Belated Moonlight: He Regretted Only After I Left-Chapter 150: Rhys Lennox Gives Up Hope (Bonus - )

Chapter 150: Chapter 150: Rhys Lennox Gives Up Hope (Bonus Chapter)

Shane Donovan was first taken aback, then let out a helpless laugh.

He reached out, his fingertips gently brushing her cheek, "Honey, you’ve wronged me on this one."

He paused, glanced sideways at Rhys Lennox, and leisurely added, "If I had made a move, he wouldn’t be standing here."

Stella Sterling felt her ears heat up at Shane’s natural use of "honey." She gave him an annoyed look but understood.

She didn’t ask further and hurriedly turned toward the living room, "I’ll go get the first aid kit."

Rhys Lennox stood in place, watching the natural and affectionate interaction between them, his heart feeling as if it were soaked in lemon juice, sour and bitter.

He moved his lips, wanting to say something, but in the end, he followed silently.

Stella brought the first aid kit over, gesturing for Rhys to sit on the sofa.

She opened the kit, took out antiseptic swabs and solution, her movements practiced.

As she leaned closer to carefully clean the wound on his forehead, Rhys could smell a light fragrance on her, feeling the gentle touch of her fingertips.

His body stiffened, eyes lowered, not daring to look at her, feeling that every slight touch was like a spark, burning him with unease.

"How did things go?" Stella softly asked Shane while tending to the wound.

Shane took off his coat, casually draping it over the back of the sofa, and sat on a single sofa, "Don’t worry, it’s as we expected..."

He was succinct, his gaze falling on Stella’s hands as she treated Rhys’s wound, his eyes darkening slightly, but he said nothing more.

Listening to their brief conversation, the last trace of hope in Rhys extinguished.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze wandering between Stella’s calm profile and Shane’s indifferent expression, and spoke in a hoarse voice, "So, from beginning to end, this was all your plan? To provoke Uncle Philip Donovan into acting, to catch him in the act?"

Stella’s swabbing hand paused slightly.

Shane looked up at Rhys, not denying it: "The last explosion, the only evidence, the medicine bottle was destroyed, and the tampered clues in the car were wiped clean. Without some extraordinary means, how could they be exposed?"

His tone was calm and undisturbed, as if discussing something most ordinary.

But Rhys’s heart tightened suddenly.

The medicine bottle...

He recalled the engagement party day, overhearing his mother and Philip Donovan’s conversation outside the lounge.

The drugged drink...

The tampered car...

The clues wiped clean...

A terrifying thought entered his mind, making his blood almost run backwards.

He moved his chapped lips, his voice trembling with a last glimmer of hope, and looked at Shane, "Then... my mom... she..."

Shane was silent for a few seconds.

Under the light, his emotions were hard to read. After a moment, he spoke faintly, "Aunt was incited by Philip Donovan."

He paused, his tone devoid of emotion, "I checked the purchase records; the drugs were provided by Uncle, and I suppose the idea came from him. Aunt must have been used by him as a tool, just that..."

He looked at Rhys, his voice lowering, "Such things, understanding is one thing, accepting is another..."

Rhys closed his eyes.

Yes!

How can anyone accept someone trying to poison them?

Rhys laughed bitterly inside.

But who else was despicable if not his mother?

His unspoken covetous thoughts about Stella, how clean were they?

And at this moment, Stella had already finished cleaning the wound on his forehead, applying a bandage.

She could feel the tension in Rhys’s body and thought he was embarrassed about Beatrice Donovan’s situation. She asked nothing, said nothing.

After finishing with the wound, she packed up the first aid kit and softly said to Shane, "I’ll go prepare something for you guys to eat."

Only two men remained in the living room.

Silence spread, carrying the scent of blood and antiseptic.

Shane observed Rhys, who seemed soulless, his brows barely furrowing.

He stood, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured two glasses of whiskey.

The amber liquid swirled in the glass, reflecting a cold sheen.

He walked back, placing one of the glasses on the coffee table in front of Rhys with a clear clink.

"Drink it." Shane’s voice still held little warmth but was less harsh than before.

Rhys slowly opened his eyes, their depths bloodshot.

He looked at the glass of whiskey but did not move.

Shane took a sip himself, the spicy liquid flowing down his throat.

He leaned back against the sofa, long legs crossed, his gaze focused on some point in the void.

"The car was tampered with, the brake line subtly broken, not noticeable under normal circumstances, but it would completely snap during emergency braking."

He suddenly spoke, his voice calmly narrating, "The explosion was both an accident and an inevitability. The spark from the friction at high speed ignited the leaking fuel."

Rhys tightened his fists abruptly, nails digging into his palms.

"When I jumped from the car, if there hadn’t been a river below..." Shane continued calmly without a trace of fear, "I suppose I was lucky."

"The medicine bottle was later found in the river by Julian Sullivan’s men, soaked in water, fingerprints blurred, ingredients decomposed, it couldn’t serve as direct evidence."

He turned his head, looking at Rhys, shifting the conversation, "In fact, I knew about their plot the day Aunt attempted poisoning..."

Rhys’s heart stopped suddenly.

So he knew all along...

"Why..." Rhys’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition.

"Why tell you all this?" Shane finished for him, swirling his glass, eyes deep, "Rhys, Aunt is Aunt, you are you..."

Rhys understood the unsaid words.

"And what about Stella?" Rhys raised his bloodshot eyes, stubbornly asking, "Did you include her in your calculations? Didn’t you think, if any step went wrong..."

"I won’t let her go wrong." Shane interrupted him, his tone absolute, carrying a sense of complete control, "Any danger even close to her will be eliminated in advance. The only one at the scene today could have been Grace Quinn."

His gaze was as sharp as an eagle, locking onto Rhys: "But you, Rhys, your actions today were very reckless."

Rhys looked like a deflated balloon, lowering his head in despair.

Indeed, reckless.

More than just reckless.

He behaved like a maniac out of control.

Because he was afraid.

Afraid of the what-if.

Afraid of the consequences he couldn’t bear to imagine.

And this fear had already crossed a boundary.

Shane looked at him in this state and ultimately refrained from harsher words.

He tilted his head back, draining the remaining drink in his glass.

His throat moved, the lines of his neck taut, that vermillion mark glowing brightly under the light.

"Philip Donovan is finished." He put down the glass, his voice regaining its usual indifference, "I’ll handle things with the matriarch. Innovatech needs purging, and The Donovan Family too."

He stood, looking down at Rhys: "In The Donovan Family, there are few people I utterly trust. Rhys, you’re one of them..."

With that, he raised a hand to pat his shoulder and turned to walk into the kitchen.

Stella emerged, carrying a steaming bowl of noodles, smiling as she saw him approaching.

Rhys sat on the sofa, watching Shane take the bowl, observing the silent understanding and affection between them.

He picked up the glass of whiskey on the coffee table, tilted his head back, and gulped it down in one go.

The spicy liquid felt like flames, burning from his throat to his stomach, the scorching pain spreading to every limb.

He closed his eyes, swallowing down all the bitterness and those unspeakable thoughts.

He raised a hand, wiped his face, feeling a cool dampness he couldn’t tell was blood, sweat, or something else.

Outside the window, the night was thick as ink, seemingly ready to devour everything.

It seemed—

He should just give up...