Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 97: Cillian Grant Asks Her Where She Is

Mr. Grant looked at Secretary Rhodes in astonishment.

Secretary Rhodes nodded in affirmation.

Damian Sinclair, seated a chair away from Mr. Sinclair, couldn’t hear clearly and lowered his eyes in silence.

At the table, Mrs. Grant’s expression was extremely stiff, "Real age is twenty-nine, virtual age is thirty, did I say anything wrong?"

"Mother is certainly not wrong." Cillian Grant’s smile appeared on his face, but there was no warmth in it, "But virtual is virtual; you only have a son who has lived for twenty-nine years. Does father acknowledge a thirty-year-old son?"

Beneath his nonchalance, an icy dissatisfaction was barely concealed.

The esteemed daughters on either side were as if sitting on pins and needles, awkward and uneasy. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

When invited before, Mrs. Grant had made it clear that Cillian was unaware, but she hadn’t expected such a strong reaction.

Mr. Grant’s face darkened, and he tapped the table with a bent finger, "Cillian, you’ve gone too far. Joking with elders can be intimate, but some jokes are insulting. Apologize to your mother."

Cillian Grant stood up, raised his glass to Mrs. Grant, "I was abrupt."

His tone was distant, his actions perfunctory, and he drank his glass in one gulp, as if pouring a vat of vinegar into Mrs. Grant’s heart, stinging and twisting her heart and lungs painfully.

Ever since she had doubts about Eleanor, the mild yet deep affection between mother and son had grown a faint crack.

It grew larger and wider, uncontrollably and wildly opening up a chasm within two short months.

Her nose stung, "Cillian, your blind date—"

Cillian Grant placed the glass heavily on the table, the dull thudding sound cutting off Mrs. Grant’s words.

"Sorry, mother, but I’ve recently developed a particular dislike for the word blind date." He surveyed the room, his expression sinister and his aura dangerous, "I don’t do blind dates, only expansion. Whoever is interested in me, I will have interest in them."

The esteemed daughters were almost suffocating.

Cillian Grant was one of a kind in Soldane Province, the prime candidate for an arranged marriage. The older generation admired his unmatched capability, while the debutantes saw another aspect.

He possessed a noble and forbidden aura, with an unusual sexual tension.

Last year at the Grant Group annual meeting, several debutantes attended with their fathers, and Cillian wore a deep space gray suit, walking just a step behind Mr. Grant on his left, yet exuded even more impressive presence, combined with youth and a hidden sharpness in his eyes.

After taking the stage, he stood there as the lights alternated between red and blue, washing over his face. As the host introduced the year’s developments for the Grant Group, his name was mentioned every third sentence, and the applause from the audience was thunderously endless.

And amidst the lavish surroundings and under everyone’s gaze, he smiled subtly, calm and serene, like a deity looking down from above, close enough to invite approach, just waiting for someone to draw near and break down his aloof restraint.

To make him fall, so his eyes see you, and his heart feels for you.

But often, before breaking through, he is quite inaccessible, especially if he is resistant, perceiving you as an enemy.

Just like now.

Mrs. Grant’s expression turned progressively paler, then increasingly furious, "You’re being outrageous—"

Cillian Grant looked towards Mr. Grant, "Father, if you raised a wolf, then don’t expect the wolf to be docile and compliant. I will not accept an arranged marriage, blind date, or any form of manipulation concerning my marriage. Just as you and mother are in love, so am I."

Damian Sinclair suddenly raised his head to look at him, their eyes meeting across the wide round table, as if they could see the reflection of the same person in each other’s eyes.

Two seconds later, Damian looked down.

Cillian Grant pulled back his chair and strode out of the banquet hall.

And after he left, the corners of Damian Sinclair’s mouth lifted into a smile, faintly relaxed and at ease.

.........

In the evening, after Eleanor finished eating, Mr. Ghost invited her to the seaside to watch the sunset.

The winter sea breeze was bitterly cold. Eleanor returned to her room, planning to put on another layer of clothing, and as she opened her suitcase, she received a message from Cillian Grant.

"Where are you?"

Eleanor felt her heart sink. She couldn’t give a precise location; whether it was the company or Elaine White’s house, if Cillian were to come looking right now, it would be exposed in less than half an hour.

But she couldn’t not reply, or make it too perfunctory, as Cillian would suspect.