From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 140: When Gossip Hits Too Close to Home

Chapter 140: When Gossip Hits Too Close to Home

Lin Heye opened his WeChat and quickly tapped into the Prodigy Kids group chat, his thumbs flying with dramatic energy.

ShiningBoy: Guys!!! Listen!! I saw something today that made me question life!

GracefulGoddess: Having a seizure?

MagicalSon: Saw what? A fish head that looks just like you?

SeaLion: just say it...

Lin Heye grinned wide, fingers twitching with the excitement of being the bearer of juicy gossip.

ShiningBoy: Clyde brought a boy here!

MagicalSon: So?

ShiningBoy: No, no, you don’t get it! He, the human iceberg, behaved like a handicapped husband!

SeaLion: I think you are still half-asleep.

GracefulGoddess: No Way! Silver-haired boy?

ShiningBoy: That’s right! How do you know?

GracefulGoddess: I saw him yesterday!

MagicalSon: Are you guys high? What are you talking about?!

SeaLion: Isn’t that his nephew from abroad?

ShiningBoy: No, he called Clyde, mister! Like he was some old dude! Not uncle!

GracefulGoddess: I knew it! What muse?! Who hangs up on Me for just a muse?

MagicalSon: I don’t believe it. @RiverBridge, hey come out and tell these lunatics to shut up.

ShiningBoy: He is sitting beside his sweetheart. He has no time to check on us!

RiverBridge: Where is our dinner?

ShiningBoy: Ahhhhh...,,

SeaLion: light a candle...

MagicalSon: RIP...

Lin Heye looked in horror at his screen. Clyde never read this WeChat group. What was with his luck today?

"What are you doing still standing there?" Clyde asked from behind.

Lin Heye jolted in fright. "Ahh..."

Clyde folded his arms, the air around him was icy. "So? Still want to type?"

Lin Heye turned off the screen like it was on fire. "Nope! No typing! All done!" He let out a nervous laugh and spun on his heels. "I’ll go now!" he literally ran toward the kitchen.

Clyde watched him retreat as his expression darkened. Deep in his gut, something twisted. He had read the message when he had only meant to distract himself. The words "handicapped husband... sweetheart" echoed in his head like a taunt. He knew he treated Micah differently but for Lin Heye to say those words about him...

He clenched his jaw. Was that how it looked from the outside?

He didn’t mean to act that way. Or maybe he did, subconsciously. Something about Micah made him want to... Protect. To announce to everyone Micah was tied to him. But he hated how out of control that made him feel.

Conflicting emotions tangled inside of him, clouding his thoughts.

He needed some fresh air. Clyde stepped onto the open deck and took deep breaths. The night breeze met him, cooling down his overheated mind.

Only when his expression had settled into calm composure did he turn back inside.

By the time he returned, the table had been filled with hot fragrant dishes. Micah looked up, eyebrows pulled into a frown.

"There you are! The food is getting cold." Micah grumbled. He had to wait for this jerk to come back. He couldn’t start eating when Uncle Lin didn’t move his chopstick. That would be rude. Seeing all the delicious food but not being able to eat it, was pure torture!

Clyde sat down, carefully putting some space between himself and Micah. A small but intentional distance.

Lin Heye peeked from the side of the table, smirking. He thought Clyde’s move was because of his text messages.

Clyde ignored him. His real reason for the distance wasn’t gossip. It was the touch. The warmth of Micah’s hands from earlier still lingered on his skin. If he sat too close again, Clyde was worried he might slip. Micah had already broken many of his norms and rules. But this time he didn’t want to be under his spell. His interest in Micah was not in that direction.

Uncle Lin finally moved his chopsticks, and Micah immediately dug into the soup with a happy sigh.

Clyde slowly reached for a lotus root. He didn’t know why but instead of placing it on his own plate, his hand moved on instinct, dropping it gently into Micah’s bowl.

The scene made everyone, except the boy, pause subtly. Micah, always being served, did not notice anything strange and ate it.

Lin Heye’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He glanced between the two of them like he had stumbled upon a fat juicy scoop.

No one spoke much during the dinner. Clyde didn’t realise how many times he served Micah until Lin Heye raised an eyebrow at him.

When dinner was over, Micah leaned back and rubbed his stomach.

"It was so delicious. And best of all it made my stomach feel better."

He stood and bowed slightly. "Thanks, Grandpa Lin. And thank you too, Mr. Lin!"

He said farewell and followed Clyde to the car, steps light, almost skipping. He seemed to glow with satisfaction.

Once inside the car, Micah buckled up his seatbelt and turned toward Clyde. "When are you free?"

Clyde started the engine. "Why? Want to use me to score another free meal?"

"No! My god, have you forgotten already? You promised to show my sketches to Georgina!" Micah scoffed.

"Hmm.." Clyde pulled the car out of the parking lot. "Stay at the uni, eat on time, take care of your stomach. Be obedient and maybe I’ll give you that reward."

"What? Am I a four-year-old kid?"

"With your track record?" Clyde said. "You’re lucky I even trust you to breathe without supervision."

Micah muttered under his breath, "First it was Darcy, now this jerk too? Why do I attract so many pains in the neck..."

Clyde glanced at him briefly. "Oh, right. This Sunday, we’ll come back here for your acupuncture therapy."

Micah paused but then nodded. This weekend..well he did not know when Aidan would agree to meet him. Worst case scenario he would just cancel on Clyde.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, the city lights passing them by like quiet thoughts.

After half an hour, they reached the university gates. Micah unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."

He stepped out and shut the door, waving briefly before disappearing down the walkway.

Clyde sat there in the car, motionless. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

He was scared. Not of Micah. Not of what others would say. But of himself. Scared he could not control his surging emotions. He had decided to help Micah to prevent another tragedy, afraid the boy might end up like his deceased mother, father, and uncle. But he had not anticipated to be dragged into a whirlpool.

He didn’t expect the boy’s smile to stick to his thoughts. Didn’t expect the warmth. The way Micah’s presence made the air less heavy.

Clyde stared through the windshield. Emotions were messy. Dangerous. He kept repeating it, like a chant, desperate to believe it wasn’t getting out of hand.

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