Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 44: The Platinum Bag Is Discovered

Eleanor had just come out of the elevator and bumped into Leona Lewis.

Leona saw her and instinctively stepped back, trying to avoid her.

Eleanor squinted slightly and stared at her for two seconds before smiling and asking, "Up here for something?"

"Yeah," Leona’s face was stiff, "just a little something."

Eleanor tilted her head, her gaze moving past Leona to the open door of the fire escape behind her, "In the company, no matter the size, it’s all official business, why sneak around using the stairs?"

She spoke sincerely, "Like someone with something to hide, what is it? We’ve been colleagues for a long time, I’ll help you."

"No need." Leona took a step back, her eyes evasive, "I, I — suddenly remembered a small detail, don’t want to bother you."

Eleanor didn’t stop her, quietly watching her disappear into the fire escape.

Just as Phoebe Grant came to the company causing a bit of a stir, Leona showed up getting close, she didn’t seem like someone who could peacefully turn the page.

Eleanor’s temples were throbbing, she had long known that the relationship with Cillian Grant was fraught with crisis, but never like now, a boat full of holes, too many leaks to fix.

She carried that never-ending annoyance as she entered the project team area.

She heard Jolly God loudly rebuking, "Employee computers save all company secrets, if you keep refusing to heed warnings, I’ll call security."

Eleanor’s eyelids twitched, she quickly walked over.

Theodore Voss was blocking the workstation entrance, holding back Jolly God and a group of people, Phoebe Grant was sitting at her workstation, touching everything, the desktop was a complete mess.

"Phoebe Grant, you graduate from dog school." Eleanor moved past Jolly God, pulling Theodore Voss, "Get out with your male fox spirit quickly."

Phoebe Grant ignored her, bending down to open the cabinet under the table.

Eleanor’s back bristled instantly, she shoved Theodore aside, entering the workstation to grab Phoebe’s clothes, "You have sticky fingers, what did your mother teach you about rules and manners, didn’t you learn anything?"

Phoebe’s gaze was fixed at the deepest part beneath the desk, ignoring Eleanor’s tugging, she crouched down and pulled out something from the shadows.

Heavy, bulging, a milkshake-white limited edition platinum bag, worth twice her allocation and waited a month for, stuffed out of shape.

Over the years, the spending Mrs. Grant provided Eleanor couldn’t even add up to the buckle of this platinum bag. Moreover, every year for Mr. and Mrs. Grant’s birthdays, Eleanor’s gifts never stopped, tallying up far exceeds the spending they gave her.

Even with her previous savings, she couldn’t get this bag.

Her fake heiress identity was exposed to the public, those luxury boutique clerks had long kicked her out of the VIP list.

It could only have been gifted by someone else, and someone with wealth and status comparable to The Grant Family.

Phoebe Grant looked up and asked sharply, "Who gifted this to you?"

Eleanor grabbed it back quickly and threw it over to Tilly’s workstation, "A colleague bought a replica, it’s not mine."

"You think I’m blind?" Phoebe Grant stood up, "What replica has the craftsmanship and feel of a genuine bag?"

Eleanor ignored her, pulling her out of the workstation, "Let’s talk outside."

"Are you guilty?" Phoebe Grant swung her hand aside and headed straight for Tilly’s workstation, "If you don’t explain about this bag today, don’t even think about leaving."

At this point, Tilly was already sure, Eleanor’s sister was no friendly visitor.

She quickly blocked her workstation entrance, pulling out her phone, "I advise you to stop this, come any closer and I’ll call the police immediately."

Phoebe Grant, since returning to The Grant Family, had been coddled by her parents and spoiled by her brother, she was used to being arrogant.

Not to mention the police, even if the mayor came, she wouldn’t be afraid, her steps didn’t stop at all.

Unexpectedly, Theodore Voss stopped her, glancing at Eleanor a few steps away standing with Tilly, "Can’t go big, my parents just visited your home—"

He deliberately lowered his voice, even if Eleanor craned her ear she couldn’t hear it.

Only saw Phoebe Grant burning with anger, but suddenly calm a few breaths later, commanding Eleanor, "About the Voss Family’s matter, express your stance at home now."

