Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 89: Let Her Off This Time

Eleanor was originally planning to go to Stonewell, but as she reached the office building downstairs, she suddenly received a call from Damian Sinclair.

The street was bustling with people, the background noisy.

Damian Sinclair’s voice came through the speaker, almost imperceptibly melancholic, "Eleanor, are you leaving? Which country in Nordheim are you heading to?"

Eleanor was stunned, knowing that the only people aware of her persistent rebellious spirit and knowing the details were Elaine White, herself, and Mr. Ghost, the smuggler.

Elaine White looked at Damian Sinclair like he was a big fool. She thought that every time he got involved, it was a mess that couldn’t be cleaned up, so she would never reveal her plans to Damian Sinclair.

Eleanor thought of Mr. Ghost.

People in the smuggling business, how could they trust a phone call completely? There would definitely be investigation involved.

She had previously sent a text message to introduce herself, although she didn’t mention Damian Sinclair’s full name explicitly. But the smuggler’s number was so crucial that it was not surprising if they figured it out by investigating and guessing Damian Sinclair.

"I am leaving. As for where I’m going, I won’t tell you." Eleanor walked to a quieter spot, "Damian, I’ve always wanted to formally say goodbye to you, but the origami cranes I released into Trilliant County’s river have conveyed my message to nature’s wind and waters, so today I won’t say it."

Damian Sinclair paused for a long time before replying with a faint "Hmm."

"I won’t say goodbye, but I’ll give you some peace of mind for leaving. I once saved Mr. Ghost from an urgent situation. In this line of business, people might be rotten, but they value gratitude and loyalty. Those two hundred thousand, if I don’t let you pay, you would certainly refuse, so consider this peace of mind as my farewell gift to you."

Eleanor lowered her eyes, "Earlier you—"

"The price I mentioned before, right?" Damian Sinclair had a hint of a smile, but it felt like he was trapped in a thousand ravines, deep seas, and flames he couldn’t climb out from, and soon after, that trace of a smile disappeared like a dying ember.

"That was the bride price for marrying Phoebe Grant."

Eleanor sighed in relief.

She didn’t know what to say; wishing him happiness seemed too fake, wishing him peace might imply she didn’t wish happiness for him.

In the end, there was a long silence, the atmosphere subtly heavy.

Damian Sinclair listened to the soft sounds of breathing close by over the phone, while outside the door, Mr. Sinclair was advising him earnestly.

"This time, it’s not your father betraying you. Even if your father doesn’t stop you, and doesn’t recognize it as bride price, as long as Cillian Grant wants to, you can’t contend with him. Phoebe Grant having such a good brother is her blessing, and it will be yours in the future too."

Damian Sinclair stared out the window at a withering French sycamore tree, its sparse branches shading the morning light.

On the windowsill were two birds; one flew towards the dawn, while the other stayed, staring at him through the glass.

"Eleanor, the smuggler will contact you later. I wish you a safe journey and never come back."

The call was disconnected.

Eleanor put down her phone. The smuggler had already sent a text, arranging to meet an hour later in the city center at Zenith Plaza.

The morning rush hour was congested, and it was estimated that traveling from Stonewell to Zenith Plaza would take at least forty minutes.

Time was tight, so Eleanor decided not to go to Stonewell and hailed a taxi on the roadside, heading straight to Zenith Plaza.

Sitting directly behind the driver, the warm wind from the taxi’s air conditioning made her feel dizzy, and her stomach churned.

After obtaining the driver’s permission, she rolled down the window, letting the cold wind rush in, tousling her hair. She vaguely saw a familiar figure, resembling Leona Lewis, holding a phone and chasing her.

She wasn’t quite sure, and tried to clear her hair for a clearer look.

As the vehicle rounded a corner, the robust cherry blossoms in the greenery completely obscured her view.

Eleanor didn’t call out to stop. The illegal clinic had already been discovered by Cillian Grant, and since Leona Lewis had caused enough trouble, she had nothing to say to her.

