From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 54: Ashes of a Legacy

Chapter 54: Ashes of a Legacy

Inside the ancestral study of the Durant estate, the heavy scent of sandalwood clung to the air, mingling with herbal medicine and the faint bitterness of aged incense. The room, lined with dark wooden shelves full of ancient recipes and boxes of herbs, was a testament to the traditional medicine family’s legacy.

The sharp crack of a slap broke the silence, echoing off the carved ceiling beams.

In the middle of it, Silas Durant stood rigid, his head turned to the side, a red imprint spreading across his left cheek. The corner of his lips had split, and he could taste blood in his mouth. His father’s antique jade ring had not only struck flesh but also pride.

"You! Do you even comprehend what you have done? You destroyed our family’s spotless reputation! A legacy built over a century shattered in a single moment!" Norman Durant, his father, spat. His face flushed a deep crimson, and his finely tailored traditional robes looked wrinkled from his fury.

Silas didn’t flinch. His tall frame remained steady.

From the side, Rupert Durant, his white-bearded grandfather, slammed his ornate cane against the wooden floor with a crack.

"Our ancestors are turning in their graves! You used our family name, our legacy, to manipulate a young man?! You dared to stain the Durant name like this?"

Victor Durant, his uncle, leaned against an antique desk, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

"Good thing I arrived in time, otherwise, you, like a fool, would have stepped into the pharmacy. What were you thinking? Did you want to come clean to him and apologise? Or making excuses? How have I never realised you were such a romantic idiot?!"

Silas looked at them in silence. All three of them had finely groomed hair, a polished appearance, and righteous demeanours. These men, who had panicked, running around like headless chickens the moment a call from the AHPRA came through, hadn’t once thought about the person wronged. Their concern wasn’t justice at all. It was all about their reputation, their image.

The hypocrisy was laughable.

"Are you smiling?!" his father roared suddenly, seizing the nearest book from the table and throwing it at him.

Silas didn’t dodge it. The thick leather-bound volume hit his temple with a dull thud. He staggered slightly, blinking as blood began to ooze from a cut just above his brow.

No one paid attention to it. No flicker of concern crossed their faces.

"Have you found out why the AHPRA responded so quickly?" his grandfather asked.

His father’s face turned ashen. "Yeah, it was a complaint from the Ramsy Patriarch."

"What?" his uncle straightened abruptly. "How could that poor young man have a connection to the Ramsy family?"

His father, Norman, rubbed his temple, frustration visible.

"No, according to the staff, there was another boy with him. He argued with pharmacists, then made a call to someone. The staff said he had disguised himself with a cap and sunglasses. But one said he had seen a snow-white hair strand."

"No way! Except for that arrogant brat, who in the Ramsy family fits that description? Not to say, who could ask a favour from Albert Ramsy except for his own grandchild? That old man would never lift a finger for a distant relative or business partner," his uncle said.

Silas listened seriously. He had met the young master of the Ramsy family last week in the hospital... it seemed he was the same age as Darcy. Could it be him? But why? The difference between Darcy and him was like day and night. How could they be connected?

"Wait! Silas, I sent you last week to see him! What did you do to him?! Huh? You couldn’t even manage such a simple task of being polite to them?"

Norman pointed a finger at his son.

"That’s illogical. If they were displeased with Silas, they would have demanded an apology straightforwardly. Why go this roundabout way? They are businessmen. They could have asked for a profitable deal instead." Victor disagreed.

"Regardless, we are now treading on thin ice. Silas!" his grandfather called him. "You will go to their home. Apologise, offer money, enough to appease them. Don’t make it grand, let the media get a whiff of it. The last thing we need is the public opinion turning against us."

"I don’t think sending Silas is a good idea." his father cut in quickly. "He is stiff and can not utter a word of flattery to ease their attitude. We don’t need more trouble."

The three men nodded in agreement.

"Let sister-in-law go. She is graceful and knows how to handle these matters. People like her more." his uncle suggested.

Silas’s lips twitched, and bitter amusement filled his eyes. These men didn’t even want to deal with the aftermath, sending his mother to clean up after him. How convenient.

With every second, his hate toward the Durant men increased.

With the next move planned, they turned their attention to Silas.

"Go kneel in the ancestor hall, apologise to them. You are forbidden to step foot out of it until you completely repent!"

His grandfather barked, voice ringing with finality.

Silas bowed slightly and stiffly. Then he took one last look at them and turned around, stepping outside.

In the long corridor, his mother, with her slender figure, paced anxiously in front of the door. Luna Francis had a delicate face, the kind that still retained youth despite her age. Her chestnut brown eyes, soft and expressive, widened in horror when she saw him. "Ah! Son!" she exclaimed, rushing to his side, but she tripped.

"Madam!" a maid caught her by the arm, stabilising his mother’s shaky figure.

"Quick! Bring the first aid kit!" his mother ordered, her voice trembling.

She led Silas to a room, skillfully disinfected the wound, and examined it. "Ah, good, it’s just a graze," she said, putting a band-aid on it.

Silas sat still. His dark hair fell over his brow, concealing his eyes.

Then Luna sat beside him, grabbing her son’s hand and gently looking at him.

"Mum... I am sorry... I dragged you into this mess..." Silas said softly.

His mother brushed his black hair back and replied. "What have you implicated? You know why your father married me. Even without you making trouble, my role in this family was assigned a long ago."

She paused and then asked hesitantly.

"I just want to know the reason."

Silas looked at his mother’s brown eyes and swallowed hard. The only thing he had inherited from his mother had been those eyes.

"I... want him to myself..." he replied dryly.

His mother’s face didn’t falter. She always had known he was not interested in women, shielding him from arranged marriages, dodging Durant’s desperate attempts to secure alliances through their only son.

"Why this way?" she asked, and then realisation dawned. Her pupils trembled. "No way! Don’t tell me it’s because of..."

"Mum, I have to ancestral hall." Silas stood up abruptly, cutting off her mother’s words.

He walked out with a straight posture, resolved.

His mother, Luna Francis, looked at his back, her eyes reddening with unshed tears.