From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 651: Don’t Let Him Know

Darcy stepped out of the hospital room first, easing the door open with careful fingers as if even the small click of the handle might disturb something fragile behind him. The corridor outside was bright with white overhead lights, the air smelling faintly of disinfectant and something floral from a nearby nurse’s station. The moment he crossed the doorway, several heads turned at once. The Ramsy family, who had stood a few meters away, looked at him, their curiosity intense and obvious. Clyde followed right behind, closing the door softly until the latch slid into place with a quiet sound that still felt too loud in the tense hallway.

"I need to talk to you," Clyde murmured close to Darcy’s ear, his voice low and tight, the usual calm tone replaced with something more urgent.

Darcy gave a small nod and started walking down the corridor, shoulders slightly hunched, but before they could take more than a few steps, Jacob’s voice called out behind them, strained and loud.

"Son, wait!"

Darcy’s shoes slowed against the polished floor until he came to a full stop. He could feel it, the weight of their stares landing squarely between his shoulder blades, prickling, impossible to ignore. For a brief second, he closed his eyes, then turned around, his expression already composed.

"Do you need something?" he asked, his gaze moving across the four people standing together, his biological parents and his two sisters. The word family felt strange in his head, like a shirt that didn’t quite fit.

Their eyes kept sliding toward Clyde, then back to Darcy, then to Clyde again, hesitation clear in the way they pressed their lips together. Darcy noticed, of course he did. He glanced sideways at Clyde, the corner of his mouth lifting in a thin, mocking smile.

"Looks like they want to talk to you more than me," he said lightly, but the sarcasm underneath was sharp.

Clyde’s fingers moved unconsciously to his wrist, rubbing over the string of wooden prayer beads there. The small beads clicked softly together as his thumb rolled over them again and again. He was anxious, visibly so. Every second they stood here felt dangerous. He wanted to get Darcy away, somewhere quiet, before those buried memories had a chance to crawl back to the surface.

The very first thing Clyde had done when he entered that hospital room earlier was check Darcy’s face. The calm, blank look had been the same as always, almost reassuring. But Clyde knew better than anyone how good Darcy was at hiding things. He had thought he still had time... time to talk, to guide the conversation somewhere safe before everything collapsed.

But now the Ramsy family was in the way, and time was slipping through his fingers.

"I’m sorry," Clyde said smoothly, stepping half a pace forward, his posture straight despite the tension in his shoulders. "I have something urgent to discuss with Darcy. If it’s not too much trouble, we’ll come back a bit later."

He spoke quickly, not giving Jacob or Elina the chance to interrupt. He knew it sounded abrupt, maybe even rude, but desperation had already taken over.

Elina’s fingers tightened around her handbag strap, and Jacob’s jaw flexed, but in the end, they both nodded. They couldn’t exactly start an argument here in the hallway, not with nurses walking by and other relatives watching.

Clyde gave a short, polite bow, then placed a firm but gentle hand between Darcy’s shoulder blades and steered him forward.

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing down the corridor. The hospital lobby opened up ahead, a wide space with tall windows letting in pale afternoon light. The hum of quiet conversations, the rolling of wheels from stretchers, and the distant ding of elevators blended into a low background noise. They chose a corner near a vending machine and a small round table, half-hidden behind a tall potted plant.

They sat across from each other.

Darcy rested his elbow on the table and began tapping his fingers in a steady, rhythmic pattern against the surface, the soft drumming the only sign of the storm inside him. His eyes never left Clyde.

"Did you deal with them?" he asked.

Clyde sat straight, hands folded loosely but his back was stiff. "Yeah. He won’t cause trouble for Micah. And the Lobarts won’t move against the Ramsy family either. You can relax."

Darcy’s fingers stopped mid-tap. "Good," he said, exhaling through his nose. "Even if I don’t agree with Micah’s way of handling things, I’m glad they’re out of the picture."

He felt Clyde’s stare lingering on him, heavy and searching. Darcy pushed his chair back with a scrape and stood abruptly. "Do you want coffee? My head’s starting to hurt."

Clyde shook his head.

