From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 739: A Bit Too Close to Home

Inside the study, Darcy found Clyde seated, his appearance notably less composed than usual. The dark circles beneath his eyes were particularly striking.

Darcy smirked slightly. "Was he too much for you to handle?"

Clyde lifted his head and shot him an unamused glare. "What do you want?"

Darcy seated himself comfortably. "What is your next move?"

"About what?" Clyde asked, pressing his fingers against his temple.

He felt conflicted. He knew Micah had forced those four to make amends to Darcy, and in the end, it was supposed to push Darcy to confront Micah.

He had told Micah about those four meeting each other and he seemed to brighten up! At that point, Clyde was sure the little troublemaker had caused chaos again. So he pried into it until Micah said what he had asked Leo to do.

Clyde was at a loss. He looked at Darcy with a bit of pity. Even though he was jealous of Darcy getting this much attention from Micah. But he didn’t want to become Micah’s next target either.

Darcy studied him briefly before responding, "The man who has been stalking Ilyas."

Clyde raised an eyebrow, seemingly relieved that the topic had shifted. He thought for sure Darcy was going to ask about those four men. Well. Better for him.

"I have already instructed increased security measures and initiated an investigation into his past victims," Clyde replied.

Darcy nodded, his hand clenching slightly. "I saw him this morning. He might act soon."

Clyde’s expression grew more serious as he observed him. "If you are that concerned, you can ask Micah to relocate Ilyas temporarily. It will not solve the issue permanently, but it will give us time."

Darcy stood. "I will speak to him."

As he reached the door, he paused briefly. "Also, try not to be reckless and willful. Micah could have been hurt last night rushing to get you."

A faint redness appeared at the tips of Clyde’s ears. "It was merely a miscalculation."

Darcy let out a quiet scoff before leaving.

Outside, Micah was sprawled comfortably across the length of the sofa, his posture entirely relaxed as though he did not have a single concern in the world weighing upon him. One arm was lazily draped over the backrest, while the other remained occupied with a small pile of sunflower seeds resting in a shallow dish beside him. Every now and then, he would pick one up, bring it to his lips, and crack it open with practised ease before spitting the empty shell into a plate with casual accuracy. His attention, however, was primarily fixed upon the television in front of him, where a drama was unfolding with exaggerated intensity.

When Darcy entered, he paused briefly, taking in the scene before moving forward. Without announcing himself, he walked over and lowered himself onto the sofa beside Micah. His movements were natural, yet his expression carried a trace of fatigue and distraction, as though his thoughts were still lingering elsewhere.

His gaze shifted toward the television, drawn in by the raised voices of the characters.

It was a modern drama, one of those overly emotional series filled with conflict, misunderstandings, and dramatic confrontations that seemed to escalate with every passing second.

On the screen, a middle-aged woman stood with a rigid posture, her expression stern yet tinged with unmistakable favouritism as she addressed another young woman in front of her.

"Anna! I am telling you this right now," the woman declared, her voice sharp and unwavering. "Cyci has been raised by me since she was just a child. Do you think I do not understand her character? I know exactly what kind of person she is."

She took a step forward, her tone growing more forceful.

"And even if she likes that necklace, what is the problem with letting her have it? It is merely a design piece, nothing particularly valuable. Why are you making such a big issue out of it? I understand that you have suffered a great deal while living outside all these years, but that does not give you the right to return here and make Cyci feel as though she no longer belongs in this family!"

The camera shifted dramatically to another young woman, her expression gentle and seemingly self-sacrificing.

"Mum, please do not blame my sister," she said softly, lowering her gaze in a display of humility. "This is actually my fault. I should not have insisted on keeping the necklace. I will give it to Cyci. It truly does not matter to me."

However, before the tension could ease, another voice cut in sharply, filled with anger and resentment.

"Cecilia! Stop pretending!" the third girl snapped, her eyes blazing with indignation. "You were the one who took the necklace that I picked first! How dare you act as though you are in the right after that?"

The screen focused closely on the face of the third girl. Her expression hardened subtly, and her eyes flickered with something dark.

Her internal monologue began to play, her voice layered over the scene with a cold, determined edge.

"In my previous life, I always chose to endure. I stepped back, I gave in, and I allowed others to take what was mine without resistance. But what did I gain from that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, aside from even greater humiliation and endless bullying."

Her gaze sharpened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Now that I have been given a second chance, everything will be different. What belongs to me will remain mine. I will not yield even a single inch. Every person who once looked down on me, every one of them will pay the price for what they have done."

The dramatic background music swelled, emphasising the intensity of her resolve.

It was unmistakably one of those classic plots revolving around the conflict between a true and a false heiress, filled with betrayal, identity struggles, and revenge.

Beside Micah, Darcy’s eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly.

He let out a quiet cough, more out of discomfort than necessity, as though trying to dispel the strange sense of familiarity that the scene had stirred within him.

Micah, who had clearly been paying attention not only to the drama but also to Darcy’s reaction, tilted his head slightly. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Look at that," he said, gesturing lazily toward the screen. "Doesn’t that look a bit like us?"

Darcy’s expression remained composed, though there was a fleeting tension in his gaze. He chose to ignore the implication entirely, turning his attention away from the television.

"Micah," he began, his tone shifting into something more serious, "I need a favour."

The casual air around Micah dissipated almost instantly.

He stopped what he was doing, setting aside the remaining sunflower seeds and brushing the empty shells into the plate with a quick motion. His posture straightened slightly as he turned to face Darcy fully, his expression losing its earlier playfulness and becoming attentive. "What is it?" he asked.

Darcy hesitated for only a brief moment before continuing. "It is about Ilyas," he said, his voice measured. "Can you arrange for him to stay somewhere else for a while? Somewhere safe, where he will not be easily found?"

Micah’s brows drew together subtly, his expression darkening as he processed the request.

"We have found a lead regarding the person who has been targeting him," Darcy added, his tone growing more serious. "There is a high chance that he will make a move soon."

The shift in atmosphere was immediate.

Micah’s face grew noticeably more solemn, the lighthearted mood from moments ago completely gone. "Understood," he replied without hesitation. "I will arrange for him to be moved somewhere secure. Leave it to me."

There was no trace of doubt in his voice, only firm resolve. After a brief pause, he added, "And... thank you for looking into this."

Darcy gave a small nod in acknowledgment before pushing himself up from the sofa.

As he turned to leave, Micah tilted his head upward slightly, watching him. "Why don’t you stay for a bit?" he asked casually, though there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Darcy did not even pause in his steps. "No," he replied immediately, his voice firm. "I still have things to take care of."

Without waiting for further conversation, he made his way toward the exit, his pace quickening slightly as though he was eager to put distance between himself and the scene he had just witnessed.

There was absolutely no way he intended to remain there any longer, sitting through a drama that mirrored their own situation so uncomfortably closely.

The mere thought of it made his skin crawl. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Staying would have felt like willingly subjecting himself to a slow, unbearable tension, like sitting on pins and needles, unable to relax even for a moment.

And so, without a second glance, Darcy left the penthouse behind.