Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 72: Discovered by Mr. Grant’s Secretary

Chapter 72: Chapter 72: Discovered by Mr. Grant’s Secretary

Plus, when Simon Fenton helped her out of her awkward situation in the corridor at Serene Garden, now she was witnessing his embarrassment as well.

More importantly, it was about how they addressed each other. When he emphasized using just "Simon," the fleeting look of resistance on his face seemed more like he was rejecting the surname Fenton, rather than trying to draw closer.

That brief pause from Eleanor—when the word "Eleanor" slipped out, it was as if—even she recognized it now, Eleanor was truly her name.

The difference is subtle, hard to spot unless you’ve experienced the same resonance.

But Simon’s "Miss Eleanor" was a mark of appropriateness, and also thoughtfulness.

Eleanor looped her arm through Auntie King’s. "Just taking a walk, it’s just as convenient heading east as it is west."

Simon accommodating the two ladies’ pace. "And what about north and south?"

"South won’t do—there’s water down south. As for the north, that’s fine, but the grass is green and tender, step lightly and please go around."

Simon was momentarily stunned, took a few steps, and happened to see the sign planted in the lawn. He chuckled silently, "Miss Eleanor, you’re quite the character."

"Thank you." Eleanor replied gracefully, "Mr. Simon, you’re also a man of real refinement."

Counting the recent blind date as well, and these two encounters, whether under the oppressive pressure of Cillian Grant, or just now with the secretary’s veiled threats—his composure was rarely so calm and self-possessed, always sticking to etiquette and self-restraint.

Not the sharp, aggressive type at all—more like a gentle, refreshing breeze.

"Miss Eleanor, you flatter me." His tone was clear and earnest, his caramel-colored eyes full of apology and sincerity. "As for the misunderstanding on the day of the blind date, I really should’ve explained earlier, right when Mrs. Grant showed up. It was me who misled you into the wrong room."

Eleanor shook her head. "I wouldn’t call it misleading; I hadn’t even figured out who my date was supposed to be. And you just got the wrong surname. In a sense, I even cost you your own blind date."

As she said this, Eleanor noticed Auntie King’s arm stiffen abruptly where she was holding it.

She was about to ask, when a surprised voice came from ahead. "Miss Eleanor? Ms. King?"

A man stepped forward, "Miss Eleanor, what are you doing here? Since you left The Grant Family these past few days, have you been staying here all along?"

Eleanor’s back went rigid; she froze for two seconds before pulling her expression together and greeting him coolly, "Secretary Rhodes. And you? Did you buy a place here?"

She’d come downstairs, hoping to sound out Cillian Grant’s mood, only to bump into one of Mr. Grant’s own people.

But she’d had plans to pivot toward Mr. Grant, out of Cillian Grant’s grip. Just she’d been held back all this time, not allowed out, and she certainly couldn’t reach out to Mr. Grant from within Cillian’s own residence.

Secretary Rhodes showing up was both risky and a chance. There was no way she could avoid this, so why not meet it head-on, take control of the situation, push through, and carve out another exit soon.

Secretary Rhodes was caught between laughter and disbelief.

The Emerald Residence’s smallest three-bedroom, two-living room apartment lists at forty million. Secretary Rhodes earned five million a year; with a bit of gritting his teeth and a decades-long mortgage behind him, he could technically be a "distinguished" resident of the mansion.

But he’s famously cheap—after all these years in The Grant Family, Eleanor surely knows just how tightfisted he is.

Secretary Rhodes decided to play along, "Haven’t had a raise in three years. But Miss Eleanor, are you the one buying property here?"

"Not quite." Eleanor managed a strained smile. "I may be financially independent, but my money often isn’t in my own account."

She knew they were both skirting around, but Secretary Rhodes still couldn’t help but laugh. "Sounds like you’ve had a rough time lately, Miss Eleanor. How about I take you home? You can complain to Director Grant and have your money returned to your account?"

He glanced over at Auntie King. "You should come too, Ms. King. Madam has been worried sick about the oldest young master’s injury. She wants to hear it from you directly."

Auntie King reflexively looked at Eleanor.

Eleanor kept her steady.

Seeing she didn’t refuse, Secretary Rhodes relaxed, and finally turned his attention to Simon.

