Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 80: A Close Call, Damian Sinclair Is Back

Chapter 80: Chapter 80: A Close Call, Damian Sinclair Is Back

Inside the car.

A dead silence.

Eleanor put on her pants, found the car remote, lowered the partition, "Aaron, stop the car."

The speed slowed down a bit, Aaron was puzzled, seeking instructions from the man through the rearview mirror.

In the bright light, he sat upright, his face clear, yet it seemed hidden in a deep darkness.

Aaron keenly sensed that the atmosphere was more stagnant, more oppressive, and carried an indescribable weight than he imagined.

Eleanor patted his seat again, "Stop the car, I’m not going to the hospital."

She knew well that the bloodstains were coincidental, perfectly fitting within her fabricated menstruation period. Cillian Grant is a man, no matter how smart or careful, without personal experience of pregnancy, he can’t easily associate it with pregnancy bleeding.

Right now, as long as she grasped this point, she wouldn’t go to the hospital. Not only could this hurdle be crossed, but the shadow of being suspected of pregnancy earlier could also be swept away.

The man remained silent.

Aaron dared not stop without instruction.

Eleanor turned her head back, staring at Cillian Grant.

His expressionless face, compared to the blue sky and white clouds outside, the noisy traffic, had a cold and profound maturity.

Even in the most crazed and furious state, even when angry and enraged, it couldn’t conceal his handsome bone structure, maintaining a dignified demeanor.

Many women were obsessed with him, enchanted by a slight smile, a glance.

Eager to touch the hem of his clothing, to gain a moment of closeness.

So much so that over the years, no one believed that the person who entangled her day and night, driving her to collapse and despair, was him.

Perhaps some think that his abstinent demeanor, his evil, his ruthlessness, his destruction, is a kind of special.

Eleanor would never think so.

She sneered, "Is this your revenge? To let me experience the humiliation of a slut again, drawing blood, having an ultrasound, like countless times before under the guise of treatment, the glaring white shadowless lamp, the cold and unfeeling long catheter, every time I couldn’t endure the pain, were you extremely pleased?"

"When I come out of the hospital, my parents will rush over upon hearing the news, my mother gritting her teeth in hatred, my father utterly disappointed in me. In their eyes, you remain the moonlight and breeze, and only I pay the price."

Eleanor’s tone was flat, narrating like an outsider, "Then it will be as you wish, transfer my household registration, strip away the Grant surname, and then? Will you raise me up again, cure my infertility, and wait for me to marry someone?"

Cillian Grant’s gaze fixed on her face, his familiar yet cold demeanor, countless hidden words unable to penetrate the sharp silence.

Eleanor had long passed the stage of feeling sympathetic to his other supposed reasons.

She was already beyond recognition because of him.

"Then you’re wrong, I hate you."

From the driver’s seat, Aaron could only hate the car partition panel for taking longer to rise and fall than his career.

Finally, the last centimeter of gap disappeared.

The woman’s abrupt cry was cut off.

Eleanor resisted strongly.

This kiss, more inexplicable than a slap, was unexpectedly explosive.

Fierce, violent, sharp.

In a mutual standoff, they both suffocated until the last second, Eleanor’s vision blurred, her head spinning, ears ringing.

Cillian Grant’s face, inches away, blurred into black and white noise in her sight, leaving only a pair of sharp eyes piercing through the haze.

In a painful silence.

Cillian Grant stared into her lifeless eyes, also looking at himself reflected in them.

Eleanor had a pair of charming eyes, with clear, beautiful double eyelids, which on mornings, when she first opened them, the left eyelid would have an extra fold, making her look adorably foolish.

Yet the foolishness is extremely cute, her sleepy gaze is unguarded, wholehearted.

In a moment of clarity, Eleanor pulled away.

"You said these things." Cillian Grant dragged her back, his palm pressing lightly on her delicate abdomen, as if without force. "It’s just to provoke me, threaten me, not to go to the hospital."

Small shivers crept up Eleanor’s face.

Cillian Grant’s gaze was icy cold, with extreme penetrating power, "You staying in The Grant Family is also to avoid me, you have little attachment to your parents. Eleanor, in four years, I managed to become the Vice Chairman, how many times do you think your tricks can fool me?"

Eleanor’s throat went dry, staring at him without moving.

"You understand, you’re very clear inside, but you perform each time, even if exposed, dare to try next time. Why do you think after the trust is exhausted, I will still indulge in these antics of yours?"

Eleanor lowered her eyes, her trembling eyelashes, spine cold as ice.

"This time, we must go to the hospital." Cillian Grant lifted her face. "Whether you hate me or not, it’s all in my palm."

Eleanor was tense all over, he uttered a single word, his Adam’s apple sliding slightly, sharply protruding, piercing her stomach, striking her organs, shackling her.

"Cillian Grant—"

Eleanor lay in his arms, his heartbeat fluttering against her cheek, the temperature of his chest like magma, erupting like a volcanic earthquake, a countdown to destruction.

Eleanor must stop, save herself. "Do we have to be like this? If I hate you, I’ll never listen, if I marry someone, I’ll run, if I get pregnant, I’ll abort, will you be satisfied then? Why can’t you give me a chance to breathe, instead of pushing me to madness, suicide, eternal damnation?"

Cillian Grant’s hand tightened, a crack forming in the ice in his eyes.

Eleanor quickly caught it, "You already saw with your own eyes, I’m not pregnant. Going to the hospital is to punish me for deceiving you earlier, to teach me a lesson."

Her voice grew hoarse, leaning weakly against his arm, "Cillian Grant, I’m twenty-two, I’m no match for the old foxes in the business arena. I’m not smart, my methods aren’t cunning, I can’t play against you, I just want a breath."

A tear of Eleanor’s slid from the corner of her eye, into her hairline, the cold wet mark tugging at his heart.

Cillian Grant’s gaze gradually relaxed, his palm touched her cheek, his thumb wiping away the moisture.

Eleanor looked at him, her eyes filled with mist, reflecting him, containing him.

"I’m very tired, I don’t have an ounce of strength, once I lower my head, tears fall, I close my eyes, not wanting to open them."

The car slowed down, a vehicle drove in the opposite direction in the underground parking lot driveway, the orange-yellow light illuminating the wall guidance signs, turning green and forming a dynamic arrow.

Pointing to her dead end.

Cillian Grant’s expression suddenly became gentle, his arms strengthened around her, speaking softly by her ear, "This time the examination..."

His words were abruptly interrupted by a ringing sound.

During the previous scuffle in the car, his cell phone had fallen onto the seat, now as he lowered his head, the incoming call displayed was surprisingly Damian Sinclair.

For other callers, Cillian Grant would directly hang up, but Damian Sinclair’s...

He looked at Eleanor, then answered.

Damian Sinclair’s voice was filled with exhaustion, the background was airport announcements, "I want to see you, right now."

Cillian Grant raised an eyebrow, with a hint of sarcasm, "Want to see me? You’re not qualified yet."

"What if I add Coleman Sinclair?" Damian Sinclair sounded confident, "The most important link you and The Xavier Family are missing, is that qualified enough?"