Belated Moonlight: He Regretted Only After I Left-Chapter 184: They’re Trying to Send Him Away

Chapter 184: Chapter 184: They’re Trying to Send Him Away

"Enough."

Shane Donovan finally spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it carried the weight of a thousand pounds, instantly quelling all of Philip Donovan’s screams.

He didn’t look at Rhys Lennox; his gaze landed on the crazed Philip Donovan, eyes cold as if he were looking at a dead man.

"Uncle, your desperate struggle is quite unsightly."

His tone was calm, even carrying a trace of faint mockery, "Your crimes, one by one, the evidence is conclusive. Dragging out these irrelevant matters won’t change the outcome."

"Irrelevant?"

Philip Donovan seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world. He laughed hysterically until tears came out, "Hahaha... Shane Donovan, you’re deceiving yourself! You’re clearly doubting too! You..."

"Bang!"

The living room door was pushed open from the outside, interrupting Philip Donovan’s words.

Several uniformed police officers entered. The lead officer showed his credentials, expression serious, "Mr. Philip Donovan, we have received a report and have gathered conclusive evidence confirming your involvement in instigating slander, commercial fraud, and being connected to a deliberate murder case. Please come with us to the station for investigation."

The appearance of the police was like a pot of ice water, dousing the last of Philip Donovan’s arrogance.

His face froze into extreme fear, his body trembled uncontrollably, lips quivering as he attempted to speak, only managing to produce a broken, wheezy sound.

"No... I won’t go... Dad! Mom! Save me! Save me!" He looked toward Old Mr. and Mrs. Donovan as if grasping at straws, crying helplessly, not a shred of his previous arrogance remaining.

Old Mr. Donovan closed his eyes, let out a heavy sigh as if he aged ten years in an instant, and waved his hand, exhausted, "Take him away."

"Philip! My son!" Old Mrs. Donovan suddenly lunged forward, clutching Philip Donovan’s wheelchair fiercely, wailing, "You can’t take him away! You can’t take him! He’s been wronged!"

She abruptly turned her head, bloodshot eyes glaring venomously at Shane Donovan, her sharp nails almost reaching his face, "Shane Donovan! You bastard! Beast! You won’t even spare your own uncle! You’ll get your comeuppance! You’ll die a miserable death!"

Shane Donovan looked at her without expression, his eyes devoid of any ripples.

Old Mr. Donovan’s temple veins throbbed at the sound. He slammed the table vigorously, stood up, and pointed at Old Mrs. Donovan, shouting sternly, "Shut up! Look at the good son you raised! Malicious, unscrupulous! It’s all you! Spoiling and indulging him from a young age, and now he’s become lawless like this! He’s disgraced the Donovan Family! You still have the face to make a scene here?!"

Old Mrs. Donovan trembled all over at his roar, looking at Old Mr. Donovan in disbelief, seeing the undisguised disgust and reproach in his eyes. Her heart sank like ice.

She stopped wailing, slowly released her grip on Philip Donovan, and stood up slowly.

She stared at Old Mr. Donovan, her eyes no longer holding the reliance and affection of the past, leaving only utter despair and ...

A barely perceptible trace of malice.

Old Mr. Donovan felt a chill at her gaze, but in his anger, he couldn’t be bothered anymore.

He closed his eyes wearily, waved his hand, and said to the police, "Take him away."

The police no longer hesitated, stepping forward to forcibly lift Philip Donovan from the wheelchair.

"No... no... I can’t go to prison... Dad! Mom! Save me!" Philip Donovan completely broke down, tears streaming as he struggled to crawl down from the wheelchair to grab Old Mr. Donovan’s trouser leg.

But the police seized his arms first and dragged him out with force.

"Mom! Mom... save me..."

That voice was piercing, scratching Old Mrs. Donovan’s eardrums.

But she didn’t move.

She just stood there, watching her son being dragged out of the living room like a dead dog, disappearing into the night outside the door.

She tugged at the corners of her mouth, as if she wanted to smile, or maybe in self-mockery.

"Vincent Donovan," she called Old Mr. Donovan by his full name, her voice not loud but clearly penetrating everyone’s ears, "All these years, in your heart, our mother and son... are of this existence."

Old Mr. Donovan was momentarily stunned by her gaze and tone, forgetting to react.

Old Mrs. Donovan did not wait for his answer, nor did she acknowledge Beatrice Donovan’s terrified eyes nearby.

She straightened her back, walking step by step towards the staircase.

Her back was resolute, she didn’t look back.

The living room fell into dead silence.

Shane Donovan watched the scene expressionlessly, his eyes betraying no emotion.

He tightened his grip slightly on Stella Sterling’s arm, murmuring, "Let’s go back."

Stella instinctively glanced at Rhys Lennox, who stood frozen on the spot, her lips moved, but she didn’t say anything, allowing Shane Donovan to take her away.

As they passed by Rhys Lennox, Shane Donovan’s steps didn’t falter for a moment.

...

The next day, at the top floor of The Donovan Group.

Rhys Lennox hadn’t slept all night, his eyes bloodshot, and dark stubble sprouted on his chin.

He sat behind his desk, papers spread before him, yet he couldn’t process a single word.

The office door was knocked.

"Come in." His voice was hoarse.

Shane Donovan pushed the door open and walked in.

He wore a crisp black suit, standing tall, with nothing unusual on him except a trace of fatigue between his brows, as if the farce at the old house last night hadn’t left a mark on him.

He sat across from Rhys Lennox, long legs crossed, gaze calmly resting on Rhys’s face.

"There’s a project," Shane Donovan began, his tone cool, emotionless, "In Vesterland, they’ve acquired a new energy lab with promising technology, but the integration will be difficult. We need someone trustworthy to oversee it."

He paused, handing over a file, "You go."

Rhys Lennox looked at the file, but didn’t take it.

He lifted his eyes, meeting Shane Donovan’s deep gaze.

In those eyes, it was too calm, calm like a bottomless pool, making it unclear whether there were turbulent undercurrents beneath or it was genuinely serene.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, a self-deprecating curve appearing.

This was to send him away.

Because of what Philip Donovan said yesterday?

Because of his own shameful thoughts?

He felt stifled in his chest, a mixture of humiliation, unwillingness, and a sense of reckless despair crashing within.

"Alright." He heard himself say, his voice dry, "When do I leave?"

"As soon as possible," Shane Donovan replied concisely, "The team there is already set up. You will be in charge of overall coordination, and I’ll grant you the highest authority."

"Hmm." Rhys responded, reaching out to take the file. As his fingers touched the cold paper, his heart also cooled.

He lowered his head, flipping through it haphazardly, without actually reading a word.

The office descended into a suffocating silence, only the rustling sound of pages turning could be heard.

Shane Donovan watched him, noting his tense jawline and the heavy dark shadows under his eyes, his gaze deepening, but in the end, he said nothing.

He stood up, preparing to leave.

Just as his fingers touched the doorknob—

"Brother."