Belated Moonlight: He Regretted Only After I Left-Chapter 180: Having Her...

The name ’Stella Sterling’ scraped precisely over Rhys Lennox’s eardrums like a hook.

His fingertips, holding the cigarette butt, paused almost imperceptibly, as the ash sizzled down.

Yet his face still bore that nonchalant mockery: "Don’t understand human speech? Get lost."

Philip Donovan, however, remained unhurried, leaning slightly forward, his voice dropping lower, like a snake hissing: "Rhys, stop pretending. You know you haven’t given up on Stella. You may deceive Shane Donovan, but you can’t deceive me."

Rhys Lennox’s eyes darkened suddenly, and a surge of animosity erupted, as he clenched his fist fiercely, veins bulging on his hand, nearly ready to spring up.

Philip Donovan quickly raised his hand to indicate calm, "Don’t rush, let me finish."

He observed Rhys’s reaction, feeling calmer inside, "Rhys, we were all deceived by Shane Donovan! He’s nothing but a sanctimonious hypocrite..."

He took a deep breath, as if the words were difficult to say, but he had to: "Ten years ago, Stella was only fifteen or sixteen, and Shane— he— harbored vile intentions towards her! Tried to molest her!"

"Boom—!"

Rhys felt as if a thunderbolt had exploded in his mind, blood rushing to his head, then quickly freezing.

He bolted upright, staring intensely at Philip Donovan, voice forced out of his throat, hoarse to the point of distortion: "Say that— again?"

Philip Donovan was startled by his demeanor but couldn’t stop with an arrow already notched.

Bracing himself, he embellished Owen Callahan’s tale that turned black into white, with an indignant tone, as if empathizing:

"Owen saw it with his own eyes! He nearly got beaten to death by Shane Donovan trying to stop him! Aidan Sterling knows too, which is why he always opposed Stella being with Shane! Stella’s father— Theodore Sterling, met Shane Donovan on the rooftop the other day just to question him about this!"

He paused, lowering his voice, "But Shane feared exposure, so in a fit of rage, he pushed Theodore off the top floor!"

"Stella knows about this too, otherwise why would she break off the engagement with Shane..."

As he spoke, he opened his phone, pulling up a photo to pass it over.

"Owen took this photo at the time..."

Rhys didn’t take it, his gaze landing on the photo on the phone, fists clenched tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand, fingernails digging into his palm, blood seeping out, yet he felt no pain.

Philip Donovan watched his struggle with satisfaction, continuing to dangle the bait: "Rhys, work with me. I’ll help you... topple Shane Donovan. You’ve got half Donovan blood in you; the Donovan Group should rightfully be yours! Why always remain overshadowed by Shane?"

His voice carried a devil’s whisper: "Then, you can stand openly by Stella’s side, protect her, have her..."

Rhys abruptly closed his eyes, Adam’s apple moving violently, veins bulging on his forehead.

Philip Donovan’s words were like thunder on a clear day, stirring up a storm inside him.

Those base and crazed thoughts he had repressed, like beasts breaking free from their cages, roared and charged at his rationality.

To have her...

To protect her...

To own her...

These words were like a spell, carrying a lethal allure.

A molten mixture of jealousy and some twisted possessiveness burned in his chest like magma.

Rhys remained silent, the cigarette between his fingers burned to the end, the searing sensation coming through.

He expressionlessly stubbed out the cigarette in a crystal ashtray, with a soft "sizzle."

After a long while, he looked up, his dark gaze settling on Philip Donovan’s face, devoid of any warmth:

"...What do you plan to do?"

...

On the twenty-eighth of December, the approaching New Year’s cheer was entirely suppressed by the continuous gloomy clouds, even the wind carried a piercing dampness.

Dusk fell, the city lights just coming on, but the brilliance of Crestfall couldn’t reach that rundown alley in the west part of the city, slated for demolition.

One street lamp at the entrance was broken, the other barely hanging on, casting ghostly shadows on the wet ground.

Stella Sterling stood alone at the boundary between light and dark.

She wore a camel wool coat, her scarf covering half her face, leaving only her clear eyes exposed.

Her fingertips fidgeted unconsciously with the cold phone case in her pocket.

On the screen was Owen Callahan’s last message, with just an address and a suggestive phrase: [Eldest Miss Sterling, waiting for you.]

Her stomach churned.

Footsteps echoed in disarray from the depths of the alley. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Three or four crooked silhouettes elongated by the dim light reached her feet first.

Leading them was Owen Callahan.

He wore a puffy down jacket, greasy hair, shadows under his eyes, his mouth curled with undisguised greed and satisfaction in his gaze.

"Oh, you really came?" Owen sized her up, "You’ve got guts, Eldest Miss Sterling."

Three men trailing him, unruly and leering, closed in with ill intentions, forming a semi-circle around her.

Stella suppressed the disgust and a tinge of instinctive fear in her heart, standing straight, her voice deliberately cold and calm: "Where’s the photo?"

"Why rush?" Owen chuckled, stepping closer, almost close enough to smell the cheap tobacco and alcohol reek off him, "Let’s... talk first?"

He reached out, trying to touch Stella’s face.

Stella sharply turned her head to dodge, her gaze as piercing as icicles: "Don’t touch me!"

"What’s wrong with touching you?"

Owen’s face darkened, his feigned patience spent, baring his true fierce nature, "You think you’re still that high and mighty Sterling Family’s heiress? Your dad’s a living corpse, Shane Donovan doesn’t want you anymore! What are you supposed to be now?"

Before his words were finished, a blond thug beside him cut in with a cheeky grin: "Owen, what’s the point of talking to her? Just take her away!"

"Yeah, this girl’s really something..."

The vulgar words drilled into her ears, Stella’s fingertips dug into her palms, pain kept her awake.

She was gambling, betting that the people behind Owen hadn’t gotten what they ultimately wanted, betting that they wouldn’t immediately go for the kill.

She was waiting for the best moment to close the net.

"The photo is on my phone," Owen waved his phone, with a lecherous smile, "Come quietly with us, we’ll find a quiet place, and I’ll... show you slowly."

He signaled, the other three immediately closed in, reaching to grab Stella’s arm.

"Bang!"

A muffled sound!

Accompanied by a piercing scream, the thug who had tried to touch Stella flew backward as if hit by a speeding truck, slamming hard into the opposite crumbling wall, sliding down limply, knocked out without a word.

Everything happened too fast!

Neither Owen nor the other thug saw who arrived!

All they saw was a black silhouette, like a specter, carrying a biting wind and terrifying hostility, storming into this small space.

—Rhys Lennox!