CHAPTER 266: IF HE BLEEDS, YOU PAY

There was a deep silence in the hospital hallway. The kind that made every fluorescent light buzz seem louder than it should, every shuffle of shoes echo a little too much. The air felt cold and sterile, heavy with unspoken tension.

Clyde turned slowly, his gaze sharp and unreadable. He stood with his hands in his pants pockets, chin slightly tilted, one brow raised as he stared down at Darcy.

"You still haven’t answered me," he said evenly. "Why were you following me?"

Darcy met his cold eyes, pushing aside the uneasiness in his gut. Now, it wasn’t the time to wallow in the sense of inferiority that this man always stirred in him. He bit inside his cheek. "It’s about Micah..." he said, voice guarded. His voice carried something underneath, concern and confusion. "His behaviour...it is a bit strange when it comes to my mum’s illness."

"How come?"

"He knows too much," Darcy replied. "Too many details. More than a normal person should. It’s unsettling."

Darcy hesitated. He shifted his weight between his feet. "He just... knew what to ask the doctors. What symptoms to focus on, what outcome does medicine have? And he understands the treatment plans, even suggests one to the doctor... He shouldn’t know all that unless..." he trailed off, and his brow furrowed in frustration. "So, do you know the reason?" Darcy asked, eyes snapping back to Clyde.

Clyde’s pupils dilated for a brief second. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. Then his expression returned to cool indifference.

"No. From what I know, there is no one with MS in his family. And the last time he asked me for a favour..." He paused. His lips curled slightly. "He said he did it for you."

Darcy was stunned. "But why? He has known me and my family for, what, less than two months..."

"Yeah. Exactly..."Clyde replied dryly, almost spitting the words out. "Why?"

Darcy looked away. He couldn’t come up with a plausible answer. Even though he knew Micah was kind, he saw him as a friend, but this matter, searching thoroughly about his mum’s illness, was not something a normal person would do. He wasn’t that delusional to think Micah was obsessed with him or wanted to control him.

"I wanted to ask you..." Clyde said suddenly, voice low. "Do you know what price Micah paid? For your mum to be here? For her to cut ties with the Durant family?"

"What?" Darcy blinked.

Clyde laughed, short, bitter, and humourless. He ran a hand through his combed hair.

"Hah! I knew it. You really have no idea, do you?"

Darcy’s jaw tightened. His glare snapped up, sharp and defensive.

"Do you know how powerful families work?" Clyde asked, his voice ice cold. "Why would his grandfather, Albert Ramsy, of all people, step forward to help you? A nobody? Have you even thought about what Micah might have to give up to make that happen?"

Darcy didn’t reply, but his confused face spoke volumes.

"You think the Ramsy family is like an ordinary one?" Clyde went on, stepping closer. His voice was full of suppressed fury. "That the grandfather just going to do whatever grandchildren ask for? You are more naive than I thought."

Darcy took a step back. The hallway suddenly felt smaller.

"Why should Albert Ramsy, that sly tycoon, meddle in your mess? What benefit did it bring them?" Clyde demanded. "You know the Francis family, right? They’re Silas Durant’s maternal family. They aren’t some ants to squash under your heel. The Francis family is one of the oldest in Isatis City. They have more connections than the Ramsy family. Hell, even Du Ponts never clash with them unless there’s no other choice."

Clyde stepped forward again, forcing Darcy to retreat until his back hit the wall.

"So tell me," Clyde hissed. "Why did Albert Ramsy get involved? Surely Micah should have promised him something. Maybe forfeiting his successor’s right? His shares in the family business? Do you have any idea how bad his situation is within the Ramsy family?"

Darcy swallowed, throat dry. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure Clyde could hear it.

"What you heard last night," Clyde said, "was just the tip of the iceberg! You don’t know half of it."

Clyde lowered his head and whispered into Darcy’s ear. "Did you tell Micah the real reason why that doctor manipulated you? Targeted you? That he wanted to fuck you?"

Darcy’s pupils dilated. He stiffened like a block of ice. He felt a rush of cold panic race down his spine.

"You didn’t, did you?" Clyde said, stepping back just an inch to watch his reaction.

Clyde scoffed bitterly. "Ha. Of course you didn’t. You put him in a blind spot. You let him stand between you and a monster without telling him how dangerous it really was."

Darcy’s breath came fast now. He could barely look at Clyde.

"What if that doctor goes after Micah?" Clyde snapped. "With the same disgusting thoughts? What then?"

Darcy’s fingers twitched at his side. His legs felt weak, like they might give out under him.

"So you better watch yourself," Clyde growled. "Because if I find out Micah ended up on that bastard’s radar because of you, or if what he paid to help you ends up costing him more than you can imagine..," he paused.

"I’ll make sure you cough up every last bit of it. I’ll drag it out of you piece by piece and make sure you never see the light again."

Clyde straightened his back, brushing dust off his jacket. His expression was cold, precise. "Remember what I said," he warned. "If you put Micah in danger... or anywhere unfavourable, I will not hesitate. I’ll erase you."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Darcy stood frozen in place. He felt cold sweat trickling down his back, soaking into his shirt. His legs trembled slightly, his mouth dry.

But it wasn’t just fear that gripped him. It was something worse, guilt. A dull, aching weight that curled deep in his chest.

Every word Clyde said, every accusation, every warning, cut like a blade across his ribs. Because...

If what Clyde said was true... then Micah had risked everything. All for him.

Could Silas really go after Micah? He shivered. The thought made him nauseous.

He remembered those eyes, calculating, sharp and cold.

Darcy had told himself that leaving Queen’s hospital was enough. That once Silas couldn’t see him anymore, it’d be over.

Of course, he had sensed something was amiss with him. But he just endured it. He couldn’t do anything about it. His mother’s health was in his hands. But he knew what those eyes meant when Silas looked at him.

He was wrong. Even coming here had a price.

Micah... Why? Why would he go this far... for him?

Darcy pressed his forehead to the cold wall of the hospital, trying to steady his thoughts.

How could Micah be so stupidly kind? So recklessly selfless?

Did he really deserve it?

Darcy felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders, crushing him.

Clyde was right. He was naive. He thought that by escaping, he could be free. But the Francis family... if what Clyde said was true... then he had really put Micah in danger.

Darcy slid down the wall onto the floor. He curled forward, head pressed to his knees, breath ragged.

And what did Clyde mean about Micah’s standing in the Ramsy family?

Was it why no one ever mentioned him as Professor Palmer’s son? Or as Ramsy’s heir?

Was Micah unwanted? An outsider within his own family? So his grandmother was the only person on his side? Was that why he said he hated banquets? Was it why he didn’t want Darcy to go to the birthday banquet?

Darcy felt his chest tighten.