Chapter 429: When the Boy Came Home with a Souvenir and Grandma Becomes Cerberus
Micah slowed as the villa came into view, his hair plastered to his forehead, skin damp with humidity. He turned slightly toward Clyde, who walked a step behind him. "I’ll go first. Get changed and come over," he said quickly, flashing a grin before jogging the rest of the way to the front entrance, leaving Clyde standing alone on the path.
Clyde lingered a moment, his eyes following the young man until the door closed behind him. A faint sigh escaped his lips before he turned toward his own villa next door.
He took a shower, washing the sand and the sweat from his skin. The warm water streamed down his broad shoulders and lean muscles, but even as the heat soothed him, his thoughts still circled around Micah. The memory of the boy’s hug, laughter, teasing, and then the feel of those lips, the warmth... all were etched deep into his mind.
He stilled, and his eyes lowered. With a sigh, he turned the tap from hot to cold and let the cool water wash over him.
When Clyde stepped out of the bathroom, he carried a chilled, composed air. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he strode toward the walk-in closet and pulled on loose black trousers, then buttoned up a crisp white shirt. He rolled the cuffs up to his forearms, the motion unhurried as if trying to gather control over himself.
His eyes met his own reflection in the mirror. That wild glint, the hunger, the restlessness had softened, dimmed after being with Micah. The boy had that effect on him, calming him without even realising.
It was a feeling he had never experienced before...That the young man accepted him without question, without demanding explanations made him content.
Micah sometimes showed maturity beyond his age. Clyde didn’t know whether it came from growing up being different from the rest of the Ramsy family, from coping with the truth of being switched, from Darcy’s steadying influence, or from something in their past lives. The more time they spent together, the more Micah shifted from the spoiled brat Clyde had once believed him to be into someone steadier and more mature.
Clyde’s fingers brushed the smooth wooden prayer beads hanging around his wrist. He tugged at them gently.
Meeting Darcy again would not be easy. Things had changed from before. Darcy had kissed Micah; the memory gnawed at Clyde more than he wanted to admit.
Worse, Clyde remembered too vividly the resentment Darcy had shown toward Micah in their first life. What if, in front of Micah, in front of his grandmother, he lost control, said something cruel, or worse, struck Darcy?
Clyde clenched his jaw. No, he couldn’t let that happen.
He knew he had to be on his best behaviour, tread carefully, and keep his composure, especially now, when Darcy was recognised as the real young master. But no amount of restraint could smooth the longing inside him, the desperate need to be near Micah, to remain at his side, no matter the cost. The desire burned hotter than jealousy.
He reached for a small bundle on the table, the few gifts he had prepared beforehand. Adjusting in his hands, he finally stepped outside.
*****
Micah burst through the villa’s front door, calling out immediately, "Grandma." His voice carried excitement.
From the living room, Zhou Ruyan turned her head, her expression warming as soon as she saw him. "Micah, you’re back."
Micah walked into the living room. "Mmm," he hummed. "Where is Darcy?"
"In his room. Come. Sit down." She gestured to the couch.
Micah plopped down without hesitation, bouncing slightly against the cushions.
"Are you in a better mood now that you two have had a good talk?" Zhou Ruyan asked, watching him carefully.
Micah pulled a face, nose scrunching up. "What good talk? He is just... stuck on this whole idea of not joining the Ramsy family. I don’t get it. I seriously don’t."
His tone carried genuine frustration.
Zhou Ruyan chuckled softly. "He has Ramsy blood in his veins, dear."
"Grandma!" Micah groaned, tossing his head back against the couch. "Don’t justify his stubbornness with that! He is just being stupid." His tongue clicked against his teeth.
She smiled knowingly. "He is looking after you in his own way. Don’t be too hard on him."
Micah froze for a second, then let out a whiny sigh, his lips pulling into a pout. "I know. That’s the problem! It makes it more frustrating. He’s so...Ugh!"
"He’ll come around eventually," Zhou Ruyan said calmly.
"I hope so..." Micah said, his eyes darting toward her, hesitant. "Grandma..."
Her brows lifted ever so slightly. "Hmm? What is it?"
"My friend’s gonna come over..." he began, his voice shifting from sulky to almost sheepish. "Can he stay here a few days with us?"
Zhou Ruyan’s gaze flicked to his neck. There was a faint but unmistakable mark on his neck, reddish, tender, a hickey that spoke louder than words. She didn’t comment on it, though. "Of course. This villa is large enough to house an army squad. One more won’t trouble us."
Micah’s face lit up, his grin quick and boyish. "Thanks, Grandma. You’re the best. I’m gonna shower. I got all sweaty playing Volleyball." He hopped up from the couch and walked upstairs.
Zhou Ruyan watched him go with spring in his steps and shook her head. The boy’s energy had clearly returned the moment Darcy arrived.
She was pleased with Darcy. The young man had put Micah first. He hadn’t demanded, hadn’t fought for his place; he had quietly chosen Micah’s well-being above all else. To Zhou Ruyan, that spoke louder than any grand gesture. It was enough for her to believe Darcy could be trusted.
But then her eyes darkened slightly, her thoughts turning toward that mysterious man Micah had mentioned. The one she had yet to meet.
She didn’t like the blatant marking on Micah’s neck. Like announcing he belonged to someone. To him.
Her fingers tapped against the armrest of her chair. Who was this man to dare stake a claim so openly on her grandson? Who was he to make Micah wait, to leave him needing, and suddenly appearing with such audacity? Declaring sovereignty?
Well, soon she would meet the man. And when she did, he would learn.
If he posed even the slightest threat to Micah, she would make sure he understood the cost of overstepping. He would learn that reaching Micah was not a simple matter. It would be no less arduous than Odysseus struggling through endless trials to return to Penelope, or Rostam braving seven deadly ordeals to free his king.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes sharp with resolve.
Hmph. Let him come. We’ll see if he has the quality and strength to be with Micah.