Belated Moonlight: He Regretted Only After I Left-Chapter 139: Shane Donovan Is Back!

Riveria has entered deep winter.

Sleet pellets pelt the car window, cracking loudly.

Stella Sterling grips the steering wheel, her fingertips turning blue from the cold.

An hour ago, she had just received the news that the Donovan Family was going to hold a funeral for Shane Donovan!

No one had even informed her!

Soon, the car stopped at the gate of the Donovan Family’s old house, and she was stopped outside by security who had been informed in advance.

"Miss Sterling, right? Mr. Donovan instructed that you’re an outsider, so there’s no need for you to attend the Young Master’s funeral..."

Stella instinctively clenched her fingers, her knuckles frighteningly white.

"Who decided that?"

"Of course, it’s the wish of the Old Mrs. Donovan and Mr. Donovan. The Young Master must be laid to rest."

Stella felt the cold penetrate every bone in her body.

They didn’t even have a single bone, what were they going to bury?

An empty coffin?

Rain mixed with ice chips pelted Stella’s face, like fine needles.

She stood outside the tightly closed iron gate of the Donovan Family, rainwater running down her hair, soaking through her thin black clothes.

The security guards, tall and strong like two walls, stood expressionless in her way.

"Let me in." Her voice was hoarse, not loud, yet carried a stubborn determination, ground out from her throat.

The bodyguards exchanged glances but still blocked her, "Miss Sterling, don’t make it difficult for us."

At that moment, a commotion arose from inside.

It was Grace Quinn supporting Old Mrs. Donovan, coming towards the gate, surrounded by a group of people in black.

Old Mrs. Donovan was dressed in a heavy black coat, her expression dark enough to wring out water, while Grace was in a well-cut black suit, looking at Stella with barely concealed schadenfreude in her eyes.

Across the curtain of rain, Old Mrs. Donovan’s cloudy eyes were pinned on Stella like nails.

"What have you come for?" Her voice was cold and hard, "Shane was cursed to death by you! If not for sending you that damn package, how could he have... do you still have the face to come?!"

She raised her trembling hand holding the Buddha Beads, pointing at Stella.

Grace gently patted the old lady’s back, "Grandmother, don’t get upset, take care of yourself. Miss Sterling might just be... too sad to think straight. But today’s occasion, she really is inappropriate to appear, you’ve heard the rumors outside, it’s not good for the Donovan Family’s reputation..."

She spoke, her gaze sweeping over the guests who were vaguely watching nearby, with a hint of pointing implication.

Stella stood in the rain, soaked to the bone, shivering with cold, but her back was straight as a pole.

She lifted her eyes, rainwater flowing into them, stinging sharply, but her gaze passed over Old Mrs. Donovan and nailed straight onto Grace’s false face.

"Alive, you must see the person; dead, you must see the corpse." She enunciated each word, each like it was dredged from ice water, "You haven’t even found a single piece of his bone, what gives you the right to build a memorial tomb for him? What are you guilty of?"

Old Mrs. Donovan trembled with anger, the Buddha Beads snapping in her hand, she was breathing heavily, obviously poked at a sore spot.

Grace hurriedly helped calm her breaths, turned to Stella, increasingly helpless, "Stella, face reality. Shane is already gone, we are all very sad. But making a fuss like this... only makes it harder for him to find peace, and it makes grandmother all the more heartbroken."

"Shut up!" Stella’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it was soaked with ice, dropping into the rain-drenched ground, carrying a penetrating chill, "Shane Donovan is not dead! You’re in such a hurry to organize a funeral, isn’t it just to grasp everything of his in your hands?"

She took a step forward, her soaked shoes stepping into the puddles, splashing cold water.

The bodyguards instinctively wanted to stop her but were startled into delay by the borderline crazy fierceness in her eyes.

"Get her out of here!" Old Mrs. Donovan finally showed impatience, shouting sharply, her face showing undisguised disgust.

The bodyguards no longer hesitated, reaching out to grab Stella’s arms.

"Try touching her."

A low, cold voice, wrapped in the chill of the rainy night, abruptly pierced the clamor, landing clearly in everyone’s ears.

