From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 312: His Gaze Said Enough

Clyde t Micah’s unwavering gaze, and sothing inside him twisted. His heart bled at the raw desperation hidden in those hazel eyes. What on earth had gone through his head to make such a decision? It wasn’t the choice of soone ordinary. It wasn’t even rational.

Micah was also a victim. Innocent. In all the ss of the switch, wasn’t he? So why should he be the one paying the price for a privilege that had been shoved into his arms against his will? Could he even have refused it? He had been a newborn baby, helpless, not an adult.

Yeah. Darcy had been unfortunate. His loss was real, his life twisted into sothing it shouldn’t have been. But was it necessary for Micah to go to this extre? Did he deserve to bury himself beneath guilt that was never his to bear?

Clyde’s chest ached. He wanted more than anything to shake Micah, making him see he was innocent. But he knew the boy well. He was stubborn, prideful, and ridiculously soft-hearted. He would tear himself open just to offer soone else the bandages, never mind his own wounds.

That’s why he was like this. That’s why he was desperate enough to ask his grandma sothing so drastic. Arguing with Micah would be pointless. Once the boy dug his heels in, he wouldn’t budge, no matter how much blood he spilled on the ground. All Clyde could do was to stand beside him, hold him steady, and shield Micah from breaking even further.

Clyde exhaled slowly, his hand trembling faintly before he reached forward. His palm closed over Micah’s smaller hand resting on the table. He squeezed it firmly.

"Micah," Clyde said softly, "people can see what’s real and what’s fake. I’m sure Darcy will see your sincerity too, and he’ll understand that you only wanted what was best for him." he hesitated, eyes flickering across Micah’s face. Then he added, quieter. "I’ll go with whatever you decide. I’m sorry I butted in without knowing everything. Just...Eat your food. It’s getting cold."

Micah’s lashes lowered as he gave a small nod. He picked up his chopsticks again, silent, and resud eating. But his hand remained beneath Clyde’s. He didn’t pull away. Neither did Clyde.

The contact was warm, steady. Too steady.

Clyde felt like kicking himself. The mont he had seen Darcy’s face on the video call, a strange, unwelco feeling had surged through him. The bond between Micah and Darcy was sothing special. Fragile but strong, tangled and unspoken.

Even after Clyde had threatened the black haired boy at the hospital, Darcy hadn’t backed down. He still clung to Micah, still chose him. And Micah wanted him too, wanted that closeness.

Clyde’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t sever that relationship with force. Maybe Micah looked at it, thinking it was just friendship, just the bond of family, but Clyde could already see the danger. Darcy.... Darcy might think Micah’s affection ca from a soft spot for him, when in reality was guilt carving Micah open from the inside out.

If Darcy asked anything of Micah, Micah would say yes. Clyde could see it clearly, like an inevitable tragedy waiting in the wings.

That was why he had spoken up, wanting Micah to clarify things to Darcy. But he hadn’t expected the reaction he got. The severity in Micah’s voice, the pain that passed in his eyes when Clyde pushed.

He lowered his head, rubbing his thumb unconsciously over Micah’s knuckles.

Darcy... It was going to be difficult. Difficult to make Micah let go of him, let go of the guilt shackling him, let go of all the invisible chains that boy had wrapped around him.

Clyde sighed softly and, after a mont, finally released Micah’s hand. He stood, gathering their bowls, the faint clink of porcelain filling the heavy silence. He rinsed them quickly, slid them into the dishwasher, and closed the door.

When he turned back, Micah had drawn himself up into a small ball on the chair, his knees pulled tight against his chest, arms wrapping around them. His chin rested against his knees, and his eyes followed Clyde.

The sight tugged at sothing in Clyde’s chest.

He dried his hands and walked toward him, crouching down so they were level. "Is it because of my stupid question?"

Micah shook his head.

"Are you bored?"

"No..."

Clyde’s hand lifted before he even thought about it, his fingers brushing slightly against Micah’s hair. He stroked once, slow and careful. "Is it that hard to talk about it? You don’t have to force..."

Micah’s lips parted, his eyes flickering with a storm he couldn’t na. He whispered, "I don’t know... should I strike first or wait?... they didn’t do anything wrong yet, or at least, I am not aware of it. If I crush them out of the blue, wouldn’t I be like them?"

"So what have you done until now?" Clyde asked.

Micah’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I... cut Silas’s leverage on Darcy and let my grandpa go after their company. I even... dressed up, pretending to be Leo’s fan, just to get close and ruin his reputation as a big star. I tried feeding Aidan hints too, planning to stab him in the back. And Archie, I made a gaming account, tried to catfish him, and destroy his image and career. But..."

His voice cracked faintly at the end. He gave a scoff, bitter and sharp, his head turning away. "But in the end, none of my plans ca to fruition. It felt like I was playing a silly ga by myself."

"Are you sure about that?" Clyde asked.

Micah blinked, brows furrowing as he looked at him.

"You don’t know for sure," Clyde continued. "At least you saved Leo. That might change his whole life. And others too. Maybe your interference did more than you think. Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect? A tiny flap of wings can cause a storm sowhere far away. Maybe you’re just making small flaps now... but the results could be bigger than you imagine."

Micah stared at him for a long ti. "I think you like so much you’re making up nonsense just to make feel better."

Clyde’s lips curved faintly, the corner of his mouth lifting. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it either. His gaze said enough.