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

Chapter 761: Breaking Into Your Enemies’ Meeting Like a Boss (part two)

Darcy’s gaze moved slowly from one face to another, lingering just long enough to make the tension turn suffocating. There was no attempt to hide the disgust that surfaced in his expression. If anything, it grew more apparent with every passing second, until it twisted into something sharp and unbearable.

He let out a quiet, humourless scoff, his upper lip curling slightly as though the mere sight of them offended him on a fundamental level.

"What were you trying to pull involving Ilyas?" he asked, his voice low but cutting, each word edged with restrained fury. "Were you hoping to gain favour by pretending to help Micah? Is that it? Trying to score some cheap brownie points?"

The accusation landed heavily in the room.

Leo blinked, clearly caught off guard, his brows knitting together in confusion as he struggled to follow the direction of Darcy’s anger. "Huh? What are you even talking about?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

Darcy’s eyes narrowed almost immediately, irritation flashing across his face as though Leo’s confusion only confirmed his suspicions.

"What?" Darcy shot back sharply. "Don’t tell me you were just helping out of goodwill? Didn’t you have a meeting right before that incident? You expect me to believe you are all innocent?"

Leo lifted a hand to his forehead, rubbing it as though trying to physically ease the growing headache forming behind his eyes."No," he said, his tone strained but firm. "You have completely misunderstood the situation. We had nothing to do with that."

Darcy’s expression darkened further, his patience thinning with every word that left Leo’s mouth. "Really?" he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then explain why you were so quick to show up at the hospital. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you conveniently got involved with Nabil Lobart’s demise. That has always been your style, hasn’t it? Manipulation, calculation, doing whatever it takes to gain favour when it suits you."

"Damn it!" Archie suddenly snapped, his composure breaking under the weight of the accusations. "We already told you we were not involved! That actor’s stalker situation has absolutely nothing to do with us!"

The frustration in his voice was raw, but it did little to ease the tension.

Before Darcy could respond, a quiet chuckle echoed through the room.

Aidan leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed in stark contrast to the others, a faint smirk playing on his lips as though he found the entire situation amusing.

"You have been monitoring us, haven’t you?" Aidan said, his tone almost conversational. "You, of all people, should know better than anyone else that we were not involved."

His gaze locked onto Darcy’s, the smirk deepening ever so slightly.

The provocation was obvious. Deliberate.

Darcy’s fists clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his arms tensing as he struggled to maintain control. He knew exactly what Aidan was doing. Every word, every look, every subtle inflection was designed to get under his skin. To push him. To provoke a reaction.

Darcy let out a short, sharp snort, though it carried no real amusement. "As if I would ever allow people like you to roam freely anywhere near Micah," he replied coldly.

Leo looked between them, his expression growing increasingly horrified as the situation spiralled further out of control.

"Stop it, Aidan!" he said urgently. "This was never part of our deal!"

Aidan straightened, rising to his feet with an air of arrogance that immediately shifted the atmosphere once again.

"Allow me to refresh your memory," he said, his tone sharp and unapologetic. "I never agreed to your ridiculous plan in the first place. Why would I willingly hand everything over to him?" His eyes flicked briefly toward Darcy before returning to the others. "I was a victim in all of this as well."

The sentence had not even fully left his mouth when Darcy moved. The sound of the punch echoed sharply through the room.

Aidan’s head snapped to the side as the force of the impact sent him staggering backward.

"Shut up!" Darcy’s voice exploded, no longer restrained, no longer controlled. "A victim? You?" A harsh, disbelieving laugh followed. "Don’t make me laugh!"

Another punch landed. And then another.

Each strike carried more force than the last, driven by something far deeper than the present moment.

"When you were breaking my leg..." Darcy’s voice came out hoarse, uneven, as though dragged from somewhere buried deep within him. "When you were threatening my little sister..."

Another blow. "Tell me, how were you the victim?!"

The room seemed to blur. Darcy’s vision tunnelled, his awareness narrowing until nothing else existed beyond the target in front of him. The past surged forward, overwhelming, relentless.

Those memories, the pain, the helplessness, the humiliation, crashed into him all at once, drowning out everything else.

He could not see. He could not hear.

