Darcy stared at the young man in front of him. He thought bitterly that he was losing control again. Losing himself to this foolish fake heir. He had tried to push him away, but Micah clung like gum on his soul, impossible to peel off.
"Micah!" Darcy's voice cracked with restrained anger. "I am not joking right now. I can't stand this pretentious kindness of yours. If you're planning to…"
Darcy's voice died down the moment he saw tears. Why? Why was he crying? And worse… why did his heart ache at the sight?
He had seen Micah's tears a thousand times before. He knew what they could do, how easily they disarmed people, how quickly they drew sympathy. That was his weapon, wasn't it? That's how he seduced those four men in his past life. With tears, with fragility, with that helpless act that made everyone around him want to protect him, to cherish him.
