I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed."

Cillian Grant’s lips settled gently on her ear, soft and warm, like a breeze in March, drifting across willow twigs, clinging to her neck. "You always have a hard mouth."

Her stomach churned, the food she’d ingested surged to her throat.

She furrowed her brows, "Gentle and kind doesn’t suit you. Cillian Grant, you pretend once, and I feel nauseated for a year. At this point, there’s no need for a façade of peace; use your methods just as you did those four years ago."

Cillian Grant’s chest rose and fell like enormous waves and tides, shaking as they came, and then disappeared again, "Eleanor, in these four years, had you listened just once, chosen rightly just once..."

Eleanor violently retched, expelling shrimp and beef that she forced down for lunch, spewing onto a pillow.

She was utterly disgusted, repulsed by the filth, and by Cillian Grant; she sat up abruptly and pushed him away, heading to the washroom.

She returned.

The sheets were replaced; Cillian Grant stood at the doorway talking to a blonde female doctor, accompanied by several assistants in white lab coats; Eleanor didn’t see the examination equipment.

She surmised they must be downstairs.

She knew full well there was no escaping this time and didn’t engage in futile resistance.

To Cillian Grant, she was akin to a cat or dog; when domesticating a pet, sharp claws and teeth may scratch a bit, but that’s inconsequential.

Yet, if an owner decides to do something, like bathing the pet or visiting the pet hospital for neutering, regardless of the pet’s aversion to water or reluctance to be incomplete.

The final outcome remains unchanged.

The only difference was the process, whether she complied willingly or went forcibly restrained.

Eleanor despised this sense of helplessness.

She wanted to die, but felt others were deserving of it instead.