CHAPTER 265: TARGET MARKED

There was a long, heavy silence in the room. Clyde leaned forward on a sofa and took a mineral water. With a graceful flick of his wrist, he twisted the cap open and took a slow sip. His gaze remained lowered, but something in his posture shifted. A thought occurred to him.

"So," he said slowly, breaking the quiet. "Why was she transferred all of a sudden? Was there a complication? An argument?"

He swirled the bottle absentmindedly in his hand as he spoke, watching the water move. Clyde didn’t know why Micah had picked a fight with the heir of the Durant family. He had heard some rumours, that they had manipulated a patient’s access to a rare medicine. But he couldn’t piece together the full story.

The director gave a short, awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah... I heard her attending doctor was behind it," he said, carefully choosing his words. "Apparently, he used his family’s business to humiliate the patient’s son."

Clyde paused. "What do you mean?"

The director leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if someone might be eavesdropping through the walls.

"Well, my wife’s friends work over at the Queen’s hospital," he began, his voice full of disdain. "They said the doctor was some kind of mysophobe freak. A real control-freak lunatic. Even though he was the only heir of the Durant family, he was tossed aside by the family to work in a public hospital because of that."

Clyde’s brows furrowed.

The director clicked his tongue and continued, his face twisting in disgust. "There is a talk he swings that way... and he has a taste for boys. Young ones. Ugh... such a disgusting man.... Can you imagine? He had his eye on the patient’s son, tried to seduce him, dominate him, or something just as vile. These days, I swear, young people are really something else..."

Clyde’s grip on the mineral bottle tightened. A small crackling sound escaped as his fingers curled tighter around it. "You mean Silas Durant?" he asked flatly, voice low.

The director nodded. "Yeah, I think that was the name. Silas. And no one had come forward to file a complaint about him until now. So the hospital staff are forced to tolerate him. Without evidence, they can’t kick him out."

Clyde didn’t move for a second. Then, with a swift motion, he crushed the bottle in his hand with a loud thud.

The director flinched. He quickly got up and went outside, calling for staff to come and clean up. But the real reason was that he was scared out of his wits.

Clyde’s jaw clenched visibly. Beneath the cool exterior, something was boiling, quiet but furious.

Micah had made an enemy of someone like that?

His mind raced.

He knew the type. Obsessive. Vain. Consumed by the need for control. When someone like that decided to possess something or someone, they didn’t care what they had to destroy to get it. Reputation. Money. Legacy. It all came second to the hunt.

So if Silas Durant had truly fixated on Darcy... it meant he would not let go that easily.

And Micah had stepped between them... he had painted a target on his back.

Micah was in danger.

Clyde’s eyes darkened. A cold knot of rage and dread settled in his stomach.

He needed to do something. Micah had always acted like the hero, without a care about the consequences. He really didn’t seem to realise just how vulnerable he was in all this. That his self-sacrificing nobility, his foolish sense of duty, only made him a bigger target.

And that black-haired boy... he was too lenient with him, thinking Micah needed him as a friend. But now it seemed it was the opposite. Darcy was just dragging Micah deep into danger.

Clyde pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the door. His movements were quick, his anger masked beneath a tight, purposeful calm.

The director and the staff members who had been hovering near the door flinched, seeing him strolling toward them. Their faces turned pale, offering apologies in a rush.

"President, we are deeply sorry for the oversight..."

"We quickly provide a set of new clothes for you..."

"President, we will make sure Ms Tilden’s case will not affect the hospital’s reputation. And the case is handled discreetly. She will be discharged soon without any complications," the director quickly added.

Clyde stopped just outside the director’s office, letting them speak. His expression didn’t change. He stood with his arms loosely at his side, head slightly tilted as if bored. The sleeve of his right arm was soaking wet, but Clyde didn’t care.

"Right. You can go now." Clyde said, his tone neutral. Unreadable.

They bowed and shuffled away like frightened schoolchildren. Not a single one dared to look him in the eye.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clyde caught a shadow near the hallway wall.

His body tensed as he turned sharply. He recognised the clothes right away. "Why are you tailing me?" Clyde asked.

Darcy stepped into view, his face calm, but his posture rigid. "I wanted to ask you something," he said with a serious tone. "But now I’ve become more curious as to who you are. Why are you snooping around my Mum’s case?"

Clyde put his hands in his pants pockets. His gaze swept over Darcy, like he was deciding how much to say.

"Clyde Du Pont," he said casually. "La Riviere? That’s my family company."

He stepped closer. "I am the boss here. So I should know what’s going on with the hospital."

Darcy flinched. He didn’t even register the family name at first. But La Riviere...it wasn’t just a pharmaceutical company or a hospital sponsor. It was an empire. It had branches all over the world. Not just in medicine. No. In real estate, mining, and multimedia.

Clyde Du Pont wasn’t just a successful businessman.

No. He stood at the top of the world, looking down at people like Darcy as if they were ants.