From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 707: Corporate Meeting, Interrupted by Spoiled Young

They entered the company building through the underground parking lot, where Clyde’s car rolled smoothly into a reserved space.

Micah stepped out of the car and stretched his arms slightly, looking around with open curiosity. Even the parking area felt far more refined than those in ordinary office buildings. It was spotless, the polished floor reflecting the bright overhead lights, and the spaces were arranged with ticulous order.

Clyde walked ahead without hesitation, clearly used to the environnt. Micah followed him closely, adjusting the brim of his cap and making sure his mask was firmly in place.

They entered a private elevator located at the far end of the parking lot. The doors slid open imdiately as if the building itself had been waiting for Clyde’s arrival.

Micah stepped inside and leaned slightly against the mirrored wall, watching the floor numbers light up one by one as the elevator ascended.

The ride was smooth and silent.

For Micah, however, everything felt like an interesting tour. His eyes moved around the interior, taking in the sleek tal panels, the subtle lighting, and the faint scent of expensive polish that lingered in the air.

It felt very... corporate.

The elevator finally stopped with a soft chi. When the doors opened, they stepped directly onto the presidential floor.

The mont Micah crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations that had been taking place in low voices suddenly died out. Keyboards stopped clacking. Even the faint sound of printers seed to pause. Every head snapped up almost simultaneously.

Staff mbers sitting behind their desks looked toward the elevator with instinctive alertness. Their attention was first drawn to Clyde, of course, he was their boss, after all. But their gazes quickly shifted to the unfamiliar figure standing beside him.

Micah could practically feel their curiosity.

Even though the cap pulled low over his forehead and the mask covered half his face, their gazes seed sharp enough to pierce through the disguise.

It was as if dozens of invisible questions were floating in the air.

Who is that? Why is he with the president? Why is he hiding his face?

Micah almost laughed. Instead, he slowed his steps deliberately.

He slightly lowered his shoulders and walked half a step behind Clyde, creating the illusion that he was timidly following him like a nervous chick trailing after its mother hen.

He kept his head lowered just enough to look shy. The performance was perfect.

From the outside, he probably looked like so fragile, overly naive boy who had been dragged into a powerful corporate environnt for the first ti. Inside, however, Micah was thoroughly entertained. The assistant standing near the entrance imdiately recognised him.

For a mont, the man froze. His expression went blank, caught sowhere between shock and confusion.

He clearly knew who Micah was, but he also had no idea how he was supposed to react to this situation.

Should he greet him? Pretend not to recognise him? Act normally?

The assistant’s eyes flickered toward Clyde for guidance.

Clyde, however, continued walking as if nothing unusual had happened. "What’s on my schedule?" he asked calmly.

The assistant imdiately snapped back to professionalism. He looked down at the tablet in his hand and began listing the day’s schedule in a quick, practised voice.

"Your first eting with the financial review team has been moved to nine-thirty. After that, there’s a conference call with the overseas branch. The legal departnt also submitted revised docunts that require your approval..."

Clyde listened without interrupting. His expression remained composed and neutral. He didn’t even glance at Micah, despite the ridiculous little act the boy was putting on behind him.

Micah continued walking obediently after him, occasionally peeking at the surrounding staff from beneath the brim of his cap.

The curious gazes followed them the entire way down the corridor.

By the ti they reached the presidential office, the tension behind them had grown so thick that it almost felt like they had left a trail of gossip in their wake.

Clyde pushed the door open and stepped inside. Micah slipped in after him and imdiately closed the door. The mont the lock clicked shut, the timid aura surrounding him vanished.

His shoulders relaxed instantly. Then he pulled off his cap and mask in one swift motion and tossed them casually onto the nearby couch.

His posture changed completely. The shy little chick had transford into a spoiled young master in less than two seconds.

Micah flopped dramatically onto the couch, stretching his limbs like a lazy cat that had finally reached its favourite resting spot.

"I’m famished!" he whined loudly.

The assistant, who had followed them inside to continue the briefing, paused mid-sentence. His eyes widened slightly. The transformation was... startling.

Clyde, however, simply glanced at Micah before turning back to the assistant.

"What do you fancy?" Clyde asked casually. "Cafeteria breakfast or sothing from outside?"

Micah stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. His stomach gave a faint growl.

"Anything except porridge," he replied imdiately. "Or anything liquid."

Clyde nodded slightly. Then he turned to the assistant. "Bring two portions of the standard breakfast set," he instructed. "One cup of coffee and one cup of hot milk."

