Help! the four Alpha's are obsessed with me. Chapter 152 Internet war

Sunlight attacked his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. He blinked slowly—almost cutely—and tried to stand, but his legs betrayed him. He staggered and fell right back onto the couch, flat on his back.

A soft feminine voice floated from behind him, calm and familiar.

"You’re not that strong, Michael. Don’t stress yourself too much."

He turned his head toward her and sighed. It was Ruth Hawkins—his personal doctor.

Great. He was in her hands again. He didn’t know how he got here, or why, but he knew one thing for sure: he felt exhausted. Weak. Completely drained, as if his blood had been leaking out drop by drop.

"No, I’m strong. I just couldn’t sleep well, that’s all," Michael forced a smile, trying to appear fine.

Ruth stared at him deeply. She didn’t know why, but she always felt emotional whenever she saw him like this. Michael was a loner—soone who hardly kept friends. He moved from office to ho, ho to office, repeating the cycle until the year ended. The last true companions he had were his parents.

Now all he had left was his disabled sister, who couldn’t care for him even if she tried.

This young man had nobody. And the thought that he might die alone tore Ruth’s heart to shreds.

"Have you ever considered going out? Making friends? It helps you get rid of bad mories. Friends bring happy thoughts. It’s really good for you," Ruth suggested gently.

But Michael waved it off imdiately.

"I never fit into any group. And no one really understands . Yes, I’m good, I help people, but maybe I do that just to keep myself from drowning. It doesn’t work anymore. Maybe my life doesn’t even have that much purpose..." he sighed, defeated.

Ruth felt sothing prick her heart. He shouldn’t be talking like that. Yes, his sickness was worsening. Yes, his lifespan seed to be shrinking faster than they anticipated. But telling him outright might shatter him completely.

"All I’m saying, Mike, is do whatever makes you happy. There’s no ti. Explore. Go out. Spend ti with your family. We may be wrong—but your days might be drawing closer. I don’t want to instill fear in you, but it won’t be fair if your sister ends up in the dark." Her voice trembled slightly.

Michael stared at the floor. He knew what he wanted—to experience sothing good for once. Passion. Feelings. Emotional connection. Sothing alive. Sothing warm.

He felt that with Daniel.

But Daniel was drowning in his revenge, too consud to notice anything else. So Michael didn’t even know how to approach the subject.

"I might... like soone. But I don’t think the person shares the sa feelings," he muttered, cheeks heating up.

Ruth laughed softly.

"That’s ridiculous. Who wouldn’t like an angel like you? You’re wonderful—a God-sent. Stop whining, that doesn’t suit you at all," she teased gently.

She stood up, walked a few steps away, staring into space.

"Should I help you with this person you’re in love with?"

Michael imdiately face-pald, embarrassed.

"No... I can do it myself. This one’s on ."

Ruth looked unconvinced, but she let it go.

"Alright. While we’re at it, let prescribe new drugs for you." She pulled open a drawer and started writing.

"It seems you don’t like taking the ones I’ve already given you. Still, no matter what, you MUST take these. They’ll lessen the effects. Mike... all this blood loss could be fatal."

When she handed the bulk of pills to him, Michael nearly lost it.

The hell?!

All that for one person? It was too much.

He sighed, exhausted. At this point, pills were his lifeline. Without them he might collapse completely—he was already at the acute stage where he should have been in an operating room long ago. But instead, he was on dication ant to delay the inevitable.

Surgery costs were a fortune in the city hospital. He simply didn’t have that kind of money. Feeding himself and his gluttonous sister was already a challenge; spending all their savings on himself only to still die and leave her with nothing? That idea disgusted him.

"All these drugs are too much for one person..." he groaned.

"Still take them," Ruth insisted. "You refused an operation, so at least help yourself before things get so bad you’ll suffer beyond imagination."

She finally handed them over.

Michael looked at the pills with a conflicted expression.

"Thank you, doctor. You’ve always been kind to . I’ll never forget you."

Ruth passed him a flask. "Eat before you go. Who knows when you’ll get the chance again?"

Michael refused. He stood—and nearly lost his balance—but forced himself upright. He walked to the door, looking back one last ti before giving her a small wave.

He didn’t know why... but he felt this might be the last ti she would ever speak to him while he was conscious.

Outside, he refused to take a taxi at first. He wanted to walk.

To look around.

To see New York City with his own eyes before he beca bedridden and lost the chance forever.

And then... there was Daniel.

The conflict in his heart.

From the very first day he saw him—Daniel’s sad expression, his broken mannerisms—sothing inside Michael blood. Sothing terrifyingly soft. A seed he couldn’t uproot no matter how hard he tried.

Fast-forward to now, fate dragging them back together again.

Was it a blessing?

Or a cruel joke to make his pathetic life even more miserable?

Maybe he was ant to experience romance just once before he died.

But clearly... he was hopeless at it.

Cindy was once his spine—soone he couldn’t live without.

Now Daniel had joined that list.

His protective instinct for Daniel had grown too strong. He would risk his life for that man, even if the whole country and New York City were drowning in scandal because of it.

Xylander’s cri was still trending aggressively, but another storm had erupted. As Michael walked toward the park—finally deciding to get a cab—he started hearing gossip.

Xylander Wolfe’s condition.

Xylander’s properties seized by legal teams.

No one could access his net worth without consulting Daniel.

But Daniel?

Daniel Lancaster had gone missing.

No one could enter the Golden Palace.

Even the cops who were called there disappeared without a trace.

And then the bomb.

Xylander Wolfe was not in prison—he had been released under mysterious circumstances.

The internet exploded.

Daniel’s fanbase, already toxic, went feral. They attacked everyone—death threats, slander, gaslighting. It got so bad that two people committed suicide because of Daniel’s fans.

Posters appeared.

#KillXylander

You can’t let a sexual assault suspect go free.

#DanielCoOut

We know you’re hiding.

Pages went down. Posters were ripped. Daniel’s fanbase went quiet—too quiet—and then suddenly strategic. Everything felt staged.

Michael scrolled through all this as he walked, his eyes widening more and more.

He never knew Daniel was this infamous.

This powerful.

This hated and loved at the sa ti.

By the ti he snapped out of his thoughts, the cab driver was already telling him they had arrived.

Inside the house, Daniel opened the door. The young man was buried under piles of files and docunts—his face cold, expression unreadable.

"Daniel... what is all this?" Michael asked, visibly scared.

"Oh, Michael. Good—you’re okay," Daniel said, barely glancing up. "This is getting easier. My fans are doing all the heavy lifting. And now, I have that pussy doppelgänger pretending to be in my clutches, with Adrian Valez under my feet, ready to do my bidding. Now all I have to do is start."

His voice deepened, dripping with hate.

"Everything will burn. I will burn them all."

Michael gulped, his heart sinking. Daniel didn’t even notice how sick he was. Didn’t see his pale face, shaking hands, unsteady legs.

Daniel didn’t ask.

He didn’t care.

He was too lost in vengeance.

Heartbroken, Michael slipped away quietly to the bathroom.

The mont the door closed, his knees buckled.

He collapsed to the floor in a heavy heap.

And then—

A violent cough tore out of him.

Blood splattered into the toilet bowl.

His vision blurred.

His breath hitched.

And Michael knew this ti...

his body was finally giving up.