Chapter 425: Shirtless Micah Strikes Again
Throughout the afternoon, Darcy and Micah had been arguing nonstop with each other without being able to reach a common ground.
Micah’s chest rose and fell in quick bursts. His face flushed, his fists clenched tight at his sides. He was fuming, absolutely fuming. Darcy’s calm attitude only poured oil onto the fire. No matter how Micah argued, the young man would not budge.
Darcy sat there, expression relaxed. "I don’t want anything to do with Ramsy’s family."
That was it. Micah exploded.
"You listen to me!" he shouted, his voice trembling with anger. "Even if you don’t want to, you are part of the Ramsy family. Meaning there will always be people trying to use you, to target you. So just suck it up and join the company as an intern. Work your way up to a director at least! That way, you shut people’s mouths and block their way to spread rumours about you."
Darcy calmly picked up his glass of ice water and took a slow sip. The quiet sound of ice clinking against the glass mocked Micah’s anger. Then, in that same maddeningly calm tone, he said, "Micah. You are the Ramsy young master. And you always will be. I am not going to be one."
"Why? Why won’t you?" Micah roared. "It is all yours! It’s rightfully yours! Are you doing this because of me?"
Darcy’s silence was answer enough.
Micah’s voice shook as he continued. "Because I don’t like it. I hate it! Don’t you get it? I don’t need you to forget your rights just to make me happy! It doesn’t make me happy, Darcy. It makes me feel like a piece of shit! Do you hear me?"
Darcy set his glass down with a soft click. He let out a tired sigh and stood. His movements were unhurried. He crouched in front of Micah, lowering himself until they were at eye level. "If I go back," Darcy spoke softly, "will you really be happy?" His dark eyes searched Micah’s, patient, unwavering. "It will be awkward for all of us. You know it. I’ll visit, sure. But I can’t just accept them as my family. And...I am sure they feel the same. Let’s just leave it as it is, okay? If everything goes well... maybe I will change my mind someday."
His hand rose gently, fingers brushing through Micah’s messy hair. "Listen to your big brother."
Micah’s lips twitched. "What big brother? I told you I was born first."
Darcy’s lips curved into a chuckle, his tone playful as he leaned closer. "Okay. Older brother. Take care of me then." His voice softened into a coo, mocking yet affectionate.
"Ugh! Shut up!" Micah shoved Darcy’s face away, ears burning. "You are such a..." he stopped, sighed heavily, and stood abruptly. "I’ll need some fresh air."
Micah didn’t wait for Darcy’s reply. He rushed upstairs, changed his clothes, and put on his contact lenses. He left the Villa.
He kicked the stones on the pavement, mumbling to himself. His hands shoved into his shorts pocket. "Stupid Darcy! I got my ass kicked to let you come into Ramsy’s family without those four meddlers. And what do you do? Play hard to get! Total Idiot."
His shoulders slumped as he walked, the heat of his anger rising with the afternoon sun. Eventually, his steps slowed. An ice cream vendor caught his eye. Without thinking, Micah bought a cone of chocolate ice cream. He took a lazy lick, the sweetness melting on his tongue, and wandered aimlessly, licking absentmindedly.
On the beach ahead, a group of kids was playing volleyball. Their bantering rang out, noisy. The ball bounced wildly, rolling toward Micah.
Micah leaned forward and caught the ball with one hand.
"Big brother!" one of the kids called, running up to him. "Come play with us!"
"Yeah," another chimed in. "They are older than us. They keep bullying us."
Micah squinted at the other team. A pair of lanky high school kids smirked from the other side of the net. He had seen them around the neighbourhood. "Fine."
He shoved the rest of the ice cream into his mouth in one go. He dusted his hands, then jogged down onto the warm sand, tossing the ball into the air with a grin.
The game started fast. The high schoolers sneered, but Micah’s energy was unmatched. Now that his broken ribs had healed, he leapt into the air, his body twisting gracefully as he slammed the ball across the net. Sand sprayed from under his feet. His skin glistened with sweat, his shirt clinging to his chest and back.
"Nice one, big brother!" the kids cheered, their small fists pumping in the air.
The high schoolers cursed under their breaths as Micah scored again. His movements were sharp, fluid, and confident. His grin widened each time the ball scored off his hand.
A group of high school girls gathered at the edge of the beach, squealing and clapping whenever Micah made a move.
Then Micah lifted his shirt and wiped his sweaty face, revealing his six-pack muscles underneath it. The squeals grew louder.
In the evening breeze and fading sun, Micah shone like a star. That was Clyde’s thought.
He leaned against a railing, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and a low cap as he watched Micah. Dressed in a flowery shirt and casual shorts, he looked like a clueless tourist and not anything like the Du Pont patriarch.
His heart ached at the sight. In none of their past lives had Micah been free. He had never been free to truly be himself. In everyone, he had been bound by duty, by love, by tragedy. Never carefree. Never smiling like that.
He should be like this all the time. Carefree and lively.
The urge to run down, to pull Micah into his arms, to claim him openly in front of everyone, almost overpowered him. He wanted to tell those girls, those strangers, that Micah belonged to him. That no one else had the right to cheer for him with such adoration.
But he was scared. Scared Micah noticed his change.
He was so deep in thought that he missed the ball coming his way.
"Watch out, mister!" someone yelled.
The volleyball slammed Clyde in the face. His sunglasses tilted crookedly as he stumbled back, startled.
Micah, being the oldest of the group, rushed over immediately. "Sorry, mister, are you all right?" his voice got stuck the moment his eyes landed on Clyde’s face. Then he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh god! What’s this get-up?!"