CHAPTER 561: BLINK TWICE IF KIDNAPPED

The afternoon sun hung low behind the engineering building, casting long golden bars across the pavement. Fallen ginkgo leaves crunched under Micah’s shoes as he walked across the campus, humming under his breath. His mood was bright; fooling Emile and even gaining leverage over him, life was good.

At least until he spotted Darcy up ahead.

The boy stood under a maple tree, head bowed, expression dark. The wind tugged at his hair, blowing a stray leaf onto his shoulder. Darcy didn’t even react, just stared at his phone like someone had texted him a death sentence.

Micah’s smile froze. His steps quickened. Something was wrong.

"Hey," he called, breath puffing white in the crisp air as he approached. "Is something wrong?"

Darcy jolted slightly, as if he’d been yanked out of his thoughts. He lifted his head, and just like that, the grim look softened.

"No," he said, voice gentler now. He shoved his phone into his pocket like he was hiding evidence. "Just some annoying text messages."

Micah gave him a look. "Annoying like... the forum post? Did they find you or something?"

Darcy didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for the breakfast bag Micah offered, grabbed it, and started walking toward an empty bench nearby. The trees around them rustled in the breeze, speckled sunlight flickering over the wooden seat as Darcy dropped down and opened the container.

"No," Darcy said at last. "I wish it were that."

Micah sat beside him, stunned. "More serious than that? What could be worse than random strangers tracking you down?"

Darcy ignored the question for a moment. He lifted a crepe slice, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully. The warm smell of eggs and fresh fruit drifted toward Micah.

"It’s your sister, Willow," Darcy finally said.

Micah blinked. "Huh? Since when did you two get close? No, wait, why are you calling her annoying?"

He opened his own container and poked around for the soft bun he’d been craving.

Darcy swallowed before answering. "I messaged her to ask about something. But she started pestering me to go to the company."

Micah nearly choked on his bun. "Is it about what you saw?"

Darcy glanced sideways. "Yeah."

Micah groaned dramatically and slouched back against the bench. "You should’ve asked me first. Willow has... one flaw. Once she’s locked onto something, she’s unstoppable."

Darcy paused, glancing at Micah. His understanding of Willow had surpassed him, the one who had worked with her for over seven years in his past life. That was such a surprise.

"Mmm, you are right."

Micah stuffed the rest of the bun into his mouth and said around it, "Anyway. You’re coming with me this weekend. You ate her cooking. That means you are bound to repay her. There’s no escape."

"I don’t need blackmail," Darcy said, laughing. "I was planning to go anyway."

Micah froze mid-chew, then slowly reached out and grabbed Darcy’s face.

Darcy’s eyes widened. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Micah demanded. "Did you hit your head? Did my mum put something in your food? Blink twice if you’ve been kidnapped."

Darcy gently pulled Micah’s hands off. "Calm down. You were right. I need protection. And if I’m claiming my place at Ramsy Corporation, then I need to do it officially." He watched Micah closely. "You’re okay with that, right?"

Micah stared at him, stunned.

"What?"

"I said I’ll do what you told me," Darcy repeated.

Silence.

Then Micah’s eyes lit up like fireworks. "Seriously?! You’re not joking?!"

Darcy shook his head, looking at him like he was the insane one. "You’re so weird. Who gets excited about handing his inheritance to someone else?"

Micah launched himself forward and hugged him. "Ah! You jerk! Why are you mocking me? I’m gonna be your older brother from now on!"

Darcy shoved him away immediately. "Go away! Brother? What brother? I’m keeping my own family name. And you know your position will get awkward once I join the company, right?"

Micah flicked Darcy’s forehead. "Don’t worry about me. I never planned to step foot there. I belong in fabrics, glitter, and scissors...not boardrooms. And honestly, my reputation in high society is so bad that the label of fake heir will be a good one among the rest."

"What do you mean?" Darcy asked, confused.

In his past life, Micah was beloved by all. Everywhere he went people were praising him, even though he was not cut out for the business world.

Micah shrugged. "I am infamous now. A trashy heir. Arrogant. Wasteful. Troublemaker. You name it."

Darcy was taken aback. "Huh?"

