From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 252: Sweet Like Jasmine

A few hours earlier:

Clyde sat cross-legged in the lotus room, his back against a carved sandalwood pillar, listening to his friends argue for an hour. The incense had burned halfway down, teacups drawn one after another, the discussion heated. His head spun, not from incense or the noise, but from the utter absurdity of the conversation.

"I’m telling you, he should just kiss the boy and be done with it!" Dylon snapped, slapping his palm against the woven mat as if that settled everything.

Clyde’s brow twitched.

"Are you crazy?" Lin Heye shot back. "He will come off as a total creep! No one wants to be ambushed like that."

"Oh please," Dylon said, dropping onto his back with a dramatic groan. "I just wink at my fans, and they’ll squeal like crazy. Imagine that face comes at them," he said, pointing at Clyde.

"That’s not the point!" Lin Heye threw his hands in the air, frustrated.

"No," Georgina interjected. "What Clyde needs is to create the moment. Give him the hints. Candlelight. A romantic dinner. Live music, champagne. Maybe a nice Schick gift, something like a designer watch. He will be totally hooked. Trust me."

Clyde blinked. Hooked?

Mason scoffed loudly. "Hello! He is going to a banquet. Hosted by his own family. What date? What restaurant? There won’t be any unless he kidnapped the boy."

"So what do you suggest Mr Smarty Pants?" Georgina retorted, rolling her eyes.

"He just has to show up at the banquet. Say happy birthday. Micah’s family will take care of the rest," Mason replied, folding his arms in confidence.

"Yeah! Like hell freezes over, and Clyde does that. He would never use his patriarchal card to force him." Lin Heye shook his head.

They were still arguing, the suggestion turning to a new bizarre way, when Clyde rose to his feet. "I’m going out for some air," he said, voice low and tired.

He left the room quietly.

Of course, nobody replied; no one even noticed he was gone. They were too busy coming up with strange ideas.

Clyde shook his head. It had been a mistake asking them for advice. He had hoped, naively, that they might give him a normal suggestion. But the truth was obvious now.

None of them had been in a real relationship. Not one.

Dylon fell for anyone who smiled at him. Georgina could seduce a wall but believed affection was transactional. Lin Heye had a childhood sweetheart, waiting for the day she accepted him. Mason... well, he was just a jerk.

All of them were brilliant, yet so deeply isolated. Products of powerful families, absurd expectations, and long, silent wars. They could win competitions, run a fashion industry, bring a dead person back to life, but talk about love?

No. That was beyond their abilities.

Clyde walked slowly through the hall, hands in his pockets. Eventually, he slipped out the back, then toward the small private garden where no one bothered to go.

The space was quiet. Jasmine vines crept along the stone edge, their yellow blossoms fully open, glowing faintly in the afternoon haze. He stood there for a moment, breathing in the sweet scent, feeling warm.

He chuckled suddenly, picturing Micah stumbling into the garden. He could almost see him, sucking nectar from the flowers like a mischievous child.

His hands moved of their own accord. He crouched and began picking a few of the flowers, selecting only the best, yellow, unbruised, freshly opened. One by one, he arranged them into a tiny bouquet, tucking the stems together with gentle fingers.

Why was he doing this? He didn’t know. It was stupid. He could buy the most expensive flower. Micah was probably surrounded by the best bouquets, too.

But he still wanted to give these flowers to Micah.

A few minutes later, he got out of the garden and climbed into his car.

He set the bouquet carefully beside the boxed cake on the passenger seat, adjusting it to the petals wouldn’t bruise. Then he drove.

The Ramsy estate was lit up like an old-world fortress carved out of wealth and pride. Clyde didn’t drive up to the gates. He parked on the edge of the estate, half in the shadows, just far enough to see without being seen.

He sat there for a while, engine off, letting the jasmine-scented air wrap around him. One by one, luxury vehicles pulled up and emptied out well-dressed guests. Laughter spread through the air. High heels clicked against polished stones.

He grabbed his phone and sent a message to Micah.

CL: When you’re free, call me.

It was direct, short, and simple. He didn’t want to spam Micah’s phone with messages and calls. He just wanted him to know he was there.

He waited patiently, staring at the screen. Minutes passed. No reply.

Then a new message came on his other phone. Not from Micah. From Dean.

Clyde opened it, expecting something trivial. But what he read made his knuckles turn white around the phone.

His throat went dry.

What was the meaning of this? Everyone knew the Ramsy family was just putting on a show? That they looked down on Micah? That Micah was the only one who thought he was spoiled? Cherished? But just got 5 per cent shares?

The rumours weren’t just rumours, then? 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

The entire charade of the birthday banquet was exactly that, a charade. A performance.

Clyde reached for the prayer beads around his wrist, fingers sliding over each one like it might hold back the storm in his chest. What he had assumed all these times, it appeared it was true.

Micah was unwanted in his family. He was tolerated.

His dodging, his reluctance to call or explain, his quiet evasions... it all made sense now.

Clyde’s breath came slower. He stared through the windshield, but his eyes didn’t focus.

He felt every fibre of his body aching, sorrow filling every inch of him.

Micah, the lively, energetic boy, the sweet troublemaker, how could he be unwanted?

Author’s note:

Jasmine flowers stand for love, purity, and hope, and the name comes from the Persian word "yasmin," meaning "gift from God". I thought that fit Clyde’s feelings toward Micah really well.

And I just love jasmine. As a kid, I used to sneak into my grandma’s garden and sip nectar from flowers. (And yes, I totally got scolded for it, haha). What about you guys? Do you have a favourite flower?