From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 572: Something’s Off (part two)

Darcy stayed in the living room long after Micah slipped out toward the kitchen. His eyes followed Micah’s retreating back, watching the stiff way his shoulders hunched and the slight tremor in his hands. Something was wrong. Anyone could see it.

Vivian, clearly not one of those people, clicked her tongue and continued her running commentary, arms crossed and voice dripping with disdain.

"Look at him, pretending to be master of the house," she snorted, loud enough for half the room to hear. "He’s just scared because the real heir is back. He should know his place..."

"Are you finished?"

Darcy’s voice cut through the room like a blade. Not loud. Not harsh. But sharp enough that the air itself seemed freeze.

Vivian turned, startled. "Excuse me?"

Darcy looked at her steadily, eyes cold. "I said...are you finished? Because if you are, good. And if you’re not, I honestly don’t care." His tone remained calm, almost too calm. "I don’t associate with people who toss aside someone who’s been their cousin for twenty years just because a DNA test suddenly told them to."

Vivian’s face burned red instantly, her mouth opening and closing like she had too many words and none that could save her.

Before she could spit anything out, Darcy turned away.

He walked toward the sofa where Aunt Felicity sat with her two kids. Jemima and Arlo looked like startled quails, wide-eyed and stiff. Darcy moved quietly, sitting beside them with a polite, composed air.

Aunt Mabel was in the middle of scolding Vivian behind them, her voice rising and falling in angry whispers, while Cora sat munching on a pastry completely immersed in her own world.

Felicity straightened as Darcy took the seat next to her. She cleared her throat softly, smoothing her skirt. "Darcy," she greeted with a gentle smile, "welcome to the family. I... know this isn’t an easy night."

Her voice was cautious but warm. Darcy nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Compared to the rest of the Ramsy family, his two aunts often stayed neutral in the family’s constant tension. Because of that, Darcy didn’t feel as guarded with them.

He shifted his attention to the children, who had been staring at him with big, identical dark eyes. Jemima looked shy but curious; Arlo looked like he was trying to solve a math problem just by staring at Darcy’s face.

Arlo spoke first. "Are you... our new brother?"

The question was so innocent that Darcy couldn’t help softening. "Yes," he said with a small smile. "I guess that makes us family."

Arlo’s expression crumpled instantly. His lips wobbled; his eyes filled with tears so fast it almost startled Darcy.

"That means...hhic...brother Micah will leave us?" Arlo blurted. His tiny hands fisted up. "I don’t want that! I don’t want..." He suddenly shot to his feet, voice cracking. "Go back to where you came from!"

His shout echoed across the room, sharp and panicked.

Darcy didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He simply sat there, watching the boy with a calm steadying presence.

Aunt Felicity gasped. "Arlo!" she snapped, grabbing her son’s wrist. "What nonsense, sit down this instant!" Her voice trembled with embarrassment. She looked at Darcy and bowed her head slightly. "I’m so sorry, he’s just... very attached to Micah. Please don’t take it seriously."

Owen, who rarely spoke without reason, nodded stiffly. "He looks up to Micah," he added. "A lot."

Darcy lifted a hand gently. "It’s fine. Really," he said. "Honestly... It’s a good thing."

Both parents blinked in surprise.

Darcy glanced at Arlo again, offering a faint smile. "He’s standing up for his big brother. That’s loyalty. Something...." his eyes flicked to Vivian, razor-sharp. "Others seem to lose the moment things get inconvenient."

Vivian’s eyes widened, fury quickly boiling up. She glared at Darcy like she wanted to set him on fire.

Good, he thought. Let her stew.

Jemima scooted closer to him, her tiny fingers tugging at the hem of his sleeve. "You’re so handsome," she whispered shyly. "Can I... be your little sister?"

Darcy blinked, then chuckled softly. He reached out and gently patted her head. Her hair was soft and smelled faintly of strawberry shampoo.

"I already have a little sister," he said gently. "But you, Jemima... you can be my little cousin."

Jemima’s face blossomed into a smile so sweet it nearly melted the tension in the room.

Cora peeked at him from the corner, dying inside. She knew who he was. She and Micah had played games with him. She never thought DarkVyne had ended up being her lost cousin. She wanted to jump up and hug him, asking about the LOJ game, but with everyone present, she couldn’t blow her cover.

Across the room, Jacob was pacing, constantly adjusting his glasses and tugging at his sleeve. His nervous energy filled the air so strongly that Darcy didn’t even need to look directly at him to sense it.

Something was wrong.

But Darcy pretended not to notice, leaning back slightly as if he were simply observing the room.

He was here tonight for one reason:

To avoid repeating the mistakes of his previous life.

He would not allow himself to be isolated, to be used, to be manipulated in the shadows again.

If he had to stand in this family’s living room and smile through every fake greeting, he would. He would stay on neutral ground, on visible ground, where no one could twist him into a pawn like last time.

Even if it was all for show... he wouldn’t be the fool twice.

**********

Micah pushed open the kitchen door, expecting noise, movement, chatter, something normal.

Instead, the room felt quiet. Too quiet. Except for the cook stirring pots, there was no sound.

Elina sat at the small table near the window, hands clenched together, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Her eyes were swollen red, and she stared at the floor like she was afraid to look anywhere else.

Micah’s heart plummeted.

"Mum?" His voice cracked as he stepped toward her.

Elina jerked her head up, startled. When she saw him, she forced a soft smile, though her eyes wavered. "Sweetheart... you’re here."

Micah hurried to her side, crouching down so he could look up at her face. "What happened?"

Elina shook her head quickly, but the motion was weak. "Nothing you need to worry about now."

"That’s not an answer." Micah’s voice trembled. He glanced around. "Where are Aria and Willow? And Grandpa? Why aren’t they out front?"

Elina pressed her lips together, eyes darting away.

Micah’s stomach tightened. He reached out, holding her cold hands in his. "Mum... please. Tell me."

Still nothing.

Micah inhaled sharply. Then, very softly: "Is it... Grandma?"

Elina stiffened.

The silence was enough of an answer.

Micah staggered backward a step, reaching blindly for a chair to keep himself steady. "No... no, no..." His breath hitched.

He thought bringing Grandpa Lu would buy her more time. He thought he could change fate.

Elina’s tears welled up again, spilling down her cheeks.

"She... she just collapsed," she whispered brokenly. "Her heart went into arrhythmia so suddenly. Aria and Willow called your grandfather and rushed her to the hospital." She covered her mouth with her hand. "She made them promise not to tell anyone yet. Not until after tonight."

Micah’s chest tightened painfully.

"Why?" he choked.

Elina swallowed hard. "She was... worried. She didn’t want Darcy to be blamed. Or for anyone to think he brought bad luck to the house. She didn’t want anyone whispering about him being the ’unlucky child’ whose arrival sent her to the hospital."

Micah shut his eyes tightly. His grandmother, his tough, stubborn, gentle grandmother, was thinking about Darcy even during an emergency. Protecting him. Covering for him. Loving him. His throat burned.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his mother. Elina leaned into him, trembling, holding onto him like she had been waiting for someone to catch her.

"It’s okay, Mum," Micah whispered against her shoulder. "Let’s go out there. Let everyone eat something. Then... then we’ll go to the hospital. Together."

Elina nodded weakly.

Micah pulled back, blinking hard to keep his vision clear. He turned toward the fridge, opening it with jerky movements. His hands shook so much the bottles inside rattled.

He grabbed a cold pack, shut the door, and gently pressed it to Elina’s swollen eyes.

His voice was barely steady. "Here... this will help."

His hands trembled the entire time, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.