From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 568: What Makes a Son (part one)

Micah stared down at the screen of his phone as if it were counting down to a bomb about to explode in his hands. His face turned pale, his jaw stiff, and the corner of his eye twitched. His thumb hovered over the answer button, frozen, like even the slightest pressure would blow his entire night apart.

Darcy noticed the sudden stiffness in Micah’s posture but didn’t question it. Instead, he stood and quietly began clearing the leftovers, giving Micah space.

Micah dragged in a breath, then pushed himself up from the chair with shoulders sagging so low it looked like someone had draped a pile of cement sacks over him. His feet shuffled against the floor, slow and heavy, each step toward his room feeling like he was walking through mud. From outside it seemed he was preparing himself to go straight into a blazing fire, proving his innocence. But in truth, he was just going into his room to answer his mother’s phone call.

Darcy’s movement in the kitchen halted when the door was closed with a click. He stepped forward quietly, positioning himself behind the door. The reason he was eavesdropping was simple. Something about Micah’s behaviour felt wrong, too secretive. The normal thing would be to answer in front of him. His instinct told him he should listen to this phone call.

Inside, Micah cleared his throat and tapped on the green button before the ringing was cut off. He braced himself for facing the full rage of his mother. "Hello, Mum," he said, forcing brightness into his voice.

"Sweetie, you are still awake?" Elina’s voice flowed through the speaker, warm but with a subtle edge.

Micah let out a small breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mum, it’s just 10:15 pm."

"Oh. With how busy you were tonight, I thought you’d be asleep already."

Micah’s eyelid twitched. "No, I got home half an hour ago. Brought dinner for Darcy," he said, knowing full well his mother was complaining in a roundabout way.

"That’s nice," Elina replied, "You’re taking care of your... well, your brother. I am sure even if you weren’t there, people from downstairs would have brought him dinner."

Micah sighed, walking to the foot of his bed. He sank down, sitting on the edge with a resigned posture. "Mum."

"Oh, I’m sorry, am I still one?" she said lightly, but the ache underneath was unmistakable. "

You saw me this morning, yet somehow your friend ended up knowing more about your day than I did, even showing up at the set."

Micah pressed his free hand over his eyes. "Can we talk about it this weekend? When I come home?" He pleaded, voice small and tired.

"Talk about what, Sweetheart?" Elina’s tone grew calm. "It doesn’t feel like we’re close enough anymore to have those kinds of talks."

The words hit him right in his gut. Micah hunched forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed.

"I’m sorry," Micah whispered, more defeated than remorseful. He knew he was in the wrong this time. He should have told them about the ad, but he was too cowardly. He didn’t want to confront them in this fragile situation they were trapped in. Because he was certain he would compromise, he wouldn’t stand against them demanding anything from them related to himself. He was not a child of the Ramsy family. How could he dare to request something from them?

Yes, he had clashed with them for Darcy’s sake. But that was different. Darcy was their biological son, the one who should have received their love and support all these years, not him.

On the other line, there was a pause. "Micah..." Elina said quietly, the weight in her voice shifting from irritation to something far heavier. "Do you still consider yourself our son?"

Micah swallowed hard, throat tight and aching. "Of course, mum," he said, voice trembling. "I do, but it doesn’t matter what I think... blood tells a different story."

Darcy, standing silently outside the door, inhaled sharply. He didn’t move, expression unreadable.

Inside, Elina continued to talk about her feelings.

"I don’t like this invisible line you are drawing between us. I am your mother. I want to know everything about you, my son. Don’t shut me out."

Micah’s fingers curled into the fabric of his sheets. He squeezed until his knuckles ached.

"But mum," he said, voice rising without meaning to, "he is also your son. Why aren’t you showing interest in him?"

There was a long inhale on the other end.

"Darling, human affection is not something you could just switch on and off..." Elina replied, voice low. "It takes time. Even if I want to get close, he is not ready to receive it. You can’t push it. I know you are under pressure," Elina continued gently, "thinking you stole everything from him... but did you ever ask him what he actually feels?"

Micah looked at the floor blankly, eyes dimmed. He shook his head, though she couldn’t see it. The truth was that he hadn’t asked. He had been too ashamed. Too convinced Darcy must resent him deep down.

"Mum," he whispered, pressing his palm against his chest as if trying to steady the frantic beating of his heart. "I need to go my way, I need to show him I don’t have any interest in Ramsy’s business. Not just to him, but to everyone."

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of his room, hand tugging at his hair.

"I chose this career because I actually want it," he said, pacing again. "You know I tried to get into showbiz before. This isn’t some impulsive escape. And... and if I stay on this path, then whatever attention or backlash comes from the whole baby-swap thing will fall on me. Not Darcy. This way I will be the one who gets the burn of it."

He stopped walking and leaned back against the wall, head resting against the cool surface.

"I can protect myself. I can handle it. I’ve dealt with worse growing up... you know that." His voice cracked. "Mum... It’s the only thing I can do to repay him.