Darcy walked fast toward the small café counter at the corner of the lobby, weaving past people in wheelchairs and visitors carrying flower bouquets. He ordered a large iced Americano for himself, his voice curt, then added a fruit smoothie for Micah. While waiting, he rubbed at his temple, jaw tight.

When he came back and sat down again, he placed the smoothie on the table between them. A restless energy clung to him, like static.

"Seriously, cut it out," Darcy muttered, taking a sip of his coffee and wincing at the coldness. "You’re making me uncomfortable. If I didn’t know how much you love Micah, I’d think you had a thing for me."

"Don’t tell Micah," Clyde said suddenly.

Darcy nearly choked. "Tell what?" He jerked back, hugging himself dramatically. "No way! I was joking! Don’t tell me you actually fell for me! I’ve got goosebumps right now!"

Clyde’s gaze shifted to the smoothie instead. "He can’t drink something that cold. Did you forget about his stomach?"

"Of course I didn’t!" Darcy snapped. "That’s why I’m letting it sit so it warms up!" He stabbed the straw into his coffee cup and took another aggressive sip. "Just spit it out! Damn it. Say what you want already. You’re getting on my nerves."

"Don’t tell him," Clyde repeated.

"Fuck! Are you a broken robot, repeating the same line? I’ve got no idea what the hell you’re talking about!"

"Then why are you so on edge?" Clyde asked quietly.

Darcy inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising and falling. "I’m annoyed. Do you know what she told me? What she made me promise?" He laughed once, humourless. "Isn’t she my grandma too? She made me swear I’d always be a good brother to Micah. Can you believe that?"

Clyde turned his head, watching people pass through the sliding glass entrance doors. "You’re not fooling anyone. Of course, she noticed your feelings."

"What feelings?" Darcy shot back, but his voice wavered. "That was all his. This world’s him, not me. The one who remembers... I can’t forget any of it." His fingers tightened around the coffee cup. "And before my memories came back, I thought she was on my side at least. What did you do to change her mind?"

"Nothing," Clyde said. "She doesn’t like me either. She’s probably just thinking about Micah."

He knew exactly where he stood in Zhou Ruyan’s heart. He would never fool himself into thinking she approved of him being with Micah.

Darcy ran a hand roughly through his hair, messing it up. "Ha. You’re right."

His gaze drifted to the smoothie, and his expression softened despite himself. "He’s such an idiot," he muttered, but there was fondness there. "If anyone else were in his shoes, they would use all this to their advantage, even exploit it. But he was worried about me instead..."

Clyde finally let out a slow breath, the one he had been holding all this time. "You’re handling this better than I expected."

Darcy’s face went blank, all warmth gone. His eyes cooled. "Do you think I’d take my anger out on him?" he sneered, a mocking smile on his face. "Sometimes I think he suffered more than me, the one who was abused and didn’t even know why. He watched people who claimed to love him throw him away just because the plot said so. Then they tormented me instead of loving me."

Clyde leaned forward slightly. "Please... don’t let him know," he said. There was a quiet, desperate plea in his voice.

Darcy tilted his head, eyes sharp. "And if I do? What then? What do you want to do about it?"

"You can ask for anything," Clyde replied. "My money, my name, even my life. Just don’t hurt him."

Darcy barked out a disbelieving laugh. "You’re insane. Why go that far? He’ll never know how far you went for him. You don’t even get brownie points for playing the loyal dog."

"Because he’ll break if he loses you," Clyde muttered, his fingers clutched the edge of the table.

Darcy’s smile vanished. "What do you take me for?" His voice rose. "I even got my hands bloody for him! I’m not heartless! I could never sit back and watch him suffer! Just because you didn’t fall for me, because you fought the plot, don’t assume I’m weak enough to drown in resentment! I know exactly who was at fault and who wasn’t!"

He ended breathless, chest heaving. Then he dragged a hand down his face, exhaustion seeping in. "Tch. I had a terrible night... and now you’re putting this shit on me. Fuck my life."

Clyde stayed quiet, simply sitting there, letting the storm pass. He knew Darcy needed this. And he knew he was the one who had to listen.