That made no sense. Why was it so different from the Micah he knew from his past life? What had changed?

Micah straightened the edge of his coat and looked at him. "Why are you so surprised?"

Darcy shifted in his seat, frowning. "Why has your family done nothing when your reputation is so bad in high society? I don’t get it."

Micah paused. The wind blew across the lake, ruffling his silver hair. Then, he shrugged. "Oh... well. I am mostly to blame. I don’t want to join the company. That is my older sister’s dream. Not me. So when the rumour began to spread..."He hesitated. "I asked Grandma to block rumours from reaching my family. And no one is foolish enough to say that to my family’s face."

Darcy frowned. "Still... they should have heard something!"

"I know," Micah said quietly, "But...I wasn’t a perfect son. Or perfect heir. I did whatever I wanted, thought it was my life. Totally immature. They didn’t have anything to work on to boost my image. And since Willow lives for the company, I didn’t want to fight her."

Darcy lowered his gaze. The autumn wind tugged at his bangs. Something heavy shifted in his chest.

"Anyway, the competition is now between you and Willow," Micah added.

Darcy cracked a small smile. "What side are you on?"

"Whoever deserves it," Micah replied. "No favouritism."

Darcy hummed. "If you favour me, I’ll call you big brother."

"Nice try," Micah said, flicking a strawberry into his mouth. "I won’t fall for that."

He checked the time on his phone. "I have class. At least text my mum before she thinks you’re avoiding her again."

Darcy waved him off. "Fine. I’ll do it. Leave."

Micah grinned, hopped off the bench, and headed toward the fashion building. Leaves swirled around his feet as he went, his mood noticeably lighter.

*******

The rest of the classes dragged by in a blur of fabric swatches, pattern drafting, and his professor obsessing over seam tension. By late afternoon, the sky had turned an even deeper shade of gold, and the temperature dropped enough to make the windows fog slightly.

Micah packed up, slipped on his coat, and left the building.

As expected, Emile was leaning against the campus gate like an overly loyal bodyguard, scrolling his phone with the seriousness of someone monitoring stock prices.

"Let’s go," Micah said, amused, and they walked to the parking lot together.

Clyde’s black car was already parked there, polished enough to reflect the red and orange leaves overhead. Micah opened the door and slid inside, warmth washing over him from the heater.

"Hey," he said cheerfully. "Did you wait long?"

Clyde, sitting behind the wheel, shook his head. "No. I had a meeting nearby." Then, he glanced at mute Emile in the back seat. "What’s wrong with you?"

Emile sat stiffly, back straight, like he’d entered the army. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even greet Clyde.

Micah smirked. "He’s sulking because you made him do free labour."

Emile opened his mouth to protest, but Micah cut in quickly. "You don’t need to be shy. Your uncle isn’t stingy. What do you want? Go on, say it."

Clyde shot Micah a side-eye, sensing this silver-haired boy was stirring up trouble again.

"Emile?" Clyde asked.

Emile hesitated, looking between them like he was debating whether to speak or jump out of the moving car later.

Micah leaned back, smiling sweetly. "What did you do that he can’t say anything?" he took a jab at Clyde. He turned around, looking at Emile. "Okay, remember I said before that I’ll compensate you? This is it. We’re shooting an advertisement for Ramsy’s new product. I can introduce you to the director. What do you say?"

Emile’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "Really? You’re going as... producer?"

"Huh? No," Micah said proudly. "I’m the main actor."

Emile stared at him as if Micah had claimed to be the Prime Minister. "My uncle let you?!" he shouted.

Micah snorted. "Why does everyone react like that?!"

Emile pointed an accusing finger at Clyde. "Little uncle! You’re so mean!"

Clyde rubbed his temple. "If you want to be an actor, you can join his company."

Emile gasped. "Company? What company? You....you started an entertainment company?!"

Micah winced and covered his ears. "Hey! Stop screaming, you’ll kill my eardrums."

"No! Why didn’t you tell me?!" Emile demanded.

Micah immediately pointed at Clyde. "It was your uncle’s doing."

He threw dry wood into the fire, fanning the flames.

Clyde glared at him.

Emile collapsed dramatically against the seat. "This is not fair..."

Micah burst into laughter, delighted.