From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 668: Bitten By a Cat

Clyde had not stopped moving since morning.

From the moment he stepped into the office, the day had unfolded like an unbroken chain of meetings, documents, negotiations, and calls, packed so tightly that even the spaces between tasks felt occupied. His schedule had been packed to the point of suffocation, back-to-back briefings with department heads, a tense video conference that stretched longer than intended, and several contracts that required his personal review.

By the time noon arrived, Clyde had not truly registered hunger. His lunch hour, if it could be called that, was spent seated across from representatives of an international corporation, discussing business cooperation and long-term projections over meticulously plated food. The restaurant was upscale and quiet, the kind of place where the clink of cutlery sounded loud and deliberate, where every waiter moved as if choreographed. The atmosphere was polished, restrained, much like Clyde himself.

He sat straight-backed, one hand resting near his glass of water, the other occasionally moving to gesture when necessary. His expression remained composed throughout the discussion, eyes sharp, voice measured, each word chosen with care. When the conversation finally concluded, agreements tentatively reached and formalities exchanged, Clyde rose smoothly from his chair.

The foreign president of the company in the collaboration stood as well, smiling broadly as he extended his hand. Clyde accepted it, his grip firm and steady. The handshake lingered for a brief moment, and just as Clyde was about to withdraw and take his leave, the man’s gaze flicked upward.

His expression shifted.

The man tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in concern as he gestured toward Clyde’s ear. "President Du Pont," he said, his tone cautious, "what happened there? Is it an allergic reaction?"

He looked genuinely worried, his brows drawing together. After all, this meeting had been arranged by his company. The venue, the catering, even the ingredients had been vetted multiple times. The last thing he wanted was for something to go wrong under his watch, especially not an incident involving a man as influential as Clyde Du Pont. A reaction severe enough to leave marks could spell trouble, and the responsibility would inevitably fall back on him.

Clyde paused. He lifted his hand and touched his ear lightly, fingers brushing over the faint tenderness there. The skin was still a little warm, the mark not entirely faded. He felt it, remembered it, and before he could stop himself, the corner of his mouth curved upward.

"No," Clyde said calmly, a small smile appearing on his lips. "It’s nothing like that. The cat at home has just been a bit playful."

The words left his mouth easily, naturally. As he spoke, his expression softened in a way that felt almost unreal. His eyes lost their sharp edge, his voice lowered, warmed, filled with an unmistakable indulgence. It was full of fondness, patience, and faint amusement.

The man froze. For a brief moment, he simply stared at Clyde, as if he had misheard him. The contrast was... jarring. Clyde Du Pont was known in business circles as cold, distant, and unyielding. He was decisive, ruthless when necessary, a man who did not let personal sentiment bleed into professional spaces. To hear him speak like this...so gentle, so indulgent...about something as mundane as a cat?

The man felt oddly disoriented. "It seems President Du Pont is very fond of his cat," he said at last, laughing awkwardly, unsure how else to respond.

Clyde nodded without hesitation. "Indeed," he replied. "And he knows it. He takes advantage of it all the time."

The man blinked, then chuckled, clearly trying to recover. "My daughter also has a cat," he said, seizing onto the topic. "What kind is yours? Hers is a Ragdoll... very sweet, very friendly."

Clyde’s smile deepened almost imperceptibly as Micah’s face surfaced in his mind. The defiant tilt of his chin. The way his eyes gleamed when he knew he was pushing boundaries. The sharp bite that had left its mark, followed by that infuriatingly innocent smile.

"I’m not entirely sure," Clyde admitted. "He was a stray before I adopted him."

"Oh, then probably a mixed breed," the man said easily, nodding. "With cats, you really need to set ground rules early. Otherwise, they just get bolder and bolder."

He launched into an enthusiastic explanation, offering unsolicited advice on how to raise a cat properly: feeding schedules, discipline, and how to assert authority without being cruel. His voice filled the space, words tumbling over one another as he spoke from experience.

Clyde listened without interrupting him.

As the man rambled on, Clyde found himself making silent comparisons. The behaviour described, testing limits, pushing boundaries, acting out when indulged too much, sounded eerily familiar. Almost every point mirrored Micah’s troublemaker nature. The thought amused him, even as it made his ear throb faintly.

Well. It wasn’t as if he would ever tell Micah any of this.

The young man would likely scratch him again out of sheer spite.

When the conversation finally drew to a close, Clyde offered polite farewells and left the restaurant. The autumn air outside was crisp, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves and distant traffic. He slid into the back seat of his car, the door closing with a solid thud that sealed him into the familiar quiet.

The assistant in the front seat hesitated, glancing at Clyde through the rearview mirror.

"What is it?" Clyde asked, already turning his attention back to the tablet in his hands.

"Boss..." the assistant began carefully. "One of the people we’re monitoring has been spotted around the campus. Should we interfere?"

Clyde’s fingers paused. "Archie Norris?" he asked.

"Yes," the assistant nodded. "That one. But his little brother is with Madam, so we’re not sure if we should act."

Clyde’s gaze lifted.

Madam.

The title settled into his thoughts, strangely pleasant. Micah as Madam of the Du Pont family. The idea amused him more than it should have. He could already imagine Micah’s reaction if he heard it... outrage, denial, followed by reluctant acceptance.

He should tease him about it later.

"Leave him alone if Darcy is with Micah," Clyde said calmly.

"Yes, sir."

As the car pulled away, Clyde’s good mood slowly began to sink. Archie’s presence stirred memories he would rather forget... memories of the past, of complications and dangers that had never truly been resolved.

"If Micah is alone," Clyde added after a pause, his voice turning cold, "and he approachs him, bring him to me."

The assistant nodded again.

Clyde leaned back against the seat, exhaling quietly. He doubted Archie would be foolish enough to bring up the past in public, not with Darcy or Russell around. Still, the thought of Archie anywhere near Micah made his jaw tighten.

He wished, fleetingly, that he could simply hide Micah away in his home, shield him from all the annoying flies buzzing around his life.

But that wasn’t the solution.

The solution was to deal with those four men properly. To put them back in their places. To make it clear they had no right to barge into Micah’s world... especially now.

His anxiety coiled tighter in his chest. "Go to the campus," Clyde ordered.