CHAPTER 549: WHEN HIS EYES STRAYED (PART ONE)

Clyde stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him with a quiet thud. The late afternoon light cast a warm glow over the building in front of them, a large warehouse that had been converted into a filming space. From the outside, it didn’t look like much. The walls were painted a dull grey, and the entrance was covered with thick black curtains to block out the stray light. A few staff members lingered near the loading ramp, chatting while holding clipboards and prop boxes.

Darcy was pacing back and forth beside the car, kicking at the gravel every few steps. His shoulders kept rising and falling as if he couldn’t settle his nerves.

Clyde watched him for a moment, then spoke. "Do you want to go inside?"

Darcy spun around, lips twitching. "After how Micah chewed our ear off? Are you crazy? Don’t you know how he holds grudges?"

"Alright then," Clyde said, leaning against the car. The metal was warm under his palm. "I checked the production teams. Come take a look. Let’s see if you remember anything."

He lifted the tablet he’d been holding. Darcy grabbed the tablet and stood there with his brow furrowed, scrolling through the list of cast members and staff profiles. Every so often, he paused before moving to the next profile.

Minutes passed. Then Darcy suddenly stopped scrolling. His eyes sharpened. "This actor... who is he?" he asked, voice tightening.

He pointed to Ilyas’s picture.

Clyde straightened a little. "So you thought something was off too. See, his family name and background are blank. So I ordered some digging earlier." He tapped the screen. "He is the one, isn’t he?"

Darcy nodded slowly. "Yeah. I remembered him because he went trending on social media for a while." He let out a bitter chuckle. "It was ironic. Ramsy Empire got blacklisted because of him, but the Lobart company gained from his demise."

Clyde’s expression stayed unreadable, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Then we should focus on him."

Darcy handed back the tablet and rubbed the back of his neck, his nerves finally settling. "Did the manager you arranged arrive?"

"Yeah. The assistant said so."

"Good. Then let’s go back. I need to look at the matter more carefully. This Lobart family has gotten on my nerves." Darcy adjusted his collar. "Seriously, why did Micah suddenly bring up their name?"

Clyde frowned slightly. "I’ll look into it. Don’t worry." He pushed himself off the car. "I’ll drop you off at home and then come back again to pick up Micah."

Darcy gave him a long, flat stare. "Wow, such a caring guy..." he grumbled.

"Well, you could go alone. I’ll stay." Clyde said. "I was being polite."

"Yeah, yeah." Darcy snorted. "I can get back by myself. You’d better watch over Micah instead."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked toward the main street without looking back.

Clyde didn’t insist on sending him off. He simply watched Darcy’s figure disappear before turning his gaze back to the set entrance. People came and went, carrying props and talking excitedly.

Something had happened inside. Clyde thought to himself.

If this weren’t a Ramsy company production, he would have walked straight in. But appearing out of the blue like this, it would only stir rumours, especially if someone snapped a photo of him. It could mess with Micah’s reputation.

Even entering the Ramsy Empire earlier... he clenched his jaw. That had been a mistake. He had been too anxious to think straight. But now, with the enemy hidden so deeply, every step needed caution. He had to stay in the shadows, even if he hated it.

He exhaled slowly, pulled out his phone, and dialled his assistant. "Give me the manager’s number," he said the moment the call connected.

Micah always hid things, sometimes out of pride, sometimes out of habit. But this wasn’t something Clyde could let slide.

Micah’s life was in danger.

He needed someone he could question directly. Someone who wouldn’t lie to him. The manager would do the job.

*****

Inside the warehouse, the final shooting for the day wrapped up with the director calling for a break. The filming space was huge, a high ceiling with hanging lights, metal scaffolding pushed to the sides, and cameras set up on rolling platforms. A massive backdrop of an interstellar setting was mounted behind the main set. Props were scattered everywhere: artificial futuristic machines and a table covered in fake sci-fi props.

Micah stepped out of the room. After changing in the small dressing room attached to the corner, he wiped off the remaining makeup, dabbing at his jaw until his skin looked like his own again.

