Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 33: Mrs. Grant Catches Cillian Grant in Her Room
"We only have one Eldon Academy, there’s nothing much to do. If you want to travel, there are several 4A scenic spots in the province. Why come to our remote little county?"
"To experience the local customs and culture. The scenic spots are all cold, commercial operations, and things are deathly expensive." Eleanor chuckled awkwardly, "I’m someone who wants to wander despite being broke, so naturally, I need a special way to travel. I’m alone, so I naturally need to plan more meticulously."
Tilly chuckled, understanding the sentiment of being broke all too well.
This time, her curiosity clearly aroused suspicion, so Eleanor stopped probing further.
She reflected, realizing that probing Tilly so much revealed too much of her motive. Among the twenty-seven people in the group, they came from all parts of the country.
She might as well ask about each person’s hometown; maybe she could expand her list of choices.
That way, even if Cillian Grant noticed, it would confuse her real whereabouts.
.........
At seven in the evening, Mrs. Grant called Eleanor home several times, making overtime impossible.
Inside, Eleanor felt uneasy. In recent days, Mrs. Grant’s watchful eye had become intense, making her uneasy.
This phone call tonight was practically a blatant statement.
I’m going to deal with you, don’t be obstinate.
She arrived in the living room at the last permissible minute, and Auntie King came to greet her, "Eleanor, Madam will be back soon, she wants you to wait in your room."
Eleanor acknowledged and went upstairs.
At the doorway, she hesitated; the door was ajar, dark and deep.
Eleanor’s scalp tingled; she always locked her door when leaving, and only she and Cillian Grant had the key.
She took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and locked it behind her.
The next second, as soon as the light came on, she was forcefully pinned against the door.
She had no chance to react; Eleanor couldn’t even utter a sound before she was kissed.
Eleanor remembered Auntie King’s words: Mrs. Grant was about to return.
She forcefully resisted his tongue, pushing him away, but to the man, it seemed like a rare initiative, which stirred his heart, making him even more aggressive.
Dominant, not allowing refusal, with a tinge of subtle, sullen fury.
Like a cruel tyrant.
Before Eleanor’s eyes went black, she was allowed a breathy release.
"Is your period over?" Cillian’s chest was like seething, erupting lava, pressing against her.
For a moment, she struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing on what to do.
What should she do?
It’s been almost half a month; if she kept pretending, she’d be looking for trouble.
But if she answered no, he’d go mad instantly.
A cold sweat appeared on Eleanor’s temples, "Mother will be back soon—"
The man casually objected, "The door is locked; she can’t get in."
Can’t get in...
Eleanor knew it was untimely but couldn’t help but resent Cillian’s callous nature.
If Mrs. Grant knocked, her not opening the door for a minute would raise suspicion; delaying, then what?
He always only cared about his pleasure, never considering her situation, just like yesterday’s car phone call, knowing full well it would arouse Mrs. Grant’s suspicion, yet he insisted on calling.
Although she didn’t know why he changed his tune at the last moment, Eleanor wouldn’t be foolish enough to think he did it for her sake again.
Eleanor pushed his head away, "Mother said she has something to discuss with me. If I don’t open the door, she’ll be very unhappy."
"Do you think your mother is unreasonable?" He pulled open his shirt, revealing robust chest and ab muscles, radiating offensiveness.
From above, he loomed over, cutting off all her exits with aggressive dominance.
Eleanor blocked him again and again, resisting his hands, "I don’t mean any disrespect."
Too estranged.
Cillian paused as he unbuckled his belt, staring intently at her.
Suddenly, mom turned to mother, and when bullied, she neither refuted nor resisted.
Like a different person.
She wasn’t being obedient and docile; instead, the desire for attention and affection, the earnest longing for acknowledgment, was gone.
"You resent mother for being unkind to you, and you fear me..." Cillian stopped moving, the tide of emotion cooling off.
Sharp as a scalpel, dissecting her heart, "Do you feel the Grant Family is no longer your home?"
Eleanor wasn’t surprised by his discovery. Cillian was so astute and intelligent; had he not noticed until now, it would have been strange.
She earnestly replied, "I have come to terms with reality, no longer wishfully hoping."
Eleanor thought this was the correct answer, aligning with his longstanding warnings and lessons.
Unexpectedly, he suddenly tightened his grip, his expression indescribably terrifying.
His rigid rib cage pressed against her chest, as if it would protrude and pierce her, or constrict her until she was a bloody mess.
Suddenly, high heels echoed down the hallway, the sound alarming.
From far to near, stopping just beyond a door’s width.
Mrs. Grant’s voice, "Eleanor, open the door."
Eleanor panicked, breaking free from Cillian in her urgency, her eyes scrambling around the room, seeking somewhere to hide him.
Stall for just a moment.
Mrs. Grant’s voice grew impatient. "Eleanor? Hurry up and open the door."
Eleanor’s heart shrunk into a ball, her face paling layer by layer.
But Cillian stood there, unwavering, observing her, watching the door behind her.
He had no fear of being caught by Mrs. Grant.
These days, Phoebe had mentioned the Xavier Family, and Mrs. Grant had mocked the Xavier matriarch as foolish.
Regarding heirs, it was crucial for family; there could be no mistakes, just hand over the blame entirely to the stepdaughter, arrange media frenzy labeling her as shameless.
After cleansing the heir’s reputation through PR, swiftly dispose of the wretched.
The methods of high-society matrons were countless, bloodless battles.
Sudden disappearances were minor; the real fear was being trafficked, becoming a lost spirit.
Even if the Xavier heir came, would a tainted woman still inspire deep love?
"Eleanor!" Mrs. Grant began banging on the door.
Moments later, the door handle turned, the lock mechanism clattered in strained clicks.
The noise grew urgent, piercing.
No more delays, Eleanor pulled Cillian, using all her strength to drag him towards the wardrobe.
Yet Cillian shook her off, his breathing unsteady, his gaze shadowed, his hand on the door handle.
Eleanor was shocked, lunging forward to clasp his arm, only to be cast aside again.
Her back collided with the wall, the pain reverberating through her, surpassed by the icy chill rising from her feet, freezing her heart in an instant.
He actually was going to open the door...
Eleanor’s ears thundered, time numerous from every direction like toll of countdown bells, each one a shattering blow.
Effortlessly, undoing all her struggles and self-saving efforts so far.
She had no time to escape.
She was finished.
The moment the door opened, Cillian was beside Mrs. Grant’s impatiently angry face.
Eleanor woodenly watched Mrs. Grant’s expression morph from almost-anger to shock.
It’s difficult to believe, panic.
Then, suddenly, all directed at her, dangerous, sharp, unprecedentedly venomous.
Eleanor involuntarily stumbled back a step.
"What are you doing in her room?"
Mrs. Grant uttered a word, Eleanor’s body uncontrollably shivered.
