From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 603: An Auction, a Lobby, and Absolutely No One Minded Their Business (part one)
Clyde’s arm tightened around Micah’s waist, the motion slow but unmistakably protective. He drew him closer until Micah’s back rested fully against his chest, the warmth of his body a steady presence behind him. Clyde leaned forward slightly, lowering his chin to rest against Micah’s shoulder. His breath brushed the side of Micah’s neck, warm, faintly uneven, lingering there longer than necessary.
"I told him what you wanted," Clyde said quietly. "But... do you really have to take this kind of risk?"
The concern in his voice was impossible to miss.
Micah paused his scrolling, thumb hovering over the screen. He could feel the tension in Clyde’s body, the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his arm around Micah was firm but not restrictive, as if he were holding himself back from pulling Micah away from this plan entirely.
Clyde didn’t know the full picture. He didn’t know what Micah intended to do tonight beyond "investigate" and "observe." The only comfort he clung to was that Micah wouldn’t be appearing as himself. Asena’s identity was a shield, carefully constructed, meticulously maintained.
But even shields cracked.
If someone recognised him, the fallout would be immediate and irreversible.
Micah lifted his hand from the phone and reached back, fingers brushing Clyde’s cheek. His touch was gentle, the pad of his thumb lingering just below Clyde’s eye as if to smooth away the worry etched there.
"You’ll be right beside me," Micah said softly. "I won’t leave your sight. Not for a second."
Clyde closed his eyes briefly, leaning into the touch without meaning to. "That’s... good," he murmured. "That helps."
It did help. A little.
What Micah didn’t say, what he kept carefully to himself, was the deeper reason he felt assured. According to their past lives, Clyde had an innate ability to repel the system and the plot influence.
Micah was gambling on it.
Even if Noas Lobart appeared tonight at the auction, he was prepared. Aside from Asena’s persona, Micah guessed the system could not detect him as the fake heir, with or without the disguises.
The system struggled with Clyde.
Micah had noticed it long ago. If the system was watching tonight, Micah believed Clyde’s presence would blur the signal. Confuse it. Force it to hesitate.
A glitch. And that glitch would trace back to Clyde.
That was why Micah wouldn’t leave his side. Not even for a moment.
Clyde’s breath brushed Micah’s ear again, warmer this time, trailing down his neck. The proximity made Micah’s skin prickle, not from nerves, but from the quiet intimacy of it. He shifted slightly, the sensation distracting enough that he tossed his phone onto the sofa with a soft thud.
"I should get ready," Micah said, straightening.
Clyde’s arms loosened reluctantly, his hands lingering at Micah’s waist for a brief second before dropping away. He nodded once. "I’ll be here."
Micah turned and headed for the guest room.
The guest room lights flicked on with a muted glow, illuminating neatly arranged furniture and a large mirror along one wall. Micah began putting on makeup, changing clothes, and adjusting his appearance with careful precision. Every detail mattered: posture, expression, the way he held himself. Asena was poised, unassuming, forgettable in the way that made people underestimate her.
When he was done, he took one last look in the mirror.
"Alright," he murmured. "Let’s do this."
In the living room, Clyde was already on the phone.
His voice was low and controlled as he spoke to his assistant, issuing clear, concise instructions. Increase security coverage. Monitor every name on the guest list. Cross-reference arrivals in real time. Flag anything unusual.
He paced slowly as he spoke, one hand clenched at his side. He would never step into that venue unprepared.
Once bitten, twice shy. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Francis. Lobart. Wilson. Durant. The names burned in his mind like a warning.
Clyde stopped near the window, staring out at the grey city beyond the glass. His jaw tightened.
He would never let them hurt Micah again.
*****
The auction venue gleamed against the gloomy sky like a beacon.
Despite the drizzle and the biting autumn cold, the area buzzed with life. Lights flooded the grand entrance, reflecting off wet pavement and polished marble steps. The rain only seemed to heighten the spectacle, making everything shine brighter.
Luxury cars lined up one after another, engines purring softly before doors opened. Chauffeurs stepped out first, umbrellas raised, followed by guests dressed in tailored coats, sleek gowns, and jewellery that caught the light with every movement.
Laughter and conversation blended into a low hum as people gathered beneath the wide awning. Staff moved with flawless efficiency, guiding guests inside with polite smiles and practised gestures.
Emile stepped out of the car and paused, eyes darting around with barely contained excitement.
"This place is insane," he muttered.
He turned toward his cousins, Dean and Jacklin, lowering his voice. "Are you sure little uncle will be here?"
Jacklin adjusted her posture instantly, brushing her hair behind her ear. The diamond earring she wore glinted under the entrance lights.
"Stand straight," she murmured. "And stop staring like an idiot. You’re here as a Du Pont."
Emile rolled his eyes inwardly but obeyed, smoothing his coat and slipping on a flawless smile, acting nonchalant.
Dean leaned closer. "Secretary Aston told me," he said quietly. "She overheard that little uncle’s attending...with a plus one."
Emile’s eyes widened. "Seriously? Do you think it’s Micah?"
"Or someone else," Dean replied.
Jacklin stepped forward, heels clicking softly against the marble. "We’ll know soon," she said. "Stop guessing."
Emile followed, curiosity buzzing under his skin. Either way, tonight promised drama.
Micah... or Asena.
He was dying to see how little uncle would act around Micah if he showed up, and whether the rumours were true. Was Clyde really seeing someone else on the side? Was his uncle really two-timing?
And, if he was honest, a small part of Emile hoped Asena would be there.
She had left an impression on him. Kind. Brave. Willing to risk herself to help a stranger’s kid. That didn’t fit the image of someone who would knowingly be a third party. Maybe she was under the impression that Clyde was single?
Dean, on the other hand, looked tense.
He accepted a drink from a passing server, fingers tightening slightly around the glass. He had come with a purpose, to see things with his own eyes. To confront Clyde if necessary.
Even though he feared him, his love for Aria outweighed it. How could he step aside and see Aria’s brother being toyed with by Clyde?
There was no doubt which side Dean would choose: of course his future wife and her family!
