CHAPTER 349: PITY OR LOVE?

In front of Clyde stood Dean and Jacklin, their expressions grim, shoulders stiff as if bracing for a blow. The air inside the study was thick and heavy.

"Little Uncle, just tell us the truth. You are only pitying him, right?" Jacklin said at last, her voice carrying both hesitation and determination. Her fingers twisted together in front of her, betraying her nerves despite her bold words.

Dean nodded beside her, jaw clenched. "You aren’t really interested in Emile’s friend, are you? You are just helping him get a foothold in the Ramsy family, right? Bringing him into the old mansion, donating the library and lab to QC university so the rule could be changed... Don’t you see you are favouring him too much? In other people’s eyes, it might look very different."

"What about Asena then?" Jacklin added. "Wouldn’t she mistake your kindness to him for something else?"

Clyde tapped his fingers against the desk. His gaze sharpened on them, a storm brewing in his eyes. "Are you really that dense?"

Both flinched.

"Or are you just stubborn?" Clyde continued. "Emile easily accepted it. But you two..." He halted his words, staring at them.

"It’s not that we have a beef with him or something..." Jacklin said quickly, her hands tightening into fists. "It’s just sudden, and you were so invested in Asena."

Clyde’s mouth curled into something between a smirk and a scoff. "First of all, when was I ever hung up on her? It was all in your head. Second, don’t be so quick to judge. It might not be what you think at all."

"So, are you really... going to be with him?" Dean asked finally. "There would be an uproar. And what if he is just using you?"

Clyde sighed, his eyes softening for a moment. "Dean, you are the next heir of the Du Pont family. Micah isn’t trying to inherit La Riviere. No one is competing with you."

"That’s not what I meant!" Dean shouted. He took a step forward, eyes flashing. "I am just worried. He is too impulsive, immature, and..."

"Enough!" Clyde barked, trying to restrain his emotions. "You had no problem when it was Asena, a girl of his age. But now you do with him?"

"Tell me," Clyde pressed, his voice quieter now, but deadly cold. "Do you really dislike him for who he is, or just because he is a man? Do you want me to be like your grandfather? Marrying a woman and ruining her life?"

Dean and Jacklin lowered their heads, unable to meet his eyes.

"Do you know why, despite reporting it to your parents, they didn’t meddle in my affair?" Clyde asked.

He rose from his chair slowly, the beads on his wrist sliding and clicking together with the movement. He stepped out from behind the desk and walked toward them.

Clyde stood in front of them. "Because they didn’t want that disaster to repeat again. They are terrified of the madness running in my blood. If they deny what I want... what if history repeats itself?" His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Your grandmother... hah." He let out a humourless laugh. "How many women in this world would go to such extremes, out of both hate and love? Wasn’t it because the two men she ever loved in her life turned out to be in love with each other instead?"

Jacklin’s breath caught in her throat, eyes widening slightly.

"The three of them had completely gone mad, doing those unbelievable deeds. Do you fear that I will become like one of them? Mad like my mother? Or a cowardly, cheating fool like my biological father? Or an obsessive abuser, moulded by the environment of my adopted father, your grandfather?" His gaze swept over them, sharp and accusing. "Is that why you are against it? Because you fear I’ll become like them if I chase a man?"

Clyde’s words were like a hammer, shattering their hearts. Dean and Jacklin had never thought like that. Never thought their unspoken resistance might echo the same distrust that haunted Clyde’s past.

But could they deny it on their parents’ behalf? The distance they maintained all these years from Clyde, their little brother, what else could it mean? Clyde had changed tremendously after that trauma. He was the only one growing up with a crazed father. There were too many reasons to fear that Clyde might turn out different from them.

"Uncle... if we thought like them, we wouldn’t be here. We would have left with them, not stayed by your side." Dean said, voice trembling. "I can see now how much he means to you. I was worried he would see it as a passing, meaningless relationship, that he’d hurt you. I’m sorry if our words came out insensitive."

Jacklin nodded, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

Clyde snapped the wooden prayer beads on his wrist. He had lost control. Something that never happened since he had been granted these beads to steady himself. But when it came to Micah, he couldn’t stand it. The violent emotions inside him swept away every rationality he had. Especially when he was far from Micah. Fortunately, he could see him tonight.

Clyde walked toward the window, his back rigid, his hands clasped behind him as he stared out into the window. "I understand," he said flatly. "You can leave now."

Dean glanced at the lonely figure framed by the tall window. His uncle’s back looked unbearably fragile, hunched beneath the weight of the past. With a tight jaw, Dean placed a hand on Jacklin’s arm, guiding her toward the door in silence.

The past generation’s deeds had left a deep scar on Clyde. And that was why they were against Micah, an arrogant, incompetent boy, to be with him. They had seen firsthand at the condo how Micah threw a tantrum, forcing their uncle to yield. And what made them wary was how Clyde had been affected these past few days. They could hear sounds every night from his bedroom, everything from shouting, to begging, to shattering furniture. They were scared.

And finally today, they had stepped forward, wanting to know the truth, to warn their uncle, to let him see the danger, but the result...

Dean closed the door to the study and sighed. "We messed up," he whispered, voice thick with regret.

"Yeah. We were too focused on Micah’s trouble-making acts and missed the deeper reason why Little Uncle had let him run wild." Jacklin whispered back.

Dean nodded, raking a hand through his hair. "He is more scared than us."

Jacklin’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing with determination. "Then...Let’s support his decision. Even though I don’t like him much... I want little uncle to be happy."

"If we stick close, we can manage that boy from going astray," Dean added.

"Lucky Emile. He doesn’t know the half of it. So, of course, he can support Micah easily." Jacklin chuckled bitterly.

The cousins exchanged a look, one of shared regret and reluctant resolve. Their little Uncle just had them as family, no one else.