All he knew was the rage burning through him, consuming every rational thought, every restraint he had once clung to. The sound of impact repeated again and again, each one louder than the last in his mind. His ears rang violently, a high-pitched noise drowning out the world around him.

Somewhere, distantly, there were voices. Shouting. Trying to stop him.

Hands reached for him, attempting to pull him back, but they were nothing more than obstacles, brushed aside with overwhelming force. It was as though something inside him had snapped completely.

Then... Suddenly... Everything shifted.

A strong force pulled him backward. The motion was abrupt enough to break through the haze, causing him to stumble.

His back collided with something solid. Warm. A body.

"Stop... please... you are going to kill him..." The voice came close to his ear, trembling, desperate. Familiar.

Darcy blinked. Once. Twice. The red haze clouding his vision began to recede, slowly, painfully, as though reality itself was forcing its way back in.

His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to regain control.

His gaze lowered. Aidan lay on the floor, bruised and bloodied. His face was so badly beaten that it was barely recognisable.

Darcy’s eyes shifted downward, landing on his own hands. They were stained with blood and shaking.

For a moment, he simply stared at them, as though unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

Then... Arms tightened around him. They were warm and unyielding.

"I am sorry..." the voice came again, softer now, filled with guilt. "I shouldn’t have meddled..."

Darcy froze. That voice... Recognition hit him instantly. Disbelief flickered across his darkened eyes as he turned his head.

Micah was there. Sitting behind him. Holding him tightly. And crying.

The sight struck him harder than anything else. Around them, the aftermath of the chaos was evident.

Leo and Archie were both injured, clearly having tried to intervene and stop Darcy, only to be caught in the storm of his rage.

Silas, in contrast, stood at a distance, completely untouched except for the cut under his eye, his expression as unreadable as ever.

The door opened once more. Clyde stepped inside. His gaze moved immediately to Aidan’s motionless form on the ground. There was no shock in his expression. No panic. Only a cold, detached indifference.

"Even until the very end," Clyde said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion, "you only knew how to be cruel."

Darcy’s mind struggled to piece everything together. The transition from blind rage to this moment of clarity felt jarring, disorienting.

Clyde glanced at the wailing Micah and dazed Darcy for a second before he sighed in resignation. He stepped forward, crouching down beside Aidan to assess his condition. After a brief examination, he spoke again.

"He is still breathing," he said calmly. "He is alive."

The words seemed to release something in Micah. His grip tightened slightly as he let out a shaky breath.

"Thank God..." Micah whispered, his voice trembling. "Otherwise, I’d have had to go to prison for you."

Darcy’s entire body jerked slightly at those words. "What?" he asked, the confusion in his voice cutting through the lingering haze.

"You said you wouldn’t throw away your life for them. That you care about us. I know for sure it was just an accident. Right?" Micah mumbled under his breath. "If push comes to shove, I’ll step forward to take responsibility. Considering our past... I owe you so much. This wouldn’t be a big deal... to tell I was the one hitting Aidan."

Micah kept rambling, his words growing more alarming.

Darcy stared at him in a daze, words failed to form in his mouth.

Not far away, Leo lifted a hand to his jaw, wincing as he rubbed the sore area. The past few minutes had been nothing short of a nightmare. Darcy had completely lost control. There was no other way to describe it.

He had attacked Aidan with a level of intensity that bordered on madness, and when they had tried to intervene, it had been as though they were facing something inhuman.

No matter how they tried to restrain him, he had simply overpowered them, pushing them aside with terrifying ease.

It had been genuinely frightening. Then, just when things seemed to spiral beyond recovery, the door burst open.

Micah had arrived. Breathless. Sweat was clinging to his skin.

And without hesitation, he had thrown himself at Darcy. They had tried to stop him, terrified that Darcy, still consumed by rage, might strike him as well.

But Micah had not let go. He had clung to Darcy like a lifeline, refusing to be pushed away, speaking to him, grounding him, pulling him back from the edge.

And somehow... It had worked. Darcy had stopped.

Leo lowered his hand, his gaze shifting toward Aidan’s battered form. His lips pressed tightly together.

This situation... This entire disaster... It had not been accidental. Aidan had provoked it, pushing Darcy’s buttons too hard until he snapped.

That crazy man. He had known exactly what he was doing. And now... Now everything was a complete and utter mess.