Eleanor was baffled, The Voss Family had quite the reputation and business, what did they need her stance for, and since when did The Grant Family care about her stance.

Nevertheless, she didn’t ask more, at the moment it was most important to get Phoebe Grant out of the company.

Once the three of them left, the tense atmosphere in the office loosened.

Jolly God clapped his hands, ordered everyone back to their workstation, a female colleague suddenly raised her phone, exclaiming, "Phoebe Grant! That woman earlier, is the real heiress who returned to The Grant Group four years ago, Phoebe Grant."

The office fell silent for a moment, then exploded into chatter.

Tilly quickly dashed to the female colleague’s side, hooking her arm around her shoulder to look at the phone, others who had sat down, now also crowded over.

"Then Eleanor—"

"Fake heiress?"

Jolly God squeezed in, suddenly understanding, "No wonder Eleanor knew The Grant Botanical Gardens’ data."

The group exchanged puzzled looks, "With Eleanor here, wouldn’t we—"

Before finishing, Tilly suddenly raced back to her workstation, grabbing the bag that Eleanor threw on the floor, her movement was so aggressive that the bag mouth opened, revealing a men’s coat slipping out.

Tilly fumbled to pick it up, Jolly God came over to help organize, his hand stopped.

The coat’s fabric felt light and smooth, its color rich and vibrant, the texture was definitely not ordinary cashmere material.

Recently the female colleague who discovered Phoebe Grant’s identity snuck over, curiously touched it, "Wow, this is guanaco wool, when I was in college, I worked part-time at a fabric studio and saw it, this material is imported and requires a permit from the ’Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora’, making one coat starts at at least 200,000."

The colleagues felt like doors to a new world were opened, gathering around again, "Eleanor is undoubtedly a member of The Grant Family, but why is this coat men’s style?"

Tilly’s hand paused, someone muttered, "Speaking of which, I saw earlier this morning near the alley by the company, a Rolls-Royce with license plate South A05050, wouldn’t it also belong to The Grant Family?"

Jolly God was stunned, "Are you sure the license plate is South A05050? That’s the car of The Grant Family’s eldest son, Cillian Grant."

When he took over the project, President Byron had casually mentioned Cillian Grant, saying he is a man who hides his emotions well, an old fox in the business world, probes minds like a spirit, yet no one can guess his thoughts.

A license plate clearly with special meaning, has hung up for three or four years, not one person has found out the answer, to appropriately flatter him.

"Then... this coat... wouldn’t it be his?"

The fragmented voice was unusually clear in the silent office, Leona Lewis shrank at the fire escape, holding her breath and listened to the entire process.

Eleanor is the fake heiress of The Grant Family, takes Cillian Grant’s car to work, plus Cillian Grant’s coat...

Her relationship with Cillian Grant is so good, yet she was accused of pregnancy and miscarriage by herself.

Leona was so frightened she could barely stand, Eleanor’s attitude towards her earlier was so hostile, clearly not planning to let her go.

She couldn’t sit back and wait.

Leona’s limbs weakened, suddenly thinking about earlier, Eleanor and the real heiress of The Grant Family had a few rounds of fight, didn’t seem like sisters, more like enemies.

An enemy’s enemy could be an ally, maybe she could ask the real heiress for help?

...

Eleanor returned to The Grant Family, as she stepped into the living room, the atmosphere was tense, the air felt solid.

On the sofa, Mrs. Grant couldn’t uphold her regal demeanor, her eyes fierce and wide open, beside her Theodore’s parents, one with a heavy expression, and the other aggrieved.

The three of them with six eyes were all fixed on the lone sitting Cillian Grant opposite, the man remained cool and sharp as ever, his posture upright, but his expression was calm and composed, even appearing somewhat distracted.

Eleanor hesitated, didn’t step forward, then heard Mrs. Grant speak, "Just Theodore’s few words on a small matter, isn’t it enough for your mother to step in for The Voss Family to stop?"

Eleanor’s raised foot completely came down.

Cillian Grant’s voice was indifferent, "No stop."