He’s always thorough in his work. In a situation like this—for sure about to face a triple-interrogation—every detail of what happened, he’d have to report it all with precision.

"I’m sorry, I’ve been careless. My apologies." He reached out to Simon. "And you are?"

"Simon Fenton." The man raised his hand to shake. "My father is Kevin Fenton, chairman of Vantech Holdings."

"A pleasure, a pleasure." Secretary Rhodes flashed his professional smile. "And you and Miss Eleanor are...?"

Simon glanced toward Eleanor for her cue, and seeing her remain calm, said, "Friends."

Secretary Rhodes’s eyes flickered back and forth between them. "Forgive me for asking—how did you two meet?"

"Secretary Rhodes, isn’t that a bit much?" Eleanor shifted to a lofty tone. "I’ve been missing my father and mother these past days. If you’re not busy with anything else, why don’t we just go home right now?"

Secretary Rhodes raised his eyebrows, not pressing any further.

Eleanor bid Simon a polite farewell and got into Secretary Rhodes’s car to head back to The Grant Family.

On the way, Secretary Rhodes called ahead to report to Mr. Grant.

Eleanor braced herself to step straight into the storm.

Entering the living room, she saw not only Mr. and Mrs. Grant sitting on the sofa, faces grim, but also Cillian Grant alone on a single-seat off to the side, with Phoebe Grant standing beside him.

Eleanor’s gaze swept round before she lowered her eyes, and despite herself, her palms started to break out in a cold sweat.

Her luck had really been off lately; everything always turned out worse—harder—than she’d expected.

"Father, Mother."

Eleanor greeted them first. As her eyes met Cillian Grant, the chill in his look was as glacial as it gets, making the word "Brother"—which would be a hollow mask—stick in her throat, unable to come out.

In the end, she forced herself past it. "Phoebe."

"Phoebe? You left so high and mighty the other day—I thought you’d finally grown a spine and learned what dignity was." Phoebe Grant sneered. "Dad can’t bear for you to leave. If you want to come back, fine, but let’s be clear—you act meek around me like before, and I’ll drive you out again."

"Phoebe." Mr. Grant cut in with a warning, but didn’t press the issue. He turned to Eleanor.

"Eleanor, where have you been these past days? I even had the police looking for you, and you never turned up anywhere."

There was warmth in Mr. Grant’s tone, which helped Eleanor steady herself, "I’ve been staying with Elaine White. I just... wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t leave the house at all."

This was the excuse she and Mrs. King had hurriedly cobbled together on the way back, using Mrs. King’s phone, and coordinating with Elaine White.

Eleanor carried a deep sense of guilt towards Elaine White.

From the physical exam on, she’d been nothing but a mess—rotten to the bone, dragging her friend down time after time.

The room was silent. Mrs. Grant was waiting for Mr. Grant to speak; Phoebe Grant was staring expectantly at Cillian, all but gloating.

Because her brother’s face had grown chillingly dark, every ounce of hatred, disgust, and anger on display, no longer concealed. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"David Rhodes said they found you at The Emerald Residence."

In the midst of everyone waiting, it was Cillian Grant who broke the silence. "As far as I know, Elaine White doesn’t own a unit at The Emerald Residence."

The moment he said that, it wasn’t just Eleanor looking at him; Mr. and Mrs. Grant were also caught off guard, staring.

After Secretary Rhodes’ call, Mrs. Grant was the first to suspect that Cillian Grant and Eleanor might be living together, and then Auntie King’s sudden reassignment seemed to confirm it.

Everyone in The Grant Family knew—after Phoebe Grant returned, the only person who’d stayed close to Eleanor, and never wavered, was Auntie King.

The second one was the housekeeper.

But Cillian Grant, though suspected, showed zero guilt; on the contrary, he’d become the sharpest one interrogating.

Even someone as shrewd as Mr. Grant was starting to wonder what was going on.

Eleanor forced herself to meet Cillian’s eyes.

"I was looking for Auntie King."

Cillian’s face, just moments before so cold and threatening, now curled into a mocking smile, "Wearing house slippers, were you?"

Mrs. Grant instantly craned her neck to look at Eleanor’s feet—white, fuzzy indoor slides revealing her heels, the ankle just barely peeking out.