From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 565: Why Is Everyone Feeding Darcy?

The waiter returned with a quiet, practised smile, carrying two wide trays stacked with steaming dishes. He lowered them onto the turning glass table one by one, braised short ribs glistening with a dark, glossy sauce; a platter of shrimp cooked in butter and garlic, sprinkled with chopped parsley; bamboo baskets filled with handmade dumplings that released little clouds of steam; and a deep bowl of herbal chicken soup with jujubes floating on top. The warm aroma spread quickly, filling the private room with the comforting scent of a well-run family restaurant.

Micah’s eyes lit up immediately. Before the waiter even fully withdrew, he grabbed the serving chopsticks with the enthusiasm of someone desperate to score points.

"Older sister, try this one." He reached forward, scooping a generous portion of ribs and sliding them neatly into Willow’s plate. "You’ve worked hard today. Oh, hold on, I’ll peel the shrimp for you."

He pulled the shrimp platter closer, rolling up his sleeves as if preparing for battle.

Willow’s lips twitched. "Don’t bother. I’ve already sent your picture to the family group."

The shrimp slipped from Micah’s fingers. His expression fell instantly, pure panic.

"No... Mum will kill me!" he wailed, dropping his forehead onto the table with a soft thunk. His shoulders sagged in dramatic despair.

Across the table, Emile’s mood spiked so high it practically glimmered. Of course, he would enjoy this. Micah’s family disliked him going into the entertainment industry, just like his family had disliked him joining the same industry. Emile had suffered lectures, warnings, pleading... and now he learned that Micah’s family was no different.

So what if his little uncle, Clyde, helped him open a media company? In the end, they were both in the same boat.

Emile cheerfully shoved a dumpling into his mouth, feeling victory for no real reason except that Micah was suffering.

Willow cleared her throat softly. "Micah, act properly. We have company."

Micah lifted his head, face half-squished from the table, eyes unfocused for a second before regaining life. "They’re not strangers. They won’t mind, right?" He turned to Ilyas and his older brother with an eager, hopeful expression as though seeking support.

Chief Assistant Harper nodded politely. "Of course not. We know what to say or not to say outside."

"That’s not the issue," Willow sighed, rubbing her temple with two fingers. "It’s about proper conduct. Be polite. Sit properly. You’re making everyone uncomfortable."

Micah’s shoulders raised defensively, but he forced himself upright. He sat straight, stiff like a student caught whispering in class. "Happy now?" he muttered to the table.

Ilyas noticed the growing tension between the siblings and quickly reached for the wine bottle. "Vice Director, allow me." He poured a delicate measure into Willow’s glass. "Let me toast to you."

Willow accepted the glass and drank without hesitation. The alcohol left a warm, faint blush on her normally composed face.

Ilyas poured for his older brother next, then approached Micah’s glass, only to freeze when two voices cut him off.

"No, he can’t drink!" Emile and Willow said at the same time.

The two turned to each other, startled, as if they had spoken in sync by accident. Willow’s eyes narrowed as if asking silently, Why do you know this?

Emile quickly cleared his throat. "Ah... I...I said because his stomach can’t take alcohol." He kept his tone airy and innocent, as if nothing strange sat beneath the surface. But in reality, he was taking care of his own sorry ass. His uncle would beat the crap out of him if he let Micah drink!

Willow’s expression eased. She gave him a gentle smile. "Such a good friend. All this effort is wasted on Micah."

Micah’s mouth opened in betrayal. "Why is it wasted..." but Emile cut him off by laughing.

"We’re roommates. Of course, I’d know his limits. Don’t worry, sister Willow. I’ll watch him all the time."

Willow blinked. "Still in dorms? I thought your uncle changed the rule so you could go home."

Micah made a tiny choking sound, like he swallowed the wrong air. Shit.

He remembered his father, Jacob Ramsy, saying something about it, mistaking Clyde’s changing of dormitory rules in CQ University because of Emile, his nephew. But in fact, Micah knew it was probably for him.

Not the point. The point was: Emile didn’t know that. And Emile tended to answer questions honestly. That was dangerous.

Micah shot him a desperate look. Eyes wide. Eyebrows raised. A silent scream of Please don’t expose me.

Emile, confused for one half-second, interpreted the signal correctly on the next. His expression smoothed into something natural. "I go home most days," he said calmly, "but during midterms, I stayed in the dorms. Studying with others helps me more."

