CHAPTER 526: THE REBELLIOUS TEENAGER, THE CALM SCHEMER, AND THE HUNGRY IDIOT (PART ONE)

The elevator chimed softly as Micah followed Clyde inside, balancing the dessert box in both hands like it was a treasure. He was still puzzled about why Darcy suddenly changed his mind and decided to tag along. The guy looked like he had been dragged into a parent-teacher conference he didn’t sign up for. After the way Darcy had stormed off, Micah thought he had gone straight to their apartment, but then, out of nowhere, he turned around and followed them instead.

Micah’s head throbbed. Too tired to think, he pushed aside Darcy’s strange behaviour for now.

Clyde pressed the top floor button, and the doors slid shut with a faint hiss. The elevator began its smooth ascent, mirrors reflecting all three of them in uncomfortable silence. Clyde glanced at Darcy meaningfully.

Darcy, of course, caught it instantly and tilted his head, returning a daring, almost mocking stare.

The air buzzed with the tension, like positive and negative charges colliding, sparks ready to fly.

Micah, standing between the two like a human buffer, didn’t notice the storm above his head. All his attention was on the box in his hands. He carefully opened the lid, letting the sugary aroma of custard and chocolate fill his nose.

He wasn’t hungry, not really. Just curious. Okay, maybe a little hungry. Or maybe it was greed. After the whole circus with his family earlier, his stomach had felt like a crumpled paper ball, and he’d lost all appetite from nerves. But now... he gulped, mouth watering.

Inside the box, an assortment of delicate pastries glistened under the warm light: mini macarons, shortcakes topped with berries, chocolate mousse cups, golden egg custard tarts, and tiny fruit tarts arranged like jewels.

Before he knew it, his hand moved on its own, he picked up a small tart and popped it into his mouth.

The sweetness of custard melted against the crisp shell, making him close his eyes and hum in pleasure.

Behind him, both Clyde and Darcy stiffened at the sound. The silent staring contest paused mid-battle, eyes turning toward the culprit.

After tasting the sweetness, Micah couldn’t resist and grabbed another one. A macaron this time, pale pink with a glossy shell. He shoved it into his mouth, cheeks puffing.

Darcy’s voice cut through the silence. "Didn’t we just have dinner? Are you still hungry?"

Micah froze mid-chew, being caught red-handed. He slowly swallowed, licking his lips. "I can’t even remember what I ate! I was too stressed to taste anything!"

"Really?" Darcy raised his eyebrow. "That’s not what I remember. You devoured the whole roasted chicken right in front of me."

"So what?" Micah shot back. "Haven’t you heard that if your brain doesn’t feel satisfied, you still feel hungry?"

Clyde’s brows furrowed. "Something happened?" His tone was light but edged with concern.

Micah avoided his gaze and stuffed another tart into his mouth.

Darcy’s eyebrow twitched. "Of course not. He is being dramatic as usual."

"Yeah, easy for you to say," Micah said with a huff, crumbs still on his fingers. "I was the one sitting there sweating bullets while my heart was in my throat, fearing you and my mum would draw blades and duel right there in the living room!"

"Oh, bonding time, then," Clyde said, uninterested.

"I wish!" Micah rolled his eyes and pointed at Darcy. "This one was acting like a rebellious teenager the entire night! He went against everything my mum or others said! Totally disregarding them."

Darcy shrugged, unbothered. "Why should I care?"

"They’re your biological parents! At least your elders! Show some respect!" Micah said, his voice rising in disbelief.

Darcy sneered. "Ha! Again with this."

Micah gritted his teeth, ready to go another round arguing with Darcy, when suddenly a cream puff was shoved into his wide-open mouth.

"Eat this before I cook something for you," Clyde said, tone composed as ever. Then he took the box from Micah’s hands. "Too much sweet is not good for your stomach."

Micah chewed, glaring daggers at Darcy instead.

The elevator door gave a soft ding, stopping him from further bickering.

When the doors slid open, cool air greeted them along with the faint scent of new paint and wood polish. Clyde stepped out first and unlocked the door at the end of the hallway.

Micah trailed behind, eyes widening as they entered the penthouse.

The space was wide and open, bathed in the silver glow of city lights streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. The skyline stretched endlessly, dotted with glimmering towers and moving headlights below. A sleek open kitchen gleamed near the corner with black marble counters, silver appliances, and a glass dining table reflecting the cityscape. A spiral staircase of brushed steel curved upward, leading to the bedrooms.

"Not bad!" Micah nodded approvingly, his voice echoing slightly in the bare room. "If you put an L-shaped sofa here with an LED TV on the wall, and some indoor plants, this place will look much cozier."

Then he walked toward the kitchen, trailing his fingers along the smooth surface of the kitchen counter, looking around.

Darcy, standing at the doorway, looked ready to combust. His eyes twitched. Inwardly, he wanted to slap the back of Micah’s head hard, saying, Why are you so pleased? Even suggesting how to decorate? Is it your home or something?

But he could just swallow his words.

Clyde placed the dessert box on the kitchen counter and turned toward Darcy, catching that look of irritation. He followed his gaze to Micah, who was moving around in the house excitedly.

He stepped forward. "Why did you tag along?" he asked calmly. "You could’ve just gone home. Wouldn’t that be better for everyone?"

Darcy shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "And what? Leaving this idiot alone with you? Not happening."

"What could possibly happen? Do I look like I’m going to eat him?" Clyde raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Don’t even think about it," Darcy warned, his voice low. "You’d better watch yourself. The only reason I didn’t throw you out last week was that you helped Micah and me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be standing here now!"

Clyde chuckled, tilting his head. "What are you, his father?"

"At least I have the title of little brother, what about you?" Darcy shot back, smirking. "Mister?"

Clyde’s eyes flashed with an unspoken emotion before returning to his usual calm. "I am not in a hurry," he said simply, a faint smile on his lips.

Darcy clicked his tongue, thinking how this man had no idea what was coming; four men would go after Micah soon enough.

Darcy’s expression darkened as memories of his past life surfaced. Seriously, he should warn Micah or at least have some counterattacks ready to go against those four. What if they used him again to curry favour with Micah?

At least Clyde never used him. Darcy rubbed his forehead, feeling drained.