From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 760: Breaking Into Your Enemies’ Meeting Like a Boss (part one)

Chapter 760: Breaking Into Your Enemies’ Meeting Like a Boss (part one)

Darcy’s fingers curled tightly into his palm until his knuckles turned pale. Without allowing himself another moment of hesitation, he pushed the door open with a firm, deliberate motion.

The hinges creaked softly in the silence. It was the same bar he had stepped into countless times before.

However, unlike those nights filled with noise, laughter, and the suffocating weight of hidden intentions, the place now stood eerily silent in the middle of the day. The absence of people did not make it feel peaceful. Instead, it made everything worse.

The emptiness amplified the memories. Every corner, every shadow, every faint scent lingering in the air carried fragments of the past that Darcy had tried, unsuccessfully, to bury.

This place disgusted him. His gaze swept slowly across the interior, and with each passing second, the images in his mind grew sharper, more vivid, more unbearable.

This was where Nora had been lured. This was where they had set their trap so carefully, disguising their cruelty beneath false promises and calculated smiles.

This was where they had used her, used her as leverage, as bait, as a tool, to force him into submission.

The memory struck him like a physical blow. He could still see it clearly.

Nora, frightened yet trying to remain strong. Himself, standing helplessly in front of those people, knowing that every choice he made would only tighten the chains around both of them.

He remembered how he had begged. The taste of humiliation rose in his throat like bile.

He had lowered himself without hesitation, throwing away every fragment of pride he had once possessed, pleading with them to let Nora go. He had told them he would stay instead. He had promised to do anything they asked. Anything.

And what had they done in response? They had laughed. They had enjoyed it.

They had taken his desperation and twisted it into entertainment, attempting to crush him completely, to strip him of dignity, to reduce him to something less than human.

Darcy closed his eyes tightly for a brief moment, forcing himself to contain the surge of hatred that threatened to break free. His breathing slowed, controlled, but the tension remained, coiled beneath the surface like a restrained storm.

When he opened his eyes again, there was nothing soft left within them. Only coldness.

He stepped forward, his movements measured and deliberate, as though each step required effort against the weight of the past pressing down on him. The floor beneath his feet felt heavier than it should have, as though it carried the echoes of everything that had happened there.

Every direction he turned, something unpleasant resurfaced.

A laugh. A voice. A moment of weakness he had once despised himself for.

This place was a monument to everything he had been forced to endure. A reminder of how powerless he had once been.

Then suddenly, he stopped. His body stilled as though an invisible force had seized him in place. A memory surfaced, sharp and unexpected.

For a brief second, confusion flickered across his expression. How... had he forgotten about that?

A quiet, almost incredulous chuckle escaped his lips, though it carried no real amusement. His hand rose slowly, covering his face as it clicked in.

Of course. Micah. Even back then... Micah had been trying to help him.

The thought felt strange, almost surreal, as it connected pieces he had never truly examined before. There had always been someone. A girl who appeared at just the right moment. The one who had helped him escape, again and again, when the situation seemed completely hopeless.

At the time, he had never questioned it deeply. He had assumed it was a coincidence. Luck. A fleeting miracle in an otherwise cruel reality.

It had always been dark during those moments, the lighting too dim for him to clearly see her face. However, one detail had remained etched in his memory with undeniable clarity.

Silver hair. That faint, shimmering strand of silver that caught what little light existed.

He had remembered that. He had wondered about it. And yet, he had never pursued the truth.

Until now. "No..." he murmured under his breath, the realisation unfolding completely. It had not been a coincidence.

It had been Micah. Micah, disguised as Asena. Micah, risking everything to help him escape.

The revelation struck deeper than he expected. Yet even as that understanding settled in, another thought followed closely behind, bitter and heavy.

It had been futile. Every single attempt to escape had led nowhere. Because in the end, he had still been taken. Kidnapped. Punished for refusing to comply.

He had refused to steal the core data, refused to become their tool, refused to betray what little remained of his integrity.

And for that... He had paid the price. But he had not been the only one. Micah had suffered as well.

Because of that same situation, because of choices that had never truly been his to make, Micah had been cast out from the Ramsy family. Banished. Blamed. Sacrificed.

Darcy’s eyes burned, a deep red hue gradually filling them as the weight of those memories pressed down on him.

They had both been wronged. Again and again. At the hands of the same four people.