Though not loud, the voice carried the weight of a thousand pounds, instantly pressing down all sound.

Everyone turned around sharply.

There stood Rhys Lennox not far away, without an umbrella, his black biker jacket soaked in rain, looking darker, his blond hair plastered wetly to his forehead, water droplets running down his sharp jawline.

His icy gaze swept over everyone at the gate, carrying a recklessness that didn’t seem to care for life or death.

Old Mrs. Donovan’s face turned blue with anger, pointing at Rhys, "You... you scoundrel! What do you want?! Do you have to bring outsiders to turmoil Shane’s peace on such a day?!"

"Outsider?" Rhys curled his lips, dragging the thoroughly wet Stella behind him, half of his body shielded her, his movement brooked no dissent.

"Whether she is an outsider, it’s not up to you to say."

Philip Donovan had arrived with a dark face, "Rhys Lennox, this has nothing to do with you! Get out!"

"What if I don’t?" Rhys raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward, directly stepping over the threshold into the water, splashing rainwater from his shoe edge, "I’m going into this graveyard today."

The atmosphere instantly grew tense.

The bodyguards exchanged looks, not daring to step forward rashly.

This Young Master’s recklessness and skills were notorious in the Donovan Family.

Old Mrs. Donovan was breathing heavily, the Buddha Beads nearly crushing in her grip, "You two are rebellious! You’re all trying to piss me off for this jinx!"

Stella was shielded behind Rhys, feeling the warmth and taut muscles of his back.

The rain blurred her vision, she looked at the faces of the Donovan Family, be it angry, indifferent, or schadenfreude, her heart felt frozen solid, yet also like it was roasting over a fire.

She gently pushed away Rhys’s arm blocking her, stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

She lifted her head, her gaze passing over everyone, looking deep into the courtyard, where a shelter stood, faintly revealing the outline of a black coffin.

"Let me in." She repeated, her voice hoarser than before, yet even calmer.

"Don’t you dare!" Old Mrs. Donovan shouted.

Grace lightly sighed, "Stella, I’m begging you, let Shane have some peace. Do you know what they’re saying outside? They’re all saying you are... oh, must you confirm this reputation of a husband-killer, leaving Shane unrested even in death?"

These words were poisonous like needles steeped in venom, piercing accurately into Stella’s heart, already riddled with wounds.

Husband-killer.

These two words were like a curse, clasping her so she couldn’t breathe.

Philip Donovan seemed to have found a reason, with a tone of disdainful condescension, "Stella, if you’re sensible then leave on your own. The Donovan Family does not welcome you, and Shane’s funeral does not need an ’outsider’ present. Take the compensation you were given and get out of Crestfall, don’t show up in front of us again!"

Rainwater dripped down Stella’s hair, her complexion ghostly pale, her lips turning purple with cold, her body trembling slightly, yet her spine stood erect as a pole.

She looked at the black coffin, suddenly chuckling lowly, the sound especially forlorn in the rain.

"Compensation? Taking his things to compensate me?"

She lifted her eyes, her gaze like an ice awl, scraping across everyone’s faces in turn, "You use his things, occupy his possessions, and now even when he is ’dead’, you want to utilize it thoroughly. An empty coffin, what are you burying? Is it his rightful name, or is it your own peace of mind?"

"What nonsense are you spewing!" Philip Donovan’s face changed drastically, a flicker of panic passed in his eye, harshly interrupting, "Guards! Are you all dead?! Drag her out of here!"

But before he could finish his words, a sudden urgent and chaotic sound of footsteps was heard from outside, accompanied by the servants’ panicked cries.

The door of the side hall was violently burst open from outside!

The security guard rushed in, face pale, staggering, lips trembling, finger pointing outside, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Ol-... Old Madam!... Car... Car..."

Everyone was stunned by this turn of events.

Philip Donovan impatiently scolded, "What’s the panic! What car?!"

The security guard’s chest was heaving violently, eyes bulging wide, finally squeezed out fragmented words, "The... the Young Master... the Young Master’s car! It’s back! Parked at the gate!"