CHAPTER 559: SWEATING THROUGH PROBABILITY 101

The moment the lecture began, Micah felt sweat gathering at the back of his neck. It wasn’t even hot in the classroom, quite the opposite. The autumn breeze seeping through the cracked windows made half the students hunch into their hoodies. But Micah? He was practically melting.

His unbandaged hand, with a visible wound that he had stupidly shown Emile earlier, pulsed like a neon sign screaming, ’Look at me! Inspect me! Discover my secret identity as Asena!’

Micah kept his gaze glued to the front, pretending to be absorbed in the professor’s monotone explanation of Statistics and probability, using some example about mass-producing a new fabric. His pen hovered over his notebook, never moving, because one twitch might expose his trembling fingers.

Such a rookie mistake! Why... WHY... had he shown Emile his injured hand like it was some badge of honour?!

How could he be this careless? The last thing he wanted was to be mocked by Emile!

He should have fled last Saturday. Should have run far, far away in the first place. Should not have engaged with the Du Pont trio! Shouldn’t have let them bandage his hand. Shouldn’t have been wandering around in the street...

In his head, Micah was banging his head against a wall repeatedly.

Why was he such an idiot?

Now here he was, sitting right beside Emile, the one person who could connect the dots with terrifying ease. Any moment now, Emile could put two and two together, whirl around, point at him and shout...

"I knew it! You are Asena!"

Micah kicked himself inwardly, cursing himself.

He tried to keep his expression neutral. He kept nodding at the professor at random intervals to look composed, even though he hadn’t heard a single word since the class started. He even pushed his glasses up his nose with an intellectual air.

Meanwhile, Emile sat slouched in his seat, long legs stretched out carelessly. He wasn’t listening at all. Why would he? The subject was irrelevant to him, a fine art major.

If only Micah knew what was actually inside Emile’s head.

He was wondering whether he should tell Micah about the rumour spreading in the La Riviere company or just let it be.

With what he had seen today, it was obvious Micah and Clyde’s relationship was complicated. Who in their right mind would tolerate a rival near their supposed lover like that? No sane man. Not unless they had the patience of a saint or were a cheating bastard!

And yet Clyde seemed totally fine with Darcy, a handsome man hovering over Micah like a lost puppy, having gotten this close to his partner and his family.

And then...There was Asena. The mysterious, beautiful, suspicious Asena.

Emile had always found it puzzling. Last time in the resort, when Jacklin had shown Micah the selfie she had gotten with Asena, Micah’s behaviour was too strange. He had not confronted little Uncle, but instead had run away, bolted like a startled squirrel.

So did Micah know about her? Was it okay to tell him about the rumour?

Emile chewed on his lip.

The lecture dragged on, each minute stretching into an eternity for Micah, who felt like someone sitting atop a landmine. At one point, he lifted his hand to wipe his forehead, but stopped because the scraped skin flashed, and he immediately lowered it, pretending he was actually stretching his shoulder.

The professor continued to teach. Students yawned. Someone behind them dropped a pen, and the clang made Micah flinch like he had been shot.

The suspense was unnerving.

Finally, the lecture hall erupted in the glorious sound of zipping bags and scraping chairs. Class was dismissed.

Micah sprang from his seat like a startled cat, ready to make a beeline for the exit, planning to escape under the excuse that Darcy was waiting for his breakfast.

He took one step... and a hand clamped around his arm.

Before he could protest or pretend he had other plans, Emile yanked him toward the door. "Come with me. I want to talk to you about something," he said with a serious voice.

Behind them, Russell, Melissa, and Amy reached out helplessly, their hands frozen mid-air. They were left behind in the classroom, bewildered, losing the chance to exchange a single word with Micah.

"What the heck?" Amy gasped, staring after them. "Who was that curly-haired boy? Why did he drag Micah away?"

Russell dropped his hand. "That’s Micah’s roommate."

"Oh!" Melissa smacked her fist into her palm. "Right! I remember! The whiny boy. The one who complained every day during the military training?"

Russell nodded. "Yeah. That’s him. I heard his family is super rich."

"As rich as Micah’s?" Amy asked.

Melissa blinked. "Huh? What do you mean? Micah’s family is wealthy?"

"Didn’t you see the forum post this morning?" Amy asked, fishing her phone, unlocking it with practised speed. "Look! Someone uploaded this, saying Micah is the heir of the Ramsy Empire."

She held out the screen. The headline practically screamed:

"FROSTY EXPOSED? Math Professor Elina Palmer is His Mother!"

The article was posted anonymously. About a certain support player who gained fame recently, called FrostbiteAshe. They said that he was Professor Elina Palmer’s son, the mathematics teacher and wife of Ramsy Empire CEO.

Melissa read it, eyes widening. "How do people even know this? Micah never told us."

"I saw Professor Palmer looking for Micah before," Russell said, tilting his head. "But I had no idea she was married to the Ramsy family."

"So it’s true?" Melissa whispered.

Amy nodded solemnly. "Yeah. There was even a photo of Micah at the Ramsy Empire lobby, but the admins took it down."

"Wow!" Melissa murmured. "Such a background, and he never acted snooty. Sure, sometimes he’s arrogant, but being the heir of such an influential family and still treating us normally, even being kind..."

"Mm," Amy hummed in agreement. "Exactly. He is not a jerk or snobbish prick. He is a decent guy."

Russell listened to them, his expression unreadable. He was indebted to Micah since the last time he helped with Ashley’s matter. Honestly, he never pegged Micah as an elite. His expression dimmed. His older brother’s chances of successfully chasing Micah were...pitiful. Narrow as a thread floating in a hurricane.

Russell exhaled heavily.

Did Archie know about this? Maybe he should tell him to give up.