From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 554: Dressed by His Hands

Micah stiffened the mont he heard the na Francis. His spine straightened on instinct, every muscle going tense as if preparing for impact.

That damn family. They were everywhere, always ddling in his affairs, showing up like an unwanted stain he couldn’t scrub out. His fingers curled slowly into fists against Clyde’s back, nails digging in slightly as anger climbed up his throat.

First, the Francis family had lent support to the Durant family business, SAFA Pharmaceutical, helping Silas get away with abusing his power, blocking Flora from receiving the rare dicine, and manipulating Darcy so badly that it made Micah sick to even think about it.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, they decided to hold an auction in Isatis city, inviting every influential family in the region. Even getting Aidan involved with that villainess, Gu Feifei. And now they were focusing on him and Clyde.

Micah gritted his teeth. Why now? Why suddenly? If Silas was interested in him and Clyde, Micah thought bitterly, he should have done it when Clyde barged into Silas’s apartnt and took the bruised Micah out. Not now, after more than a month!

It didn’t make sense. Their timing was off. What was their motive? Why the hell were they bent on targeting the Ramsy heir?

He took a deep breath. "Do you know why?" His voice ca out strained.

Clyde shook his head, his forehead pressed against Micah’s bare shoulder. He leaned in, almost hiding his face there. "No..."

"I know they are a powerful family," Micah said, his tone serious but steady. "Even if we join hands, we can’t go against them directly." He brushed his thumb along Clyde’s hairline. "So what do you suggest?"

Clyde didn’t answer. He stayed pressed to Micah’s skin desperately.

Micah softened, sliding his hand up to stroke Clyde’s head gently. "Hey... talk to ," he whispered, leaning down a bit. "I’m getting worried... Is it that serious?"

"Yeah," Clyde admitted. "I don’t know what they want to do."

Micah’s hand moved down from Clyde’s hair to the back of his neck, then to his shoulder, rubbing small circles to ease the tension there. "Well," Micah murmured. "We’ll figure out sothing. And I want to go to their auction next week anyway."

"No. It’s too risky." Clyde disagreed, firm and sharp.

"Don’t panic. I am going as Asena." Micah said quickly. "Hear out. This way, we can confuse them. They will think you are dating soone else. They’ll focus on finding out who Asena is instead of ." he paused, hesitating. "And if Aidan reaches out to again as Asena, we can see what he’s planning. Maybe even get closer to understanding what the Francis family wants."

Clyde fell into thought. It wasn’t a bad idea. "Fine," he said and tightened his hold on Micah instinctively.

Micah hissed, wiggling. "Hey, let go."

Instead of letting him go, Clyde grinned, a small, amused curl of his lips, and pressed a soft kiss on the nape of Micah’s neck. Then, without warning, he slipped a hand to the towel around Micah’s waist, nudging it slightly.

Micah yelped loudly. "Ah, what are you doing?" His hand flew down to grab the towel tightly before it slipped any further, clutching it desperately around his hips.

Clyde reached out and grabbed the set of pyjamas lying beside them. "Helping you get dressed?" he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Hell no! I can do it myself, thank you very much." Micah protested, stamring.

Clyde raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? Why? Are you shy now?" His lips quirked teasingly. "We have slept together. Rember the ti when you were drunk, you even stripped in front of ..."

He didn’t get to finish.

Micah’s fist flew and punched Clyde squarely on the back.

"Shut up!" Micah yelled, trying to get up from Clyde’s lap and leave, towel flapping dangerously.

But Clyde moved faster. He wrapped an arm around Micah’s shoulders and pushed him back onto the sofa cushion, pinning him there. Micah struggled, kicking and wriggling, frantically attempting to escape. The towel loosened and slipped low. For a horrifying mont, the towel fell completely from his hips. Micah froze mid-squirm. His face turned beet red. "Ahhh..." he wailed, practically trying to sink into the sofa and disappear entirely from existence.

Clyde chuckled, very amused, as he calmly replaced the towel to cover him, a flash of pink caught his eye. He swallowed hard, eyes averting for a second.

"Why are you so clumsy?" Clyde murmured, trying to erase the image from his mind. "Let help you."

Micah wanted to scream. Or cry. Or fling himself off a building out of pure humiliation.

Clyde didn’t give him ti to protest. He grabbed Micah’s foot gently, lifting it up with one hand while holding the underwear with the other. He guided one foot through, then the next, treating Micah as a newborn baby.

Micah slapped both hands over his face, wanting to block out reality itself. His entire body had gone stiff with embarrassnt. Where the hell did this situation co from? Where was his dignity?

Clyde dragged the underwear up his legs slowly, working them past Micah’s calves, then his thighs. When it reached Micah’s inner thighs, the sensitive area dangerously close to his crotch, Micah shot up with lightning speed and grabbed the waistband himself.

"I...I’ll do it," he muttered, mortified beyond belief.

Clyde’s smile deepened, eyes lowering with a dangerously warm look.

He moved on to the pyjama pants next. He held the waistband open, sliding it gently up Micah’s calves. Micah didn’t dare look. He stared at the ceiling with dead eyes, stiff as a wooden pole.

Every brush of Clyde’s fingers on his skin sent tremors through him.

Clyde worked slowly, enjoying the process. When the pants reached Micah’s waist, Clyde adjusted them neatly, smoothing the fabric.

Micah’s breath ca unevenly. Scared out of his mind that his body would react. He recalled every sad event he could summon, trying to prevent it.

Clyde finished the pants and shifted his attention to the top. He picked up the soft pyjama shirt and held it open.

Micah didn’t resist; he had already surrendered to his fate. There wasn’t a shred of will to struggle.

When the last button was fastened, Clyde leaned back. "Done."

Micah had lted long ago. He lay limp on the sofa, body soft and pliant like a rag doll. If humiliation could kill, he would be a corpse.

Clyde didn’t seem bothered at all. With gentle movents, he scooped Micah up into his arms, bridal style. Micah let out a tiny squeak but didn’t fight. He felt too weak and embarrassed to do anything besides exist.

Clyde carried him to the bed, placing him down with care. Then he turned off the lamp and lay down beside him, pulling Micah into his embrace. "Good night," he mumbled against the side of Micah’s head.

Micah didn’t answer. He was in a trance, losing his will to live from embarrassnt. His soul had already left his body.

Yet the exhaustion from a busy day finally overtook him. His breathing slowed, his muscles loosened in Clyde’s warm arms. And soon he drifted into sleep.

Clyde listened to his breathing even out and sighed in relief.

He didn’t want to talk to Micah about his past lives. He was sure Micah would ask. Micah would wonder how he knew about Micah’s demise. He wasn’t ready to talk about that. It was still painful, heavy and raw. And honestly, he didn’t want to lie to Micah. But the truth... It was too unbearable.

The only thing he could do was distract Micah and hold him close.