Micah relaxed instantly, shoulders sinking back down.

Willow’s eyes lingered on the two of them, silently evaluating, but after a moment she resumed eating. "Either way, I appreciate your uncle’s help. Micah can stay off campus because of that."

Micah breathed out in relief, even smiling faintly to himself.

While he relaxed, Ilyas leaned slightly closer, curiosity in his tone. "Oh? You two go to CQ University? That’s impressive. Such a prestigious university. You must be super smart."

Micah choked on his soup. He forced a laugh. "No, no, nothing like that. We’re in the Art department. I’m a fashion design major, and he’s fine arts."

Chief Assistant Harper used the serving spoon to place a careful portion of crab meat in front of Willow. "That’s not an easy feat either. I heard even you have good academic results, they ask for recommendations and assess the individual talents before accepting the students. It’s a different kind of skill," he said. "So that’s why I’ve never seen you in Ramsy Empire until now. You’re pursuing your own dream?"

Micah’s hand paused midair for a fraction of a second. Then he smoothly lowered his spoon. "Yeah. Something like that," he answered lightly, brushing it off.

Willow looked at Micah, worry filling her eyes. It wouldn’t be long before people know about the switch incident. Now they would praise Micah for this, attending CQ uni even in the fashion department, but when the truth came out, most would mock him for not being on par with Ramsy’s genes.

Willow slowed her movements. Her chopsticks hovered over the steamed greens, but she didn’t pick anything up. A faint melancholy filled her eyes.

She placed her chopsticks down. Her appetite was gone. So was the ease in her heart.

It was bad enough that Darcy was against acknowledging them, now Micah was putting himself in the spotlight by being the main actor in the Ramsy ad.

When the truth comes out, how much damage will he take? What malicious things would people say about her little brother?

She was worried. Her little brother had his own fair share of troubles. If this were also added to the rest, could he withstand it?

Her chest tightened. This wasn’t good. She needed to talk to the others. To plan something. To shield him before the world could tear him apart.

The rest of the dinner passed in light conversation.

Chief Assistant Harper rose first with Ilyas, his little brother. They bowed politely and prepared to leave.

Before they exited, Willow grabbed a neatly packed takeaway box from the table and handed it to Micah. "Here. Bring this to Darcy."

Micah brightened. "Thanks. He’ll be happy."

Willow only nodded, face unreadable.

Emile watched the exchange with an increasingly baffled expression. Something was definitely off. First, Micah’s mother had dropped off breakfast for Darcy earlier this morning. Now the sister was preparing takeaway for him?

Had the Ramsy family adopted him? As what? A son? A future son-in-law?

Which family would be this concerned about their son’s friend?

Hey! Look! I am also Micah’s friend. Why don’t I get this kind of treatment? He thought to himself while kicking a stone with quiet resentment.

Later that night, the car ride home was peaceful, the city lights blurring past the windows. Willow was silent, gazing out the window, lost in worry. The driver kept the speed smooth. Micah hummed quietly to a song in his head, swinging his legs.

They dropped Emile off first in front of the dorm building.

Emile stepped out, but before shutting the door, he leaned down and looked at Micah expectantly.

Micah blinked at him. "What?"

"Aren’t you giving that to Darcy?" Emile asked, pointing at the takeaway like he had caught Micah committing a crime.

"Yeah," Micah replied casually. "I’m gonna. He’s at my place, though."

Emile froze. "Eh?"

Micah tilted his head. "What’s with the face?"

Emile stared at him as if he had grown two heads. "Huh? Aren’t you going to Ramsy mansion?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"Mm? No. I’ll live in the apartment near campus."

Emile’s pupils dilated like camera shutters. "With Darcy? As in... just you two? Alone?"

Micah blinked again. "What are you getting at? Anyway...go on now. See you tomorrow."

He shut the car door before Emile could regain speech.

Emile stood outside the building like someone who had been struck by lightning. He stared after the car with wide eyes, brain working overtime.

Darcy... alone with Micah?

Did Uncle Clyde know this? Why wasn’t Micah going back to the Ramsy mansion? Why was he going to Darcy instead?

The more he thought about it, the more chaotic it became.

"This is so fucked up," he whispered into the night, utterly dazed.