Chapter 334: Meet the Sister: Level Hard Mode (part 3)
The waitress placed two steaming cups on the table with a practised smile, the rich scent of roasted coffee beans drifting through the cozy cafe. Willow offered her thanks with a polite nod before turning her full attention back to the boy seated across from her. She rested her hands on the edge of the table for a moment, fingers drumming lightly as though she were choosing her words. Then she exhaled, her shoulders rising and falling with a sigh.
"My little brother," she said at last, her eyes narrowing, her tone carrying a hint of affection beneath the reproach. "You are becoming more and more mischievous. Why aren’t you telling me the truth?"
Micah straightened at once, puffing out his chest as if to defend himself, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks. "I’m not sure what you mean," he said, tilting his head innocently. "I’m telling the truth." His voice wavered just slightly at the end, betraying a flicker of unease.
Willow lifted one finely shaped brow, her expression calm but sharp enough to pierce through his flimsy defence. She leaned forward in her chair, one hand sliding under her chin, her posture relaxed, the same stance she used to put pressure on the other side of a business contract.
"Really?" she asked, her voice low. "Because I am quite sure the Du Pont Patriarch is only a few years older than me. So tell me...What’s this old geezer nonsense you mentioned?"
Micah’s heart pounded in his chest. Oh shit. How did she know about Clyde? His palm grew clammy under the table, a prickling sweat forming at the back of his neck. Has she seen him before? Did she suspect something?!
Micah groaned inwardly for his pitiful self. He hadn’t even managed to say the L-word to Clyde, and yet somehow his family had already sniffed out the scent of his budding romance.
Willow tilted her head as she studied Micah. "Um?" she prodded gently. " Why so quiet all of a sudden?"
"Fine, I was just bluffing," he muttered, dropping the act of overconfidence. "I don’t know why they offered us such a deal. But Emile and I are... we’re close roommates, good friends. We helped each other a few times. I guess it is because of that." Micah said, trying to keep his words vague, steering clear of Clyde’s name.
For a moment, Willow said nothing. She simply regarded him, tapping a finger against her chin as though pondering his words. Finally, she nodded. "I thought so too," she murmured. She lifted her cup, inhaling the steam before taking a measured sip. The cappuccino left a faint trace of foam at the corner of her lip, which she dabbed away delicately with a napkin. Setting the cup down, she glanced at him again. "I’ve heard many bad rumours about their patriarch. If you ever cross paths with him, you should be careful. "
Micah tilted his head, his curiosity slipping past the mask of indifference he was trying to maintain. "Like what?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Willow hesitated, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. She pressed her lips together, moistening them briefly as if debating how much to say. "He is said to be a cold man, too ruthless, not just in the business world but ... in other matters as well. And there are far worse rumours that I don’t think you need to concern yourself with. Just be careful."
Micah felt his heart shatter into pieces. His fingers tightened around the handle of his fork until his knuckle whitened.
His Clyde? The gentle, caring man who held him without asking for anything in return, who couldn’t even bring himself to kiss him when the moment hung heavy between them? Ruthless? Cold? Micah’s throat tightened painfully. What else were they saying about him?
His lips parted, aching to protest, to say "No, you don’t know him. He’s not like that." But the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t let them out. If he showed too much interest in the Du Pont patriarch, Willow would get suspicious. She was too sharp to miss his anger.
So instead, he forced his lips into a thin smile. "Alright," Micah said quietly, lowering his gaze to the cake in front of him.
Willow studied him for a long moment, but she didn’t press further. She lifted her cup again, taking another sip, before settling down. Her fingers lingered against the rim, circling idly as her brows knitted in hesitation. "Micah," she said softly, almost as if she was testing his mood. "Don’t you want to join the company? This could be your chance. I can even spread the word that it was you who secured such a good deal for us..."
Micah shook his head almost immediately. "Older sister, you know I have no interest in the company. You should use this instead," he said firmly.
Willow leaned forward even more, her gaze earnest. "But grandpa would really like it if you stepped in...you know how he is. He would never agree to hand it to me. And I know," her voice softened, almost a whisper. "I know you did all those ridiculous things before, trying to make him think you were a lost cause, but..."
Micah stabbed a fork into the cake, scooping a piece and shoving it into his mouth before she could finish. Chewing quickly, he asked abruptly, "Do you like that guy, the Gu family’s heir?"
Willow’s lips parted in surprise at Micah’s question. "Not this again. I told you..."
Micah raised his hand, gesturing to stop her. His eyes were serious now, his earlier playfulness nowhere to be seen. "I am not talking about an annulment," he interrupted firmly. His gaze locked on hers, unwavering. "I am asking what kind of relationship you actually want with him. How do you feel about him?"
Willow dropped her head, her fingers traced the rim of her cup in a slow thoughtful circle. Her little brother’s face was deadly serious, his brows drawn together, his mouth set in a firm line. He solemnly showed this expression. And mostly it was related to the family matters. She still remembered how hard Micah tried not to let her get engaged to Gu Donghai. How he had starved himself, protested endlessly, argued until his voice broke, all because he wanted to protect her.
At last, she exhaled, her eyes softening just a little. "I don’t hate him," she admitted slowly. "But I am not head over heels for him either. So... it will be just a regular arranged marriage, the one you see often in high society."
Micah nodded as though he had expected this answer. He leaned back in his chair, setting down his fork. "Good. Then let’s strike our own deal with him."