From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 695: The Mile-High Misunderstanding (part one)

Inside the plane, in the quiet hum of the business-class cabin, the overhead lights were dimmed to a soft gold, casting a warm glow over the wide leather seats and polished armrests. Outside the oval windows, thick clouds stretched endlessly, pale and heavy like a frozen sea beneath the wings. The flight attendants moved gently down the aisle, their footsteps light against the carpet, their voices low and courteous. It was a calm scene, almost peaceful, the kind of environment meant to soothe travellers into comfort.

Yet for the small group seated together, the air felt heavier than it should have.

Flora adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders before turning slightly toward the two men seated across the aisle. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the fabric unconsciously, a subtle sign of the unease she tried to hide. She offered them a polite smile, the kind that carried both gratitude and worry.

"We didn’t impose on you, did we?" she asked gently. "I told Darcy that Nora and I could come by ourselves. There was really no need to trouble you both. You were on holiday too, weren’t you?"

Her voice was soft, refined, but there was sincerity in it. She truly did not want to inconvenience anyone, especially when they had only recently come into contact with her family.

Patric Harper straightened slightly in his seat, the seatbelt resting neatly across his suit. He smiled warmly, projecting reassurance with ease. "It’s not a problem at all, ma’am," he said politely. "We’re happy to help. Young master Micah and the Ramsy family have helped us more times than we can count. This is the least we could do."

Flora’s expression softened the moment she heard Micah’s name spoken with familiarity. A faint pride flickered in her eyes, though it was quickly tempered by a sigh.

"I don’t know what kind of mischief that boy wants to pull this time," she muttered, shaking her head slightly, though affection colored her tone. "He has never asked us for anything before. So even if the weather is freezing in Malayer City, I suppose I can humour him."

Her attempt at lightheartedness did not entirely hide the thin layer of concern beneath it.

Patric let out a small, awkward laugh. The sound came out softer than intended. He could feel the weight of what he knew pressing against his chest. His boss, Vice Director Willow Ramsy, had personally instructed him to bring Flora and Nora north as quickly and discreetly as possible. The urgency had not been exaggerated. But he could not tell her the real reason. He could not be the one to say that Micah had been in an accident and was unconscious. That he had undergone surgery. That for hours, his life had hung in uncertainty.

The guilt pricked at Patric’s conscience. He shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat to mask his discomfort.

Beside him, Ilyas sat quietly, far quieter than usual. A baseball cap was pulled low over his forehead, and a pair of dark sunglasses shielded his eyes despite the dim lighting inside the cabin. A black mask covered the lower half of his face. Only the bridge of his nose and a sliver of pale skin were visible.

He had become famous almost overnight. Faces turned when he walked through the streets now. Phones lifted. Whispers followed. He did not want to bring that attention to Flora and Nora. He did not want strangers crowding them, snapping photos, speculating, turning this trip into something loud and chaotic.

And more than that, he did not want to draw attention at a time like this. Underneath the disguise, his expression was shadowed with worry.

Why was Micah so unlucky?

First, the news of the switched baby scandal had exploded across the media, dragging his name through endless speculation. Then his grandmother had passed away, leaving grief still fresh and raw. And now this... an accident on a ski run, a head injury severe enough to require surgery.

Ilyas’s jaw tightened beneath the mask.

"Ilyas, here. Have something warm."

Patric’s voice cut gently through his thoughts. A steaming cup was placed in front of him, the rich scent of cocoa rising in warm curls of steam.

Ilyas accepted it with a small nod. He pulled down his mask just enough to take a careful sip. The marshmallow floating at the surface bobbed slightly, half-melted into a creamy swirl. The warmth spread through his chest, but it did little to ease the cold knot in his stomach.

Across from him, Nora had been staring at her phone for several minutes. Her fingers moved quickly across the screen, then paused. She lifted her gaze slowly, studying the young man seated across from her. From the moment she heard the name, a nagging feeling told her that he was really that actor.

The more she looked, the more certain she became. The jawline. The posture. Even the way he held the cup. Finally, curiosity won.

"You acted with my brother, right?" she asked suddenly, her voice hushed but brimming with anticipation.

Ilyas paused mid-sip. He lowered the cup and looked at her from behind his sunglasses. "You mean Young Master Micah?" he clarified.

Nora nodded eagerly.

"Yeah," he replied simply.

Her eyes lit up instantly, sparkling with excitement. "I knew it!" she whispered fiercely.

But Flora’s hand gently gripped her wrist.

"Sweetheart," she reminded softly, glancing around the cabin. "We’re on a plane."

Nora pressed her lips together, forcing herself to lower her voice. She leaned closer, barely containing her enthusiasm. "Oh my gosh! Why didn’t Big Brother tell me? My friend is such a huge fan of yours. Wait until she hears I was on a plane with her bias!"

Ilyas blinked slowly. "Young Master Micah didn’t tell you about me?" he asked.

"Huh? No, I meant Darcy," Nora corrected absentmindedly as she resumed typing on her phone.

Ilyas’s hand stilled around his cup. So she called Darcy Big Brother. What about Micah, then? Her biological brother? Why wasn’t she upset that he hadn’t told her? Were they not close?

He masked his confusion with another sip.

"Can I take a picture with you?" Nora asked hopefully.

Ilyas smiled faintly behind his mask. "Sure. After we land."

Her expression dimmed slightly at the delay, but Flora immediately intervened. "Don’t make trouble for him," she whispered gently. "What if someone recognises him? Then the whole plane will start pestering him."

Nora sighed but nodded obediently. "Alright. Thank you," she said quietly.