CHAPTER 498: CLYDE DU PONT AND THE ART OF SUFFERING GRACEFULLY

Micah left the apartment, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in the hall. Clyde stood motionless for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on the door, before exhaling slowly and rubbing his tired eyes. Since the moment Micah had woken up until now, Clyde had been forced to control his expression, masking his fear and exhaustion, not letting Micah pick up on it.

Today’s chaos had given him a scare. Thankfully, it had passed without any problems.

Clyde turned toward the guest room. The door was closed, and inside, too quiet. He hesitated, his fingers hovering in the air before knocking on the door.

Tap, tap.

"Come in," Darcy’s voice came from inside.

When Clyde opened the door, he found Darcy sitting upright on the bed, his back propped against the headboard. He looked pale, though the fever flush had mostly faded. His phone rested in his hand, the screen dimming as he placed it aside.

Clyde stepped in and closed the door. He walked over and sat on a chair beside the bed as he said, "We need to talk." His voice was low and solemn.

Darcy tilted his head. "Shoot. I’m all ears."

"What happened during the diving?" Clyde asked, going straight to the point. There was no hesitation in his words, but his eyes betrayed the tension behind them.

Darcy blinked once, his expression unreadable. Then, he raised an eyebrow. "Why aren’t you asking him yourself?" he asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Clyde gave a weary sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because... he never told me... and this morning, he spilled the truth when he was out of it. He went into a panic the moment he saw you burning up with fever. I was afraid that if I brought it up again, it would trigger another episode."

Darcy frowned slightly, his brows knitting together. "Trigger what?"

Clyde looked at him then, his gaze steady but tired. "Micah... is not as strong as he looks. Don’t be fooled by his tough act or sharp tongue. That’s how he survived. Underneath, he’s fragile. He’s had panic attacks before... more than once. And most of the time, they’re connected to you, or the whole swapped baby incident."

Darcy’s expression didn’t change much, but his fingers tightened slightly around the blanket. "So?" he said slowly, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Clyde said quietly, "He had another one this morning. When he found out you were delirious with fever. He thought he was losing you."

For a while, the room was silent. Darcy looked down, his dark lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but distant. "His leg was tangled in kelp. When I found him, his oxygen tank was empty. He stopped breathing for a moment. I performed CPR before he started breathing again."

Clyde’s face drained of colour. He bit his tongue, trying to control his emotions. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling. "Thank you.., if you weren’t there..." Clyde couldn’t finish. The words stuck in his throat.

The thought of losing Micah again terrified him.

Darcy looked at the shaken man, seeing he was sincere when he thanked him. Darcy’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "You’d better never let him go near the sea again. It’s common to develop a phobia after a near-death experience."

Clyde clenched his hands together. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Darcy stared at him for a moment before speaking again. "Why are you fine with this?"

"With what?" Clyde asked.

"Me being near him..." Darcy’s tone sharpened. "Shouldn’t you go ballistic, demanding Micah stay away from me? Or vice versa?!"

Clyde chuckled. "Perhaps you didn’t hear what I said earlier. He had panic attacks..."

"I know. I mean," Darcy interrupted. "Most people would be so jealous that they don’t care about the well-being of their partner. They lash out, or try to brainwash and manipulate them..."

Clyde sighed loudly. "Darcy... when you’ve reached my age, when you have lost too much, you will start to be a coward. You start to fear that even a slight frown or a wrong word might make the person you love dissatisfied with you, or worse, walk away. And I know how much Micah cares about you. And because I know, I’ll never try to take away the things or the people he cherishes. I’d rather see him happy, even if that happiness doesn’t include me."

Darcy’s throat felt oddly tight. He looked away, focusing on the edge of the blanket as he smoothed it unconsciously. He pursed his lips. He wasn’t some naive teenager. When he had died, he was twenty-eight in his past life. Still, from what he had seen, from the way those four treated Micah, or how Clyde had been obsessed with having Micah... he couldn’t bring himself to believe Clyde’s words. That someone could act this selflessly like him.

Darcy clenched the blanket more tightly.

Clyde watched the boy’s reaction. "You don’t have to worry about me meddling in your relationship with Micah. Like I promised to Zhou Ruyan, I won’t appear near Micah in public. Or put him in the spotlight. I believe in Micah and his feelings for me. Even if he doesn’t want me, I won’t use force or coercion to keep him."

Clyde stood up and turned toward the door. "I think that answers your questions." He paused with his hands on the doorknob. "Micah went downstairs. He was worried you would be upset with me being here." He tilted his head, giving Darcy a knowing look.

Darcy’s head snapped up. But Clyde turned around once again and left the room, not letting him see his sour expression.

Darcy tilted his head back and barked a laugh. He was indeed Clyde Du Pont, the patriarch of that powerful family. The one he remembered from his past life. Only calmer, more rational, and annoyingly amiable.

It was strange, no unsettling, how different Clyde felt in this life. The man who once terrified everyone now spoke like someone who had learned how to let go. And yet... that made him even harder to read.