The assistant nodded quickly, clearly relieved to receive a simple task. "Yes, President."

He exited the room swiftly. As soon as the door closed, Micah rolled off the couch and began wandering around the office.

His curiosity returned imdiately.

The presidential office was spacious but surprisingly minimalistic. Everything was arranged with perfect order. The large desk stood near the windows, facing the city skyline. Behind it was a sleek black chair that looked both comfortable and imposing. Shelves lined one wall, filled with neatly organised files and books. The room lacked unnecessary decoration.

It was efficient. Serious. Almost... cold.

Micah wandered closer to the desk. That was when he noticed a glass vase placed near the corner.

Inside it was a small bunch of dried yellow jasmine flowers.

Micah paused. His expression softened slightly.

The delicate petals had faded with ti, but they still carried a faint fragrance. He recognised them imdiately. A quiet warmth flickered through his chest. After a mont, he returned to the couch and sat down again.

His phone rested in his hand, but he barely touched it. His screen ti had been severely restricted recently. The doctors had insisted that excessive phone use might strain his brain and worsen his headaches.

Unfortunately, Clyde and his family had taken those instructions far too seriously. They monitored him constantly. Even now, he could practically feel invisible eyes watching.

Micah sighed. He was bored already. His gaze drifted toward Clyde. The man had already sat down behind his laptop, reviewing a stack of docunts while occasionally typing sothing. His posture was straight and his expression was focused. Every movent carried quite authority.

Micah watched him silently. It was strange. Clyde looked different while working. More serious. More... attractive.

Then there was a knock on the door.

The assistant returned with breakfast. He placed the trays carefully on the coffee table.

Micah imdiately grabbed one of the egg sandwiches. His eyes lit up as he took the first bite. "Delicious!" he mumbled happily.

He glanced longingly at the cup of coffee on the tray. But he knew better than to reach for it. Clyde would absolutely stop him. With a small sigh, Micah picked up the cup of hot milk instead. Honey had been added to sweeten it. He drank it reluctantly.

Clyde finished his own breakfast quickly. Then he reached over with a handkerchief and gently wiped the corner of Micah’s mouth. Micah blinked in mild embarrassnt but didn’t protest. Soon after, Clyde returned to his desk. Work resud imdiately.

One by one, staff mbers entered the office. Each of them froze briefly when they noticed Micah sitting casually on the couch. Their expressions shifted between shock, confusion, and barely concealed curiosity.

So tried to remain professional. Others struggled visibly.

anwhile, Clyde questioned them about reports, projects, and financial details. His tone remained calm. But the pressure he exerted was obvious.

Several senior staff mbers began sweating as they tried to answer his detailed questions. So even stuttered. Micah watched everything with great amusent.

These people were clearly experienced executives, individuals who regularly dealt with powerful businessn and high-stakes negotiations. Yet they looked completely flustered under Clyde’s scrutiny. Even more amusing was how their eyes kept drifting toward him.

Micah leaned back against the couch with a smug little smile. He felt strangely proud. After all, the man they were all terrified of...was his boyfriend.

Not just any CEO either. Clyde was the type who had been carefully chosen, moulded, and trained to dominate the corporate battlefield. And yet this sa intimidating man spoiled him shalessly.

Micah continued watching Clyde work. The more he watched, the more attractive the man seed.

Perhaps it was true. n looked most handso when they were working seriously.

Apparently, his gaze was far too obvious. Clyde suddenly looked up. Their eyes t.

"Bored?" Clyde asked.

Micah nodded honestly.

Without hesitation, Clyde stood up and walked over to the couch. He sat down beside him.

"Give your foot," he said. "I’ll massage it for you."

Micah didn’t refuse at all. He imdiately stretched out and placed his feet on Clyde’s lap. He had long grown used to this level of service. During his recovery, Clyde had learned most of the physical therapy massages himself.

His hands pressed gently against Micah’s calves. The pressure was perfect. Micah humd softly in satisfaction.

The sound made Clyde’s ears turn slightly red. He cleared his throat and tried to focus.

"Do you want a tour of the company?" Clyde asked suddenly. "I can ask Dean to lead you."

Micah opened his eyes. "Okay."

Clyde nodded. "But don’t wear yourself out," he added. "If you get tired, just tell him."

Micah waved a hand casually. "Okay, okay," he replied lazily.

After experiencing the personal care of La Riviere’s boss, from feeding him breakfast to massaging his legs while running a billion-dollar company, Micah finally understood the appeal of being a salted fish. It really had its perks. Not bad. Not bad at all.