Four individuals who had treated others like disposable tools, who had caused suffering without remorse, who had left scars that refused to fade.

A tightness formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. For a moment, he could not breathe. But he refused to let it show.

He swallowed hard, forcing the emotion back down, locking it away where it could not interfere with what he had come here to do.

There would be time for everything else later. Now...

Now he had something to settle. Without another word, he resumed walking.

His footsteps echoed faintly as he crossed the bar and approached the staircase leading to the second floor. Each step upward felt deliberate, purposeful, as though he were ascending toward something inevitable.

When he reached the top, he paused briefly. His gaze lowered to the screen of his phone, confirming the location.

Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and pushed the door open.

The effect was immediate. The voices inside the room stopped. Silence fell like a heavy curtain.

Darcy leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as a faint, mocking smile formed on his lips.

"Well," he drawled, his tone laced with cold amusement, "another secret gathering to mess with Micah?"

Inside the room, the reactions were instantaneous. Archie shot up from his seat as though struck by lightning, his face pale with shock.

Leo and Aidan stared in stunned silence, clearly unprepared for this sudden intrusion.

Silas, in contrast, remained seated. He glanced at Darcy briefly, his expression unreadable, before looking away as though the sight of him carried no importance.

"Why... why are you here?" Leo finally managed to ask, his voice unsteady, betraying the tension he was trying to conceal.

Darcy’s smile widened slightly, though it did not reach his eyes."Oh?" he replied smoothly. "Did I interrupt something important? Hmm or... Caught you guys at a bad time?"

Leo swallowed hard, instinctively glancing toward Aidan.

This was bad. No... This was a complete disaster.

They had gathered here under Aidan’s suggestion, believing his claim that he would handle a certain contract personally in this location.

Leo had been sceptical from the beginning. He had known Aidan well enough to understand that nothing he did was ever straightforward.

And yet, despite that doubt, he had agreed. Like a fool. Of course, there had been another motive. Of course, Aidan had been planning something.

"What’s wrong?" Darcy continued, his voice sharpening as his gaze swept across them. "Has the cat got your tongue?"

Archie shook his head quickly, visibly shaken, his words stumbling over each other. "No... that is not... we were not..."

Before he could finish, Silas stood up. His movement was calm, controlled, entirely unlike the others. He turned toward Darcy and walked forward without hesitation.

In his hand was a folder. When he reached Darcy, he extended it toward him.

"Take it," Silas said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "This belongs to you. I have nothing else of value. My life would not mean anything to you anyway."

Darcy’s gaze dropped to the folder, then returned to Silas’s face.

There was something in that expression, something cold, detached, that stirred nothing but disgust within him.

He took the folder and opened it. Looked inside.

For a brief moment, silence stretched. Then, a sharp, humourless sound escaped him. "Hah."

His expression, already cold, seemed to drop several degrees further. "Are you kidding me?" he said, his voice low and cutting.

Without warning, he threw the folder back. It struck Silas directly across the face. The edge cut just beneath his eye, leaving a thin line of blood.

And yet... Silas did not move. He did not react. He simply stood there, as though none of it mattered.

"Do you expect gratitude?" Darcy continued, his tone laced with contempt.

Leo finally snapped out of his frozen state and rushed forward, his movements unsteady.

"No, you misunderstand!" he said quickly. "You know how he is... this was not meant to..."

His words faltered, his expression twisting as he struggled to find the right explanation.

They had all been avoiding Darcy. Ever since the incident in Malayer City. Ever since they realised that Darcy remembered everything. It had changed everything. This was not how it was supposed to happen. They had planned this carefully.

The documents were meant to be delivered through a third party, a safer approach that would avoid direct confrontation.

If Darcy accepted them, then, and only then, they would approach him in person.

They would apologise. Properly. Without triggering his anger, his trauma . Without risking everything.

But now... Everything had fallen apart.

Darcy had found them here. In this place.

Of all places.

And from his perspective, there was only one possible conclusion. That they were plotting again against Micah.

A chill ran down Leo’s spine. This was worse than failure. Much worse. Because if Micah found out about this... He would not forgive them. No... Forgiveness would not even be an option. Micah would destroy them. Completely.

The thought sent a wave of dread through the room. He would not simply retaliate. He would make them suffer. Slowly. Thoroughly. As though peeling away everything they had, layer by layer.

Leo’s hands trembled slightly. This situation... Had already gone beyond repair.