From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 638: The Long Night at the Station (part two)

The police station’s top-floor conference room was sealed off from the rest of the building, but the tension inside it felt heavier than any locked door.

Clyde sat at one end of the long metal table, posture straight, hands resting loosely on his knees. His suit was immaculate, not a single wrinkle out of place, yet the stillness of his body carried the quiet pressure of a coiled blade. Across from him sat Nabil Lobart.

Nabil’s shoulders were squared, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the strain beneath his composed exterior. His fingers were interlocked on the table, knuckles faintly pale. Every few seconds, he exhaled sharply through his nose, as if trying to restrain something simmering just below the surface.

Between them sat several senior officers. At the head of the table was Superintendent Kim.

Kim was in his late fifties, hair iron-grey at the temples, his uniform worn with the ease of someone who had spent decades inside interrogation rooms and crisis halls. Deep lines carved his face, not from age alone but from years of dealing with criminals, politicians, and wealthy families who believed the law bent for them. His eyes were sharp, steady, and entirely unimpressed by status.

At the far end of the table sat Luna Francis, legs crossed neatly, hands folded on her lap. Her expression was calm, polite, and distant, the kind of restraint perfected in elite social circles.

Silence stretched across the room.

Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that hummed faintly in the ears.

Finally, Superintendent Kim leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Gentlemen," he said evenly, voice low but carrying weight, "let’s not waste each other’s time."

His gaze moved slowly from Clyde to Nabil.

"The evidence is conclusive. CCTV footage, multiple eyewitness accounts, and forensic reports all align. If this proceeds through formal prosecution, the verdict is almost guaranteed to be imprisonment."

Nabil’s jaw tightened.

Kim continued without pause. "Which means this is no longer a matter of if, but how severe. I assume everyone here understands that... otherwise you would not be sitting in this room seeking a private settlement."

He folded his hands together.

"From my standpoint, Mr Du Pont acted appropriately by pressing charges. Assault of this nature cannot be ignored or minimised."

His eyes shifted to Nabil, steady and unyielding.

"And Mr Lobart, I strongly advise you to have a serious conversation with your younger brother. Blood relation or not, he carries your family name. His actions disgrace more than just himself ... they reflect on you."

The words landed heavily. Kim did not soften them.

He had seen too many powerful families attempt to bury crimes beneath influence.

Clyde’s face remained unreadable, gaze fixed forward.

Nabil’s expression, however, darkened visibly. The muscles beside his mouth twitched as he drew a slow breath through his teeth.

Superintendent Kim then turned toward Luna Francis.

"Mrs Durant," he said coolly, "I informed you earlier that your presence was unnecessary."

Luna lifted her gaze to meet his, unflustered.

"Superintendent Kim," she replied calmly, "the incident occurred at a venue hosted by our family. I believe it is appropriate for me to offer assistance if required."

Kim studied her for a long second, then exhaled through his nose. "This is a criminal investigation, not a board meeting."

Her lips curved faintly. "Understood."

Before Kim could continue, Clyde spoke.

"I will proceed according to the law," Clyde said quietly. "My legal team will coordinate with your office."

His voice was controlled, but something cold and sharp lingered beneath the surface.

"However," he added, lifting his gaze, "I request permission to speak with the suspect."

Nabil turned sharply toward him. "Why?" His eyes narrowed."Is Mr Du Pont planning to educate my brother himself now?"

Clyde met his stare without flinching. "I intend to ask him a question," he said evenly. "You may be present if you wish."

Nabil adjusted his glasses on his face, ready to oppose but then, Clyde continued, his tone hardened. "I am not here for apologies. Not from him. Not from you. But I do have the right to face the man who assaulted my partner."

The room fell silent again.

Superintendent Kim observed Clyde closely. After a moment, he nodded once.

"It is within a victim’s rights to request confrontation," Kim said. "Given the circumstances, I see no legal reason to deny it."

He turned to one of the officers. "Escort Mr Du Pont to the detention wing."

Clyde inclined his head. "Thank you, Superintendent."

He rose smoothly and followed the officer out.

The door closed behind him.

The room felt smaller.

Nabil remained seated while Kim continued speaking, outlining procedures, formal warnings, and the inevitable consequences. The words blurred together in Nabil’s ears.

By the time he was dismissed, his patience was frayed thin.

Outside the conference room, Luna Francis approached him.

"Mr Lobart," she said quietly.

He stopped.

"I will report this matter to my sister," she continued. "It is unfortunate that our collaboration must end this way. I hope that if we meet again, it will be under better circumstances."

Nabil’s hands curled slowly at his sides. "Yes, ma’am," he replied stiffly. "Until we meet again."

He did not plead. He did not ask for reconsideration. He knew it was useless. Tonight, of all nights, Luna Francis had been present.

The irony was bitter.

Among elite families, it was a quietly buried truth that she herself had once been assaulted and forced into a political marriage, not public knowledge, but remembered in certain circles.

Noas had struck the worst possible nerve. Of course, she would be disgusted, wanting to sever ties.

All of his hard work had gone down the drain because of a momentary impulse. He should have known something was up with his little brother. Especially when he had insisted on being discharged and attending the auction.

How could he not notice the change? He was the one who had raised the boy. His eyes had changed when he looked at him.

But regret was meaningless now.

What was spilled could not be gathered back into the cup.