He stretched his shoulders, rolling out the stiffness. His steps echoed lightly as he walked toward the exit of the studio.

As he rounded a corner, he spotted Ilyas standing near a stack of equipment cases. Ilyas was looking down at his phone, thumb hovering uncertainly over the screen. The dim overhead bulb cast a soft glow on his dark hair, making him look oddly lonely.

Micah approached. "Hey, will someone pick you up?"

Ilyas blinked and looked up. "It was supposed to but they are delayed. Some last-minute overtime."

Patricia, standing over the other side entrance, noticed the two. She dashed toward them, ready to drag her artist away, but she was one step behind.

Micah spoke quickly. "Come with us then. It’s Sunday evening. They’ll have a hard time finding this place at this hour."

Ilyas hesitated. This district was always crowded on weekdays, being a well-known high-tech area. But weekends turned the whole area into a quiet, half-abandoned maze. He looked around at the nearly empty space, without a noticeable signboard, then nodded.

Patricia almost choked on her own breath. She felt her heart stop beating for a second. The big boss had asked her dozens of questions about Micah, hundreds even, and demanded regular updates. He even asked for photos. What would happen if he found out Micah had just offered a ride to another handsome man?

No, absolutely not!

She forced a polite smile. "The production team will arrange rides for the staff. I am sure they’ll arrange something for Mr Ilyas, too."

Micah draped an arm around Ilyas’s shoulder. "Nah. It will be easier if we drop him off. Then, thanks for today, Ms Patricia. We’ll get going."

He didn’t even give her time to protest.

He just dragged a stunned Ilyas toward the back parking lot, where Clyde’s car was parked.

Patricia’s face turned pale. She watched the two men vanish from sight, screaming in her mind. She couldn’t exactly stop the big boss’s partner. She couldn’t strong-arm him. And she definitely couldn’t snatch Ilyas away and not look like a crazy woman.

She paced around, chewing on her fingernail. Then her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and let out a long sigh of relief.

The big boss had relieved her from her duties for the day.

"Thank God..." she muttered, clutching her chest.

Without hesitation, she packed her things and ran away from the crime scene.

She was sure that poor young man, Ilyas, would be finished.

Meanwhile, Ilyas froze the moment he stepped out of the building and saw Clyde.

The man leaned against the car door with an air of cold authority, his tall frame casting a long shadow under the dim parking lot lights. His eyes were sharp and assessing, like he could see straight through someone’s life in three seconds.

Ilyas stiffened.

Micah, oblivious to Ilyas’s uneasiness, grabbed the door handle and slipped into the passenger seat.

Ilyas swallowed hard, nodded politely at Clyde, and opened the back door. When Micah mentioned a friend would pick them up, Ilyas imagined someone around their age. A casual student guy.

Not this. Not a man who looked like a CEO straight out of a boardroom.

Ilyas took a seat in the back, sitting so stiffly it was like he was afraid even breathing too loudly could cause trouble. His hands hovered above his lap awkwardly, unsure where to land. He kept shifting his feet, moving them closer together, then further apart. He was really out of his element.

Clyde glanced at Ilyas through the rearview mirror. His eyes weren’t hostile, but they were intense. Deep in thought. Calculating. His mind was wandering about how to prevent the tragedy that would fall on this man. It affected Micah, too. Even if he monitored Micah 24/7, if something happened to this young man, the harm was done anyway.

Micah, unaware of both men’s thoughts, started rambling about the shooting. He laughed, gesturing with his hands, then grumbled about his shoulders hurting. He talked and talked, filling the quiet car with his bright energy.

Of course, he knew where to draw the line. He carefully avoided mentioning the manager or the new entertainment company in Ilyas’s presence.

He turned to Clyde mid-sentence and caught him staring at the young man sitting behind. Micah froze. The words got stuck in his throat. Why did Clyde focus on him?

His stomach twisted.

A hot rush of jealousy boiled inside him. What the hell? This bastard was looking at another man! Right in front of him?

Micah’s eye twitched violently.