Chapter 403: Grandma Spills the Tea
Inside the study, Micah sat in a chair directly opposite his grandfather and grandmother. Neither of them spoke, the silence stretching unbearably long. The ticking sound of the clock echoed in the room.
Finally, Albert Ramsy broke the silence. "Tell me the truth. What were you up to?"
Micah’s stomach dropped.
"You," Albert continued. "The boy who runs away at the mention of socialising, who hides behind excuses, how could you suddenly go willingly to a mixer at the Gu family? And then cause trouble like that? Then come back bruised? And the very next day, dine with the Du Pont patriarch? All of this is not something you normally do."
Micah chewed hard on his bottom lip, head bowed, shoulders hunched inward like he could make himself smaller.
Albert’s eyes burned into him. "I brought you here knowing full well you are hiding something. I held back when you befriended that dark-haired boy, asked to help him, and I let you. I didn’t think much of it. But after that, you changed. You’re gone most days, distancing yourself. Even your expenses, slashed to a fraction of what they used to be." His voice grew sharper. "What’s going on? What are you hiding? Your mother and father, god bless them, baby you too much, coddling you, thinking they can shelter you forever. But not me. Until you talk, you are not leaving this room."
Micah’s chest tightened. He darted a helpless look toward Zhou Ruyan, silently begging for her intervention. But his grandmother dropped her head, enjoying her tea.
Micah felt cornered. He couldn’t utter the truth, nor could he lie. It was one thing for them to discover the truth themselves; it was another for him to admit it aloud. To admit with his own lips that he was not a true Ramsy... it would destroy him. He felt as if he himself had dug his heart out and torn it apart if he said those words to them.
These people were his family. He had grown up on Albert Ramsy’s lap, listening wide-eyed to the stories of ancestors and victories as if they were his own blood. His eyes welled up. He couldn’t sever this bond with his own hands. His limit was just Zhou Ruyan. Even though he didn’t tell her. Just show her Darcy.
Zhou Ruyan watched as her grandson withered under her eyes. She sighed and put her teacup down.
Reaching for a folder from the side table, she pulled out a photograph and placed it before Albert Ramsy. She had held back until now because of the promise she made to Micah. But now, it had to end.
Micah was in danger. Maybe he knew something they didn’t.
Albert Ramsy threw a questioning glance at his wife. Zhou Ruyan gave no explanation, simply pushing the picture closer.
Albert Ramsy picked it up with steady hands and looked at it. He paused, then he grabbed his reading glasses, putting them on, and he looked again. His brows furrowed. He turned toward his wife. "Why do you have a picture of Micah’s friend?"
Micah jerked up, hearing the words. He hadn’t even noticed when his grandmother pulled out the photo. He had been drowning in his own misery, totally missing it.
Now, his hazel eyes behind glasses dilated. His heart pounded so hard he felt the sound echoing in the room. His mouth went dry as he looked at that piece of paper in Albert Ramsy’s hand. He didn’t stop Zhou Ruyan. No. It was inevitable. Better that he learned it from her. At least, in the novel, Albert Ramsy was the only one who had not abandoned him until the end.
Meanwhile, Albert Ramsy couldn’t fathom what he was looking at. The young man in the old picture was the spitting image of Darcy. But it was obvious it couldn’t be him. He lifted his gaze and caught Micah’s face. The blood was drained from his face. Lips parted, eyes not blinking. His breathing had turned shallow and uneven.
Albert Ramsy stood up suddenly. "What’s wrong? Micah?"
Micah’s throat constricted. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. "Nothing, Grandpa..." he whispered, clutching his hands together.
Albert Ramsy’s forehead wrinkled. He turned his head to his wife, momentarily puzzled by the situation.
Zhou Ruyan’s expression turned helpless. One grandson was too scared to speak, and one husband was too dense or stubborn to see it. At last, she opened her mouth. "That’s my deceased brother."
Albert’s expression didn’t change. "The one who died in a car accident before we met?"
Zhou Ruyan nodded, then continued. "Why do you think he looks like him?"
"A distant cousin, then? Could he have left behind a child?"
"Dear," Zhou Ruyan said softly, staring at him.
The photo slipped from Albert’s hand, fluttering to the ground. His eyes darted toward Micah. "Who is he?" His voice came out low, shaking.
Micah felt he had swallowed a mouthful of sand. He moistened his lips. "He is... I’m not..." he broke off, choking on the admission he couldn’t speak.
Albert Ramsy’s hand shot to his chest, clutching tightly. His cane toppled sideways with a full clatter.
"Grandpa!" Micah jumped to his feet. He rushed to his side, grabbing his arm, steadying him back into the chair.
Albert Ramsy whispered. "How? When? How is this possible?"
Micah dropped his head. He couldn’t answer it.
Zhou Ruyan rose and placed a gentle hand on Albert’s shoulder. "Dear... it should have occurred in the hospital. Before anyone else saw the children to notice the change."
Albert clasped her hand. "Then how did you..," he looked at Micah.
"He found out because he had seen my brother’s picture. It was all a coincidence. Nothing more," Zhou Ruyan said.
Micah hurriedly grabbed a glass of water, his fingers trembling so much the rim nearly slipped. He placed it into Albert’s hands, his breath shallow.
Albert Ramsy took it, sipping carefully, wetting his lips, baffled. He never thought a simple attempt to discipline his grandson would shatter his entire world.