When Stella Sterling regained consciousness again, she only felt scorching hot all over, her throat dry as if it were about to smoke.
She struggled to open her eyes, and in the blurry vision, she saw an unfamiliar ceiling.
"Awake?" A slightly hoarse voice sounded beside her.
She turned her head, the figure in front of her was shadowy and unclear.
"You had a fever and slept all day..." a glass of water was brought to her lips, "Drink water."
Stella sipped a small amount of warm water from his hand, her parched throat gaining so relief.
Yet the high fever kept her consciousness muddled, her vision hazy.
The silhouette in front of her, tall and with a familiarly cold and stoic outline...
"Shane Donovan..." She murmured unconsciously, her voice weak and reliant.
Rhys Lennox’s hand froze abruptly in the act of passing the glass.
Stella seed to be clutching at a lifeline, reaching out her burning hand to gently grasp his wrist.
Her fingertips were scorching, like carrying an electric current, instantly running through Rhys Lennox’s skin.
"You ca back..." She looked at him, her eyes blurred, unfocused, "I knew... You wouldn’t leave ..."
Rhys Lennox’s body stiffened completely, his fingers gripping the glass, knuckles turning white.
He looked at the woman on the bed with a flushed face, watching through her eyes as she gazed at him, leaning on and longing for another person...
An unprecedented surge of emotion struck his heart.
It was sowhat bitter, slightly astringent, and there was an unnad throbbing sensation...
He should imdiately shake off her hand, coldly telling her she had mistaken soone else for him.
His brother’s woman, he shouldn’t harbor any improper thoughts.
But he didn’t move.
He just sat there rigidly, letting her hot fingers rest on his wrist.
"Don’t go..." Stella tightened her grip on his hand a bit more, as if afraid that loosening her hand would make him disappear, "Shane Donovan, I miss you so much..."
Rhys Lennox’s adam’s apple moved intensely once, unable to pull back his hand in the end.
He just sat stiffly beside the bed, letting her hold him, his other empty hand hesitantly falling on her sweat-dampened hair, gently brushing it aside.
The movent was sowhat clumsy, even carrying an unnoticed cautiousness.
"Mm..." Seemingly feeling the comfort, Stella humd softly, snuggling closer in the direction of his hand, holding him tighter.
Rhys Lennox looked at her sleeping face, a hint of unfamiliar emotion in his heart rippled out like circles spreading on a lake surface...
...
The fever abated, Stella awoke again the next morning.
"Boss, you’re finally awake!" Finn Lockwood’s relieved voice rang in her ears.
Stella’s vision slowly focused on Finn Lockwood’s face full of concern.
In the depths of winter, the room was warm, likely making her sleep especially well during muddled consciousness, she only rembered things by the river...
She seed to have even dreamt of Shane Donovan.
Unable to help it, her eyes brimd with tears; it was him appearing in her dreams for the first ti since the incidents...
She had always thought he held resentnt towards her.
If not for delivering the handbag, Shane Donovan might not have driven...
Nor would the subsequent events have unfolded.
"Boss..." Finn Lockwood was at a loss for words to comfort seeing Stella’s reddened eyes.
"I’m fine..."
Only after so ti did Stella calm her emotions down, forcing herself to sit up. The weakness post-high fever made her fingers tremble, yet her gaze seed quenched by icy water.
"Where is this?"
"Rhys Lennox’s apartnt, he called here..."
Stella rubbed her throbbing forehead, her voice hoarse, "Do you have the laptop?"
Finn Lockwood paused briefly, then hurriedly handed the notebook placed on the bedside table to her.
Stella took it over, her fingers sliding over the touchpad, pulling out all public information regarding Philip Donovan and Beatrice Donovan, as well as recent equity changes and board records for Innovatech Bio.
The screen’s cold light reflected on her pale face, outlining an almost ruthlessly focused expression.
"Philip Donovan is diocre in skill, never wielding significant power in The Donovan Group, Beatrice Donovan rely revolves around The Donovan Family’s small-scale industries..."
She analyzed softly, not quick-paced but clear in logic, "With their brains, even harboring thieving intentions might not amount to orchestrating plans so ticulously."
Finn Lockwood watched her, feeling slightly amazed.
At this mont, Stella seed to have frozen all grief into ice, leaving only sharp edges.
"Unless..." Stella raised her eyes, looking at Finn Lockwood, "There’s soone behind them, or rather, soone more familiar with Shane Donovan’s tactics, aiding their plan, even... taking direct action."
A thought ntioned by Elias Peyton about the dicine bottle flashed through her mind.
And Beatrice Donovan’s abnormal behavior that day...
A vague notion gradually took shape.
"Where’s Rhys Lennox?" Stella suddenly asked, "Where did he go?"
Finn Lockwood shook his head: "Don’t know, after calling , he disappeared, unreachable even on the phone."
Stella closed the laptop, a cold light flickering in her eyes.
...
"Bang—!"
The sound of a punch hitting the sandbag echoed in the empty underground boxing gym, one after another, carried a desperate ferocity.
Rhys Lennox, bare-chested, sweat soaked through his black sports shorts, flowing along tense muscle lines, marking dark water stains on the floor.
The short golden hair sticking damp on his forehead, partly covering his brows and eyes, yet unable to mask the almost self-destructive rage surging in his gaze.
The accompanying coach stood by, not daring to make a sound.
This master has rotated through three consecutive coaches, each forced to retreat limb by limb against his self-destructive style.
The sandbag seed to personify so enemy, being hamred with full strength, his arm, hand back already swollen and skinned, oozing blood, as if he couldn’t feel the pain.
"Finn, enough..." Ryan Gable, watching from the side, couldn’t help calling out; he’s the owner of this boxing gym, one among the few buddies Rhys Lennox speaks with.
Rhys Lennox turned a deaf ear, landing another heavy punch, the sandbag swaying violently, the chain joints groaning under strain.
He panted heavily, chest heaving violently, sweat trickling into eye corners, stinging his eyeballs painfully, yet those chaotic scenes in his mind grew clearer—
Stella’s feverish hand clinging tightly to his wrist, murmuring Shane Donovan’s na...
Even earlier, at the law firm, she in a professional suit, calmly refuting the opposing lawyer’s difficulties, eyes sharp...
Sipping milk tea with a little cream on her lips...
Those scenes and sounds intertwined, like an invisible web tightening around him.
His heart felt struck repeatedly, sour and swelling, carrying a type of throbbing he dared not delve into.
"Damn!"
He cursed quietly, abruptly stopping his motions, pulling off his gloves angrily throwing them on the ground, going to a corner to grab a bottle of water, unscrewed, pouring it from above.
"Your state is off," Ryan Gable approached, passing a cigarette to him, "Tell , which girl has such skills, able to make our Lennox this tornted?"
Rhys Lennox bit the cigarette, lighting it with the fire in Ryan Gable’s hand, taking a deep puff, the smoke choking his lungs, inducing a severe coughing fit, reddening the corners of his eyes.
"Nothing." His voice hoarse, carrying a strong nasal tone.
Certain thoughts avoided pondering, once contemplated felt absurd, like so taboo frantically sounding alerts in his mind.
That’s his brother’s woman.
Even if rely engaged...
Even though his brother now...
Was no longer around.
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