From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 733: Micah Was Not Amused

High above the floor where Darcy remained unaware of everything unfolding, inside the quiet isolation of the penthouse, Micah had already dragged Clyde into the master bedroom and stripped him down with very little patience and even less restraint. The entire process had been inconvenient, exhausting, and far more difficult than Micah had expected, especially considering that Clyde, despite appearing completely unresponsive, was still a full-grown man with considerable weight and an annoyingly sturdy build.

The seed of suspicion that had taken root in Micah’s mind refused to quiet itself. It had only grown stronger with every passing moment. Something about Clyde’s lack of bodyguards did not sit right with him. That thought alone was enough to irritate Micah to no end.

He had tried subtle methods at first. A push here. A light shake there. Even a few deliberately annoying prods aimed at sensitive spots. When those failed to provoke any sort of reaction, he escalated to poking and tickling, his fingers pressing into places that would normally draw at least a reflexive response. Yet Clyde remained still, his body slack against the mattress, his breathing even, his expression undisturbed.

That stillness only made Micah more certain that something was wrong. Shouldn’t he grunt? Smack his hand away? What was with this unresponsive block of wood? At the very least Micah knew Clyde was not a deep sleeper. So what was wrong with him? Was he drugged or something?

The irritation that had briefly subsided in the car returned in full force, burning through his chest with renewed intensity. His earlier anger resurfaced as if it had never truly left, fueled now by the suspicion that either Clyde had been playing him for a fool from the very beginning or had got himself drugged. The thought alone was enough to make Micah’s jaw tighten.

He had not handled Clyde gently, not even once.

The idea of someone else approaching Clyde, speaking to him, or worse, laying their hands on him while he pretended to be helpless made Micah’s stomach twist with a possessive fury that he refused to acknowledge out loud. Even if Clyde’s actions had been intended to provoke jealousy, even if this entire situation had been some elaborate attempt to get a reaction out of him, Micah found that he could not accept it. Not even a little.

Now Clyde lay sprawled across the bed, dressed in nothing but his underwear, his limbs loose, his presence infuriatingly calm.

Micah stood at the side of the bed, watching him closely, his gaze sharp and calculating, as if studying a problem that refused to yield.

His hazel eyes flickered with a glint of mischief.

Still pretending? Huh!

The corner of his lips curled upward in a way that promised trouble.

Without saying a word, Micah turned and walked toward the bathroom, returning shortly after with a towel that he had thoroughly soaked in cold water. The fabric dripped faintly, leaving a thin trail of droplets behind as he approached the bed again.

He did not hesitate.

The towel came down against Clyde’s skin, cold and foreign, and Micah began wiping him down with deliberate slowness, his movements careful but firm, as though he were testing each inch of the man’s body for signs of life.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, almost imperceptibly, the muscle beneath the towel twitched.

Micah’s smirk deepened. There it was. His suspicion sharpened into certainty.

His hand continued downward, unhurried and precise, until it reached the edge of Clyde’s underwear. He paused there, his fingers resting lightly against the fabric, his eyes lifting to study Clyde’s face once more.

Still nothing. No reaction. No movement. No sign of awareness.

Micah let out a quiet, amused breath.

"Fine," he murmured under his breath, as though accepting a challenge that had just been issued to him.

He straightened up and returned to the bathroom once again, this time ensuring that the towel was thoroughly drenched in water that was even colder than before. When he came back, there was no hesitation left in his movements.

In one swift motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Clyde’s underwear, tugged it just enough to expose sensitive skin, and then brought the icy towel down with a sharp, deliberate slap.

The reaction was immediate.

Clyde’s entire body jolted as though struck by lightning, his eyes snapping open in shock, his composure shattering in an instant.

Micah stepped back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at him with unmistakable satisfaction.

"Awake now?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery.

Clyde quickly pulled the towel away, his movements slightly clumsy as he adjusted his underwear, his gaze deliberately avoiding Micah’s face.

That avoidance did not go unnoticed.

Micah tilted his head, his expression shifting into something sharper, more pointed.

"What is it?" he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Feeling guilty now? Or were you enjoying messing with me?"

