From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 226: Homemade Trouble

Chapter 226: Homemade Trouble

In the Du Pont mansion, the atmosphere was solemn. Afternoon light streamed through the tall arched windows, casting golden rays on the Persian rugs and polished floors, but no one was paying attention to the beautiful surroundings. All eyes were fixed on Emile’s phone.

Emile had just scrolled through his WeChat feed, casually sipping his fresh green juice, when he saw it. Micah’s latest post. A photo of a homemade cake, slightly uneven but charming, topped with a few strawberries that looked like they might tilt over. The caption?

RogueOverlord: 19th birthday, first homemade birthday cake! 😤 Haha! I’m officially the first to get one in the fam. Try calling me unpopular now, losers! 😎😏

He barked out a laugh, reading it. The moment he turned the screen to show the others what Micah had posted, he hadn’t expected this kind of reaction.

Jacklin snatched the phone from Emile’s hand with such force that he yelped. "Hey!"

But Jacklin wasn’t listening. Her brows furrowed deeply as she zoomed in on the picture, fingers moving like a special agent decrypting classified intel. Dean leaned in over her shoulder, practically crawling into the chair to get a better look.

"Who made that cake? Asena?" Jacklin shouted, horrified. "Don’t tell me she is really his girlfriend?"

"Shush!" Dean put his finger in front of his lips. "Calm down! Little Uncle will hear you," Dean said, looking toward the stairs.

Jacklin nodded, taking deep breaths. "Is there a possibility she is his girlfriend?" she whispered.

Emile paused for a moment, then he chimed in. "No. If she were, she would fight tooth and nail to clear that absurd rumour. You know, Micah was really upset about it. Wouldn’t she care to help?"

Jacklin exhaled, relaxing a little. "Yeah. You are right."

"Besides, he said in the family, didn’t he?" Dean asked, his tone low, focused. "So if our theory was right, it wouldn’t be Asena."

"No. But if she’s, like, the daughter of some housekeeper, technically, she isn’t family-family. Could still be her," Jacklin said, thoughtfully. "Might Asena be his childhood friend? No. If she were, she would’ve made a cake for him before now."

Jacklin rubbed her forehead. "Ah... This is bad. What if she really is with him?"

"You mean Micah took a girl to his place?" Emile asked, incredulous, eyebrows shooting up. His voice broke into a half-laugh. Like he couldn’t quite process the idea. "You know, he always argues with Eddie over how he is disrespectful to the girls? There is no way he does that. And honestly, how do you know it’s even his place? What if he was at a friend’s apartment?"

"Right. Friends," Dean nodded. "Emile, did Micah talk about his friends? Have you seen one?"

"Not really. It is always Darcy. Sometimes classmates stop by for him, like Russell from his major. But he never really mentioned his friends."

"So could this be Darcy’s place?" Dean said slowly.

Emile shook his head. "Doubt it. I heard Darcy has his own share of financial ordeals. Even now, he is on scholarship."

"Umm. Look at that counter! It’s obvious that it’s a granite stone. No way Darcy could afford that." Jacklin declared confidently.

"So who is it? Is it Micah’s place or not?" Emile asked.

No one could answer him. The cousins exchanged glances in dismay. Then, they all sighed loudly, feeling drained.

Dean’s brows furrowed deeper. "He said unpopular. Did he mean unpopular like... with girls?"

"This is driving me crazy!" Jacklin said, biting her nail. "What if it’s really Asena?"

The question dropped into the room like a stone. No one spoke. They all knew what that meant. If it were true, that would be really disastrous.

"Thank god little uncle can’t see this WeChat moment," Dean said after a few minutes of silence.

Jacklin slowly lifted her eyes to meet Dean’s, her voice tight. "Yeah. Think about it. The one you like had followed a boy to his place and made cake?"

"Shit!" Dean winced, muttering under his breath.

Emile’s fingers clutched the edge of the couch cushion. His head was spinning, trying to force the pieces together. Micah? With a girl? He couldn’t believe it.

Emile squinted at the photo and read the caption again. Nope. It appeared the most logical one was just that.

Who else could it be?

Darcy? No. No way. That guy in the engineering department with his head full of numbers, baking?!

Emile tilted his head, thoughtful.

****

Upstairs, far from the chattering group, the master bedroom was silent. Clyde sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair. The lights were off and the curtains were only half-drawn.

His phone lay on the floor by his feet, screen dark, but he didn’t need to look again. He had already seen it.

Micah’s post.

The words had punched him out of the blue. It hit harder than he thought it would. He had spent days wondering what to give to Micah. In the end, he had decided to make a small cake, nothing big, nothing expensive, nothing too heavy to show his feelings. He was going to tease Micah after the banquet, say something like, ’Heard this was for your birthday. What, no invite for me?’ he pretended to be offended, making him mad. Then give him the cake.

But now, someone else had beaten him to it. freew\ebno\vel..(c)om

Clyde let out a breath that came out shaky, hollow, his shoulders tensing as if trying to hold something back. His hands clenched tightly, nails biting into his palm before dragging over his face.

He buried his face into his palms, his elbows digging into his thighs. He wasn’t angry, not exactly. And not jealous, not like he was in the factory. No, what he felt was worse. An ache that hollowed him out, sharp and quiet. Like he had been left out of something precious. Disappointment, sadness, and uselessness filled his heart.

Clyde reached out and touched the wooden player beads on his wrist. His fingers moved instinctively, searching for that lock of tangled hair he kept, the only thing he had from Micah.