From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 575: When Relatives Gather, Daggers Follow (part three)
Darcy slipped away from Albert’s siblings the moment their attention shifted toward Elina and Jacob. His steps were quick and silent, almost like he’d just escaped a battlefield. The moment he felt a safe distance between himself and those opportunistic relatives, his shoulders loosened.
His eyes scanned the room until he found Micah and Aria standing by a side table. Micah was sipping juice, Aria was teasing him about something, and both seemed blissfully unaware of the chaos Darcy had just endured.
Darcy approached them with an expression that could only be described as betrayed. His lips were tight, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed in silent accusation.
Micah spotted him and immediately grinned. "Welcome to the family."
Darcy glared, stepping right into Micah’s personal space. "Compensate me right now," he hissed. "Or I’m walking out of this house."
Aria snorted and lifted her drink toward him. "Too late. You’re already one of us."
Micah reached over and patted Darcy’s back with exaggerated comfort. "Relax. This older brother can scatter those vultures in a few minutes. You just need to look pitiful enough."
Darcy’s expression didn’t lighten in the slightest. "No thank you. The last time you ’helped’ me, I still feel like coughing up blood every time I think about it."
Aria perked up instantly. "Oh? I smell gossip. Tell me what he did."
Darcy stared at her, unable to stop the surreal feeling creeping over him. Conversations with Micah and Aria used to be stiff, strained, filled with misunderstandings and hidden emotions. Now, they were tossing jokes back and forth as if they’d always been close. The contrast from his last life made the moment feel dreamlike.
He sighed. "He invested in my new app."
Micah puffed up proudly.
Darcy added flatly, "But he sneakily hid a clause in the contract. It basically shackles me to him."
Aria blinked. "New app?"
Micah jumped in before Darcy could answer, bouncing slightly on his feet. "A new game he invented! It’s brilliant. Amazing. Addictive. He showed me the beta version earlier and I almost cried."
Darcy stared at him with a small, reluctant smile. Micah’s silver hair shone under the warm light, and the excitement in his eyes was unfiltered, bright, earnest, and entirely too transparent.
The sight softened Darcy more than he admitted.
A few quiet minutes passed as noise filled the living room, distant relatives laughing loudly, servants carrying in trays of drinks, soft music floating in the background. Aria excused herself to talk to an uncle about something, leaving Darcy and Micah by the table.
Micah reached for a glass from the tray a maid was carrying, lifting it to his lips without a second thought.
He took a long drink, swallowing it all in one go.
Then he froze. His eyebrows pinched. His throat bobbed tightly. He lowered the empty glass and stared at it.
Darcy’s heart lurched. "What is it?"
Micah didn’t speak for a moment. He looked at the empty glass again, blinking twice before his expression twisted in confusion, and then alarm.
"...What the hell," Micah whispered. What was the meaning of this? Why did his non alcoholic drink turn into a high-concentration one? Why did the plot fall on him instead of Darcy?
He had drowned it in one take, burning his throat and stomach. Shit! Who was it? Who had changed his drink?
Darcy leaned in. "Micah?"
Micah cleared his throat, except it wasn’t just clearing, it was the sound of someone fighting off a burn. "This was supposed to be non-alcoholic."
Darcy’s eyes widened. "And?"
"And it’s not," Micah said through gritted teeth. "This is... something strong. Really strong. Whoever swapped my drink didn’t just spike it...they poured a whole shot into it."
Darcy’s gaze sharpened instantly. His stance shifted, ready for danger. "Someone changed your drink?"
Micah clutched his stomach lightly. "My throat is burning. I’d never miss something this strong. Someone did this on purpose."
Aria returned at exactly that moment and stopped when she saw Micah’s flushed face.
"What happened?" she demanded.
Micah explained quickly, still gripping the edge of the table.
Aria’s expression darkened like a summer storm. Without another word, she spun around and marched toward the servants, eyes blazing.
Darcy stepped closer to Micah, lowering his voice. "Can you walk? We should get out of here before whoever did this tries something else."
Micah inhaled slowly, steadying himself. "Yeah. Let’s move."
His steps were firm at first, but Darcy stayed at his side, ready to grab him if he swayed. The crowd barely paid attention... they were heading toward the dinner area anyway, so their movement seemed natural.
But Micah’s face was growing redder by the second. His breathing changed, uneven and tense. He muttered curses under his breath, most of which would have gotten him scolded by Elina if she had heard.
"Damn it," he whispered. "What am I supposed to do about the dinner?"
"Forget the dinner," Darcy replied sharply. "We can go to the hospital." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢
Micah stopped walking immediately. "Absolutely not."
Darcy blinked. "Micah..."
"I’m not ruining Grandma’s effort." Micah’s voice cracked slightly, not from emotion but from the alcohol searing his throat. "She worked so hard for this dinner to happen.
If I leave with you, everyone will gossip about you. It’ll turn into a scene."
Darcy stared at him, exasperated. "What?"
Micah didn’t answer immediately. He reached out, grabbing Darcy’s wrist. His hand was warm and trembling slightly.
"She’s in the hospital..." Micah murmured hoarsely. "You have to be here. Promise me."
Darcy’s chest tightened. He hesitated, but only for a second. "...Fine," he said softly. "I’ll stay. I’ll get Driver Dan to take you. And call Clyde, tell him to meet you at the hospital."
Micah nodded.
Together, they walked toward the main doors. A servant opened them politely, unaware of Micah’s condition. Darcy kept his hand pressed against Micah’s lower back, guiding him down the steps with slow, careful steps.
Driver Dan immediately got out of the car, eyes widening as he saw Micah.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
"Just drive," Darcy instructed firmly. "Straight to the hospital."
Micah climbed into the back seat with surprising decisiveness for someone flushed red. Darcy helped close the door, making sure Micah didn’t bump his head on the frame. Inside the car, Micah slumped back, letting out a quiet groan.
Darcy stood there for a moment, watching as the car pulled forward through the gates.
His fingers curled into fists. None of this happened in his previous life.
When he first returned to the Ramsy family back then, Grandma was already gone. The welcome dinner had been cold, distant... no warm smiles, no curious relatives, no siblings chatting at his side. He had been ignored, mocked, belittled, and tossed aside like a defective product.
And Micah... Micah had never been drunk like this. Or maybe he had, and Darcy simply hadn’t noticed.
He had been too consumed with his own bitterness, too overwhelmed by betrayal, too blinded by resentment to pay attention.
Now, watching the car disappear into the night, Darcy felt heat rise in his chest, not anger but a sick twist of self-blame.
He should’ve known better. After hearing Darren brag about the Wilson family earlier...
After remembering how the Lobarts had played a role in the downfall of the Ramsys. After recognising the shifts in the room tonight...
He should’ve been prepared. He should’ve watched Micah closer. He should’ve anticipated an attack as soon as someone learned where the Ramsys’ weakness lay.
Darcy’s jaw tightened. This life was supposed to be different. He would not allow the same tragedy to unfold again.
He straightened his posture and inhaled deeply, his expression sharpening into something cold, focused, and dangerous.
Whoever tampered with Micah’s drink...
They’d made their move first. Darcy would make sure it was their last.