.........

Zenith Plaza was a mall over a decade old. Its facilities and layout had fallen behind the times, but a new general manager took over the previous year and embraced a nostalgic, retro style.

In the company of many fashionable, modern supermalls that pursued luxury and grandiosity, it became distinctive, regaining its popularity.

Walking through the main entrance, Eleanor didn’t go far, but instead bypassed the 1980s-style train engine display at the entrance and found a chair to sit down.

As if on intuition, she glanced at the escalator and saw the general manager who had been featured in Soldane Province’s top business magazine, bowing and introducing something to a man in the middle.

Surrounded tightly by bodyguards and mall staff before and after them, they made an impressive entourage.

Eleanor wanted to hide, but it was too late.

The man in the center of the crowd suddenly looked up, his gaze like an eagle’s from high above, accurately capturing her amidst all the noise and chaos.

Eleanor was like a pinned butterfly, frozen in place.

Cillian Grant’s eyes flashed with surprise as he turned to say a few words to the mall manager.

The manager’s eager expression paused and then he looked towards Eleanor. As the escalator reached the top, the grand entourage continued their inspection, and one of the bodyguards headed straight for Eleanor.

Eleanor had just stabilized the pregnancy without bleeding, so if she attempted to run now, she wouldn’t get beyond the door before the bodyguard caught her. So, she stayed put, using the opportunity to text Mr. Ghost to reschedule.

The bodyguard led her to the VIP reception room on the second floor, where Eleanor, holding a cup of hot tea, began to think about how to deal with Cillian Grant.

Unfortunately, before she could figure anything out, footsteps sounded outside, steady, strong, unhurried.

Eleanor took a sip of hot water, and the door was pushed open from the outside.

"Auntie King said you went to work today."

Cillian Grant, dressed in a dark gray business suit with a neatly tied tie, stood in the doorway under the light, his face a blurry shadow, exuding his unique intimidating presence that was difficult to approach.

Eleanor couldn’t discern his emotions, unsure if it was a question, "Yes, this afternoon."

Cillian Grant moved closer, "How about in the morning? Leaving without breakfast – who did you meet up with?"

"No one." Eleanor took a small sip of water. "Elaine’s gone to work, so I was just wandering around."

Cillian Grant leaned over, his cheek now beside her forehead, looking at her closely, "Since when do you have the leisure for that?"

Eleanor slightly raised her head, the invisible steam from the hot water in the cup warming both of their faces.

The light connected them in a line with Cillian Grant. His eyes, flickering with shadows, harbored an unseen undercurrent, and at such a close distance, it was easy to get sucked into them, becoming his captive.

Eleanor raised the cup, "Your lips are chapped, do you want some?"

Cillian Grant’s gaze lowered to the cup, raising an eyebrow slightly before his eyes returned to her face, "Just plain water? Did you add sugar?"

"Yes." Eleanor pretended seriously, "I added seven spoons, sweet as the seven stars in alignment."

"Why seven spoons? And what’s that got to do with the seven stars?"

Eleanor smiled, knowing that fewer wouldn’t block his cunning thoughts, and the seven stars could just transport her away from this big idiot.

"Six sixes for smooth sailing is good too; I’ll arrange it for you next time."

Cillian Grant was amused, the heavy darkness in his eyes transforming into a bright light, "And the time after next?"

There’s no ’next time,’ so how could there be a ’time after next’?

Eleanor pondered briefly, "Five blessings at the door, four seasons of peace, three goats bringing prosperity, two dragons soaring, and one smooth voyage, how’s that? Enough?"

"Truthfully?" 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Eleanor’s stomach began to churn, "Yes, indeed."

Her tone full of twists, utterly sardonic.

Cillian Grant, not being a web-savvy surfer of the internet, knew it was strange but couldn’t pinpoint why or where it was strange.

He glanced disdainfully at Eleanor, taking the cup from her.

Temporarily sparing her this time.