From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 710: The Cost of Picking a Fight You Can’t Win

Micah’s plan for touring the company was completely put on hold, though not by his own choice. By the time he finally woke up, the sky outside the tall windows had already gone dark, the faint glow of city lights blinking through the glass like distant stars. Whatever fun idea he had carefully planned earlier in the day had clearly been ruined beyond repair.

Lying groggily on the bed, Micah blinked several times, his lashes fluttering sluggishly as his brain struggled to catch up with reality. His thoughts were slow and foggy, drifting aimlessly for a moment. Where was he? The unfamiliar ceiling above him and a cool, refined scent lingered in the room, adding to his confusion.

Then he shifted slightly, trying to sit up and push himself off the mattress. That was the exact moment the pain hit him. His waist and inner thigh screamed in protest the instant he moved, sharp and merciless, like his muscles had declared open rebellion against him.

Micah cursed like a sailor who had just dropped a crate on his foot. "Fucking shit!" The words burst out of his mouth before he could stop them. Unfortunately, his voice came out hoarse and raspy, as if he had spent hours yelling like a lunatic at a concert. He grimaced and cursed again.

But this time the curse that came out of his mouth was definitely not suitable for any lady’s ears. In fact, if any respectable person had been nearby, they probably would have fainted on the spot from shock.

He dragged a hand slowly over his face, fingers pressing into his eyes as memories from a few hours earlier returned with brutal clarity. His face instantly burned like a beetroot. The heat crawled all the way from his ears down to his neck. He buried his face in his hands, trying desperately to calm himself down.

For the record, he wasn’t embarrassed by the intimacy itself. In fact, if he was being brutally honest with himself, he had actually enjoyed it far more than he would ever admit out loud. But that wasn’t the issue. The real problem, the thing that was currently killing him with embarrassment, was that he had fucking pleaded with Clyde to stop. Not just once, either. He had used every coaxing name he could think of, from "hubby" to "daddy," just to make Clyde let him go.

On another note, Micah was feeling deeply pathetic about the entire situation. During the whole ordeal, he had seen stars far more times than Clyde had. That fact alone bruised his pride beyond repair. What the hell was wrong with the man’s endurance anyway? This was not scientific at all. It was practically criminal.

If he hadn’t been glued to Clyde like gum for the whole time, Micah might have seriously believed the man had used some kind of cheat. Maybe a pill. Maybe one of those suspicious delayed sprays people whispered about online. Something unnatural had to be involved.

Micah shuddered involuntarily as he remembered the overwhelming intensity of it all. His entire body seemed to recall it with embarrassing clarity. Nope. Absolutely not. He was definitely better off steering clear of that situation for the time being. Carefully, he lowered one foot to the ground, only then noticing the oversized clothes hanging loosely on his body.

They weren’t just slightly bigger either. Everything was too large, pants, shirt, and even the underwear. The waistband sagged lazily against his hips like it had given up on life.

His lips twitched faintly as he tugged at the edge of the pants and peeked down at the underwear beneath. The sight made him look like a small kid who had decided to try on his father’s clothes for fun. What the hell was this humiliation?

Micah’s pride had taken far too many hits in just a single day. At this point, he was dangerously close to questioning whether fairness even existed in the entire world.

Why should Clyde be so much bigger than him? So much stronger? So much better in control and endurance? The unfairness of it all was practically a crime against humanity.

Clyde had been outright bullying him for who knows how long. And the worst part was that Micah had walked right into it like a fool.

The resentment slowly accumulated in his chest with every passing second as he dragged himself toward the bathroom. When he finally lifted his eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror, the feeling only intensified.

That jerk had not left a single place on his body untouched. There were obvious traces of love marks scattered everywhere, from his lips down to his neck and across his clavicle. Some were darker than others, like little stamps marking territory.

Micah’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared at himself. The more he looked, the more he regretted letting Clyde get away so easily earlier. He should have returned the favour more aggressively. Maybe bitten him back harder. Tsk! Micah clicked his tongue irritably.

He brushed his teeth and washed his face slowly. His mind immediately started plotting revenge. Micah was sure Clyde would look cocky, full of himself.

Ah... he absolutely hated that irritating smirk on Clyde’s face. That smug, satisfied expression made his blood pressure rise every single time he thought about it.

He looked at himself in the mirror for a few seconds longer before letting out a long sigh. Then he cursed quietly under his breath and walked toward the door, leaving the lounge area behind.

