From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 294: Skeletons and Soft Spots

Micah cried.

He cried so hard it hurt. His whole body shook with each sob, as if all the pain he had buried deep inside had finally poured out. His fingers twisted tightly into Clyde’s coat, his face buried in the soft fabric. Sobs echoed in the room, raw and unfiltered, sounding like a child who had finally given up pretending to be brave.

Clyde held him silently.

His arms were firm around Micah. He didn’t shush him. Didn’t offer empty words. Just stayed there, steady and warm.

Micah’s tears eventually slowed. The trembling in his shoulders lessened until all that remained were soft hiccups and occasional sniffs. His face was wet and flushed, and when he finally beca aware of just how loudly he had sobbed, embarrassnt rushed in like a crashing wave.

His ears turned red first. Then the tips of his neck flushed, visible even beneath the neckline of his hoodie. He sniffed again, subtly trying to shift backward, but he didn’t know how. Clyde’s embrace was warm... and addictive. But also humiliating now that he realised he had cried into the man’s chest like a child who had skinned his knee. He stared down at the crumpled fabric of Clyde’s shirt, blinking puffy eyes, wishing he could magically erase Clyde’s mory.

anwhile, Clyde felt helpless. Hollow and powerless.

He had thought that he was helping Micah. Giving the Ramsy family a headache, putting pressure on them behind the scenes. Getting a bit of revenge on behalf of Micah. That had been the plan. That had been the intention. But now, holding this trembling, tear-soaked boy in his arms, he realised just how much he had misunderstood everything.

And not just that. He had misjudged the Ramsy family entirely. They weren’t Micah’s biological parents. The situation was more complicated than he could easily ddle with.

"Micah..." Clyde called out, his chest aching with regret.

"Umm?!" Micah responded, his voice a humd question.

"I think I ssed up," Clyde said.

Micah smiled, his head hidden in Clyde’s chest. "You said... I know..."

"No." Clyde shook his head. "I’m not talking about the Asena thing."

Micah raised his head slowly. His glasses were gone, likely thrown aside during his crying fit. His lashes were damp, his eyes red and swollen. And when he looked at Clyde with that baffled expression, Clyde’s heart trembled.

"How do I even explain this," Clyde muttered, raking a hand through his hair. "I thought the Ramsy family," he hesitated, his face filled with guilt. "I thought they didn’t care. That they were the reason behind your declining health. Denying your inheritance, the cold treatnt. I thought they were just putting on a good show in public while everyone knew you were shunned."

"Oh! You heard the rumours? That’s what made you say all that stuff before?" Micah said, surprised. "You believe them?"

"No... I saw the way you never called them, never asked for help. Even when you needed it. I assud you knew they wouldn’t care so..." Clyde swallowed hard. "I ordered my assistance to cause a bit of trouble for them..."

"You’re kidding right?" Micah asked incredulously. "Why would you think like that just because I didn’t call?"

"Dean and Jacklin heard a lot of gossip about you at that banquet. Like that, your older sister got ten per cent while you got five, that they had given up on you..." Clyde mumbled.

"You moron! Where the hell did your brain go? How did you even run La Riviere with that kind of thinking? Couldn’t you just ask directly?" Micah yelled, punching Clyde’s chest with his fist. "What the hell is wrong with you? You believed a few stupid rumours? What kind of idiot does that?"

Clyde flinched, but he didn’t move away. "I’m sorry. I thought I was helping you."

"By attacking my family?" Micah shouted. "Do you even hear yourself? I would have kicked your ass so hard if I didn’t know you only did that because you actually...God... because you care about !"

Clyde gently reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of Micah’s face. "Sorry. I guess I turn into a fool the mont sothing involves you. I’ll call to cancel it now. I’ll even give them a profit-sharing contract. Please. Don’t stay mad at ," he said, looking pleadingly at Micah.

Micah scowled, arms crossed. He turned away with a huff, deliberately putting so distance between them. He sat on the edge of the bed, back to Clyde.

He was furious. Truly. But also... conflicted.

Clyde was really a fool. How could he target his family? He had been worried about the original four male leads’ antics and Ramsy’s enemies hidden in the dark, but he didn’t know he should have been more worried about the person beside him ssing everything up instead.

He wanted badly to hit Clyde, putting so sense into his head. But at the sa ti, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt him. Deep down, he knew Clyde had always put him first. With panic attacks and stomach ulcer pain getting him hospitalised, no wonder Clyde assud he had problems at ho. Not to say he had been vague about his family in the past, when Clyde asked about them. Maybe this was his fault, too.

Still...

But seriously, what was with today?

He glanced sideways at Clyde, who was now pacing slightly, phone in hand, giving swift orders to soone on the other end. Probably the poor assistant, being dragged into this ss on a Saturday night. Micah felt pity for them.

A few minutes later, Clyde ended the call.

Micah narrowed his eyes. "Done?"

Clyde nodded. "Everything has been cancelled. No damage done."

Micah exhaled through his nose. "Good. From now on, don’t do anything like that without discussing it with first. Seriously. What was with today? Feels like skeletons from every closet just ca out to dance... at least it was the end of it."

Clyde didn’t answer right away. He stood there, watching Micah in silence, an unreadable expression darkening his face.

Micah had a bad feeling. "Don’t tell ... There is more?"

Clyde dropped his head, visibly deflating. He was thinking that a washboard might co in handy. At least he could kneel on it for forgiveness, like Uncle Lin always did.