Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 160: Piercing His Heart

First of all, the chaos in Froskar is far from home, hard to gather evidence and hard to judge.

Mr. Grant attempted murder but failed.

During the accusation process, the gang would certainly try to exonerate themselves, erasing traces by all means. Additionally, the Grant Family would cover up for each other to clear their names.

In the long process, by the end, Cillian Grant did not cause substantial severe consequences. Although he had a gun, it was in passive defense. Foreign laws typically support self-defense, and if he argues his intent was to protect her, he might just face some fines or be barred from entry as punishment.

But with the testimony of the involved party, Mr. Ghost, in the end, he will be charged with the crime of unlawfully detaining someone.

This alone is enough for her to gain freedom openly and justly at home.

Eleanor’s lower abdomen throbbed with spasmodic pain, the sensation intensifying gradually, awakening her senses with unbearable twitches, slowly reviving in her limbs.

The ceiling was pink, but the light was too bright, stabbing her eyes with a burning pain.

Eleanor adjusted to the light and opened her eyes again.

In the upper left of her vision, there hung a face with a mask, looking at her with polite amusement, "Ma’am, are you feeling okay? The anesthesia has just worn off. If you feel pain, you can tell me, and the doctor will give you pain relief medication."

It was in English.

Eleanor clearly understood the words "anesthesia" and "pain relief," and since the person was dressed as a nurse, she instinctively clutched her lower abdomen. The pain felt like a tightening spasm, as if a hand reached in to grip tightly, releasing, making her heart constrict and twist, and suddenly she was shivering with cold.

Her teeth chattered, making her speech stumble and falter, "I have a child, I can’t use anesthesia."

The nurse looked at her with pity, gently comforting, "Ma’am, I know this is very unfortunate, you have tried your best to protect her, even at the cost of using medication, perhaps the little one just didn’t want to be a burden to you anymore, she also wanted to protect you."

Eleanor’s mind went blank.

Only one word lingered, ’regret.’

What is regret? 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Regret is a past dream, it’s losing, it’s disappearing, unable to retrieve, unable to amend, it’s shattered.

But she had too many shatters, now...

Now there’s one more.

It was her daughter.

Eleanor’s eyes turned bloodshot, veins spread across her eyeballs, she pressed her lips tightly, gritting her teeth, yet within that, sounds of her teeth chattering were endless, fine and piercing.

The nurse was prepared for her outburst of screaming, or to cry out loud, but not for the collapse of silent dejection. She didn’t even cry, her whole body was tense to the point of seeing veins under her skin, a complete shell of a person, crumbling inside.

"Ma’am——" the nurse first turned off the infusion device, the bright red color climbing through the transparent tubing fell back, she then checked Eleanor’s state, "Relax, breathe deeply——"

Eleanor’s gaze began to scatter, her already pale face was covered with a layer of shadowy gray, her world went from silent to ears buzzing, the ward seemed to fade, pink, bright, all turned black and white.

As if swallowed by an abyss.

The devil originally intended for her to be like this.

He succeeded.

She couldn’t accept this result. Since implicating Mr. Ghost, she began to regret, and by now, she could feel the error.

But didn’t know where she was wrong, she was not guilty, rebelling against oppression, constantly losing, never yielding.

This was right.

That’s how principles teach, that’s how ancestors acted.

Words she recognized, in books she read, in the echoes of history, under human resilience.

But the countless regrets, indescribable hate, densely covering the sky, too painful...

Eleanor couldn’t bear...

She couldn’t bear.

...............

Arrived at the hospital.

Cillian Grant took a few strides directly up to the elevator, the doctor had no time to greet downstairs, waiting by the elevator doorway.

The number on the display reached three, a ding echoed startlingly down the empty corridor.

The entire floor had been reserved by the gang since Eleanor’s admission, other rooms were vacated and closed, the corridor’s lights dimmed, only the room at the right hand had bright lights.

The doctor introduced the condition in a low voice.

Cillian Grant stood at the doorway, the small glass window in the door was for conveniently checking in on the patient, at that angle, he could see the whole bed.

The doctor had administered sedatives, she was asleep.

Her complexion was very pale, her lip color faint, nearly transparent, like glass on the verge of shattering, trapped in the quilt small and frail.

The ward lights were off, borrowing the light coming through the hallway, Cillian Grant couldn’t detect the rise and fall of her breath.

She lay lonely there, in dappled shadows, like sunk into a dim painting, a fleeting illusion, ethereal and void, at a touch she vanished.

The doctor introduced a crucial part, "...the patient’s uterus is congenitally abnormal, compounded by the use of strong medication to protect the pregnancy, causing placenta adherence to the uterine wall, massive bleeding which made the miscarriage difficult to detach... Effective measures were taken to preserve the uterus, but she will no longer be able to conceive..."

Cillian Grant’s gaze stayed fixed, staring at the window.

Images of her flashed in his mind, over four years, over eighteen, every frame of her crying, laughing, anger, joy, like a movie but without the order of scenes, erratically flashing back.

Finally, into fragments.

"When will she wake up?" Cillian Grant’s voice was hoarse, like countless blades stuck in his throat leaving it riddled with scars, every word weak with bloody foam, "Can she see me?"

The doctor was surprised. "Of course, she just lost the child, she is exhibiting great anguish, the nurse mentioned her reaction, she might need psychological support upon awakening. At this moment, as her husband, comforting her presence is what she urgently needs."

Before the voice fell, Damon Sharp disregarded Cillian Grant’s reaction, first looked at the gang leader, the leader discreetly shook his head.

This means the doctor wasn’t informed of the details.

"She and I——" Cillian Grant’s latter half got drowned in heart-wrenching coughs, as if his chest couldn’t bear the weight, slowly making him breathless, his lips and face turning blue-purple in suffocation.

The doctor was startled, rapidly holding him steady, preparing an examination.

Damon Sharp received a signal from Cillian Grant, asking the doctor about seeing her, yet a circuit through his stomach left it unsaid.

He was Cillian Grant’s life assistant, frequently interacting with Eleanor over the years, relatively understanding their entire emotional entanglement.

The obstacles and ridges between the two, by now, it wasn’t misunderstanding filling the gaps, it was resentment, hatred, adding blood to the mix.

They had arrived in Froskar, meeting was certain for the two, yet considering their physical conditions, Damon Sharp thought this time, it could actually be postponed a little.

Although it bore no substantive effect, at least it acted as a buffer, missing the peak of emotional intensity.

He rephrased, "Mr. Grant has pneumonia, though non-infectious——"

Suddenly, Damon Sharp’s mouth hung open, unable to utter a sound.

He inadvertently glanced at the window, directly meeting a pair of eyes.

Black and deep, cold, like two collapsed black holes, hysterical hatred yet silently observing them.

Like nails.

Tempered with relentless toxicity, piercing through their hearts.