Outside, Clyde was sitting behind the desk, completely absorbed in reviewing a thick proposal document. Papers were neatly arranged around him, and the soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated his focused expression.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, Clyde immediately looked up. The moment he saw Micah standing there, his expression softened instantly, filled with unmistakable affection.

Micah’s own expression, on the other hand, could only be described as the pure embodiment of resentment. However, he quickly smoothed it away, hiding everything beneath an impassive mask.

Clyde stood up almost instantly and walked toward him with long strides. He reached out and grabbed Micah’s hand, his grip gentle but firm, worry written all over his face. "When did you wake up? Are you alright?"

Micah shot him a look that conveyed ten thousand emotions at once. If looks could speak, this one clearly said that Clyde had personally betrayed him in the worst possible way.

Clyde didn’t get offended at all. Instead, a warm smile slowly spread across his face, looking strangely pleased. "Are you hungry?" he asked casually. "Do you want to eat here or at home?"

The more Micah stared at that ridiculously happy, goofy smile on Clyde’s face, the darker his own expression became.

At that exact moment, he had a powerful urge to knee the man straight in the crotch and wipe that infuriating smile off his stupidly handsome face forever.

But the sad reality was that he still needed that particular body part if he wanted a happy life in the future. Ah, shit. Life was truly unfair.

Clyde waited patiently for Micah’s answer, but several seconds passed without receiving any reply. His smile slowly faded as he noticed the boy standing in front of him did not look pleased at all.

Clyde tried to suppress his refreshed mood and instead forced himself to appear more apologetic. It suddenly occurred to him that he might have hurt his wife’s self-esteem. He awkwardly scratched the bridge of his nose before clearing his throat. "You don’t have to feel bad about it. The more we do it, the easier it’ll get to last..."

Micah cut him off before he could finish. "Finish that sentence and see if you’re still standing after that," he said flatly. "And I mean that both literally and metaphorically." His gaze slowly drifted downward in a very meaningful way toward Clyde’s crotch.

Clyde immediately closed his mouth. Whatever he had been about to say died instantly. He stood there quietly like a well-behaved student who had just been scolded by the teacher.

Micah scoffed and waved his hand impatiently. "Get me clothes that actually fit! I’m not stepping outside wearing this shit!" he said, aggressively tugging at the loose fabric hanging from his body.

Clyde looked at him carefully. Personally, he thought Micah looked perfectly fine in his clothes, maybe even a little adorable. But he also understood that right now his opinion carried absolutely no value. So he simply nodded obediently. "I’ll ask my assistant."

He agreed far too quickly, clearly afraid of ruining Micah’s mood even further. While Clyde busied himself making arrangements, Micah quietly dropped his tough facade for a moment. In reality, every single part of his body felt sore and uncomfortable. Still, he refused to show even a hint of weakness.

Micah stubbornly convinced himself that the only reason he had ended up in such a miserable state was because of his previous accident. Otherwise, there was absolutely no way in hell he would have been defeated so easily earlier.

He nodded inwardly, completely certain that this explanation was the only logical reason.

By the time the new clothes finally arrived and Micah changed into them, most of the company employees had already gone home for the night.

The entire company building had grown eerily silent as they stepped into the elevator and slowly descended toward the ground floor.

After tasting such delicious "meat," even though they hadn’t gone through the full experience earlier, Clyde’s hands started itching to get a little handsy again. Unfortunately, one look at Micah’s clearly displeased expression told him that touching even a single finger would probably get him killed.

So instead, he hovered close behind Micah, watching carefully in case the boy suddenly stumbled while walking.

Thinking about it made him feel a little guilty. Micah still wasn’t fully healthy after his accident, and yet Clyde had clearly pushed him far too hard earlier.

They eventually returned to the penthouse. Clyde quietly placed the takeout food on the dinner table before glancing over at the still-unhappy boy. Deep down, he felt grateful that Micah had at least agreed to come home with him instead of demanding to be dropped off at the Ramsy mansion.

Micah’s expression gradually turned sour as he watched Clyde silently ignore him throughout the entire journey back. Typical men... once they finally tasted something and got what they wanted, they suddenly lost all interest in courting or coaxing. They would immediately turn cold and indifferent.

"Tsk..." He glared sharply at Clyde’s back, his eyes practically burning holes through the man.