Chapter 401: From Sister Panic to Grandpa Doom
After what felt like an eternity, Aria finally left the hospital room.
Micah poked his head cautiously out from under the blanket like a chipmunk peeking from its burrow.
"She is not here," Clyde’s calm voice said.
Micah sat up quickly in bed. His face was half pale, half flushed. "Crap. This is bad. She is going to roast me later. Why did your nephew even let her in?"
Clyde stood smoothly and walked toward him. "She wouldn’t leave until she saw you."
"I know," Micah groaned, scrubbing his face with both hands. "Hey, why didn’t you wake me up? You just let her see me like this? She is going to tell everyone."
Clyde reached the table, lifting the lid off one of the containers calmly. "I didn’t have the heart to wake you. What do you want for breakfast?"
Micah glanced at him and climbed out of the bed. He looked at all the food on the table. "Man, why did they send us a feast? Who could eat all of this?"
Clyde’s hands moved neatly, arranging the food. "Aren’t you hungry?"
Micah’s stomach grumbled right on cue.
He sat down and began eating without ceremony, pretending it wasn’t his stomach that made a sound like a hungry wolf in the middle of the night.
"You heard her, right?" Clyde asked, his voice even.
"Yeah," Micah muttered through a mouthful. "Don’t need to repeat it."
"Good. After eating let’s get you checked then."
"Huh? For what? I’m healthy as a horse."
"Do it for me," Clyde said simply. He was worried the fever would come back again.
"Fine," Micah said, swallowing the food.
They ate quickly, Clyde’s pace measured and tidy, Micah’s more rushed and messy.
Micah was tidying up the table when the door was knocked again.
Micah opened the door absentmindedly.
"Grandpa?" he blurted in surprise. His body stiffened. "What are you doing here?"
Albert Ramsy stood in the doorway, his posture straight, a cane in one hand, hair combed back, his suit pressed, his expression calm but heavy with authority. His eyes sharp and dark, swept past Micah and landed on Clyde.
"Hello. I’m here to check on you." Albert Ramsy said in his steady voice. His gaze lingered on the man with the bandaged head.
Clyde rose at once, gesturing politely. "Mr Ramsy. Please, come inside."
The two men’s eyes met, and though their words were courteous, the air thickened instantly.
They began their battle of wits with each other, while Micah sweated profusely.
He looked between them nervously, his chest tightening.
When his grandfather got involved, it meant the situation had escalated beyond repair.
Desperate to ease the atmosphere, Micah blurted, "Grandpa, sit down. Have you had breakfast?"
"Yeah. Don’t worry about that. Come sit. I want to know what happened." Albert Ramsy said, waving the matter aside.
Micah groaned inwardly. Shit. How could he tell the truth? He swallowed hard. "I think they got the wrong person. I have never seen them before."
"Who were they?" Albert Ramsy asked sharply.
"I don’t know. Two men grabbed me and asked about things I had no idea about. After an hour they let me go." Micah lied with half-truths, his eyes darting away.
Albert’s gaze didn’t soften. "Do you remember their faces? I’ll have the police come to take your description."
Micah nodded reluctantly, knowing he couldn’t get away from this.
Then Albert Ramsy turned his sharp eyes toward Clyde. "Mr Du Pont, are you certain they weren’t related to you?"
Micah jumped. "Of course not, Grandpa!"
Albert looked at him with a disapproving look.
"I’m telling the truth," Micah insisted. "They were asking me about a black-haired young man my age. They thought I was friends with him." Micah said, remembering he had dyed his hair that night when he landed on Aidan’s car roof.
Albert Ramsy paused. "They didn’t mean your friend Darcy, right?"
Micah’s mouth opened wide. "Hah? No, no." He waved his hands frantically.
Albert studied him a moment longer, before sighing. He gave up on asking his grandson more questions. He turned toward Clyde. "Mr Du Pont. Thank you for saving my grandson. I would appreciate it if you allowed us to investigate as well."
Clyde’s expression didn’t change. "Of course. I’ll forward everything once my side has concluded the investigation."
Albert Ramsy nodded and stood up. "Very well."
Micah followed him out.
"Micah," Albert Ramsy said as they reached the hall. "Stay away from him."
Micah was taken aback. "What? Why?"
Albert’s eyes were grave. "He is not someone you should be close to. Your tongue is reckless, without any filter. You offend people as easily as drinking water. We cannot afford to make him our enemy."
"Grandpa. He saved my life." Micah lied without batting an eye. Technically it wasn’t a lie. Clyde had helped him multiple times. "I can’t just be ungrateful and leave. Besides Mum is going to come up. Can I stay until then?"
Albert Ramsy glanced at the closed door. "I’ll send him some antiques as thanks. Don’t meddle further. I let your mother know. Be good and return home. Your grandma is worried."
Micah opened his mouth to protest but Albert Ramsy’s sharp look shut him instantly.
Micah dropped his head, shoulders slumping. "Fine."
"Good. I’ll be waiting in the car," he said and walked toward the elevator.
Micah dragged himself back into the room. He looked at Clyde dejectedly.
Clyde didn’t ask. He had already guessed what had happened. His reputation in high society was rotten. Of course, Albert Ramsy would warn his grandson away.
"Go ahead," Clyde said quietly. "I’ll probably be discharged soon. We can still talk on the phone. You don’t want to tell them the truth, do you?"
Micah pursed his lips, pouting. He walked straight over and hugged Clyde. "Don’t ghost me, you hear?"
"Mmm..." Clyde hummed softly in reply.
"Hey!" Micah pulled back slightly to glare at him. "How are you so fine with me leaving? I thought you developed a separation phobia or something."
Clyde’s lips curved faintly. "Of course, I don’t want to let you go. If I could, I’d carry you in my pocket and keep you with me all the time. But you’d better stay away from me. I am afraid Aidan Wilson had already marked me. Not to mention, Silas Durant."
Micah bit the inside of his cheek hard. He knew Clyde was right. Aidan, that obsessive psycho, would not let go of this opportunity. "Oh, right. Where is the phone he gave me?"
"I handled it. We’ll check it for bugs first, then decide what to do." Clyde said.
Micah nodded. He nuzzled into Clyde’s arm. "Okay. I’m charged." with that, he forced himself to step away, leaving the room with reluctant steps, knowing full well his grandfather was waiting for him downstairs.