Clyde lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at it as though trying to gather his thoughts, yet no explanation came. The truth lingered in the air between them, unspoken but obvious.

He had not been completely out of it. But he had played along.

The memory of how it had all unfolded surfaced in his mind whether he wanted it to or not.

Mason had been the first to act, quickly dialling Micah’s number the moment Clyde appeared unresponsive. The instant the call connected, he had slipped the phone into Clyde’s pocket, setting the stage before stepping back and pretending to be nothing more than a concerned stranger.

Everything had been carefully orchestrated.

Not even a moment had passed before someone had attempted to approach Clyde, drawn in by his apparent vulnerability. Mason, however, had intervened immediately, ensuring that no one actually managed to touch him. A subtle signal from Lin Heye had prompted Micah’s involvement, and within seconds, the situation had been cleared.

Everyone had retreated the moment Micah arrived, disappearing into the background as though they had never been there at all.

Clyde had seen everything. Every glance. Every movement. Every carefully planned step. And yet, none of that had bothered him as much as what came next.

Micah had not reacted the way he expected.

Instead of showing even the slightest hint of possessiveness, instead of driving people away with cold hostility, Micah had spoken calmly. Casually. He had even praised the young man who had approached him, treating the situation as though it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

That moment had struck deeper than Clyde cared to admit. His mood had plummeted instantly, sinking into something dark and unpleasant. So he had continued the act.

He had remained still, pretending to be completely unconscious, even as jealousy twisted uncomfortably inside his chest.

He should have known better. Anything involving those four idiots called his friends was bound to backfire eventually.

And now, here he was. Caught.

Micah’s foot nudged against his leg, snapping him back to the present.

"Go take a shower," Micah ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You reek."

Clyde did not protest.

He simply got up and made his way toward the bathroom, his steps slightly unsteady, betraying the fact that he was not entirely sober despite everything.

Behind him, Micah moved quickly, stripping the damp sheets from the bed and replacing them with clean ones, his movements efficient and practised. By the time Clyde returned, the room looked as though nothing had happened at all.

Micah sat on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed yet undeniably commanding.

His gaze lifted as Clyde stepped out.

"Sober now?" he asked, his tone edged with quiet amusement.

Clyde lowered his head, avoiding eye contact once again. The bathrobe draped loosely around him, his damp hair clinging slightly to his forehead.

Micah studied him for a moment before letting out a soft, almost incredulous laugh.

"You are not even going to apologise?" he pressed. "What is this? Are you proud of yourself?"

Clyde shook his head quickly, then again in a different direction, as though unsure how to properly respond, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and embarrassment.

Micah watched him carefully. This was not the Clyde he was used to.

The man in front of him seemed slower, less precise, his reactions dulled in a way that felt unfamiliar. For a brief moment, doubt crept back in again.

Maybe he was not entirely pretending. Maybe there was some truth to his condition after all.

That thought sparked unexpected curiosity in Micah. He had never seen Clyde like this before.

Clyde, who was always composed, always calculating, always one step ahead. Clyde, who knew exactly how to turn every situation to his advantage, leaving Micah as the one who struggled to keep up.

Micah had long since accepted that he could not outmaneuver him. That he would always be the one at a disadvantage. And yet, right now, that balance had shifted. The opportunity in front of him was rare. Too rare to waste.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

"Come here," he said, his voice low, laced with something unreadable.

Clyde hesitated for a brief second before stepping forward, stopping directly in front of him.

Micah leaned back slightly, tilting his head as he looked up at him, his hands braced behind him against the bed.

"You are too tall," he muttered, a hint of annoyance slipping into his tone. "Sit down."

Without protest, Clyde lowered himself, kneeling in front of him.

Micah raised an eyebrow.

Whether this obedience was genuine or part of another act did not matter. He would milk this big cow to the fullest, enjoying it to his heart’s content. After all, opportunities like this did not come often.

And if he were being completely honest with himself, beneath all the irritation and frustration, there was something else lingering quietly within him.

Something he had been avoiding. He had missed this.

Missed the closeness. Missed the tension. Missed the way Clyde’s presence filled the space around him in a way no one else ever could. His running away was exactly as he said to Darcy. Afraid of what he might do with Clyde...