Emerald’s POV
For several seconds, I could only stare at Michael King. Was I alright?
The question almost made me laugh.
My boyfriend had just announced his engagement to my best friend in front of hundreds of people. The same best friend who had spent the last hour helping destroy my reputation with fabricated messages, edited videos, and carefully planted lies.
By tomorrow morning, the entire country would probably know. And he was asking if I was alright?
The pressure in my chest tightened painfully.
I inhaled sharply, but the breath didn’t feel like enough. My breathing had already become shallow before he stopped me, but now it felt even harder to steady myself.
The ballroom lights felt too bright. The whispers around us seemed louder. Even the cameras flashing in every direction made my head pound.
Michael’s grip on my wrist remained firm but careful.
He simply stared at me.
While everyone else had watched me with judgment, pity, disgust, or amusement, Michael King looked at me as though none of the chaos around us existed.
Then he spoke again, his voice low and calm. "Look at me."
I didn’t even realize how badly I was trembling until he said that.
My vision had started blurring again, and my thoughts felt scattered. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding violently in my ears.
"I need you to breathe."
Something in his tone cut through the noise in my head. There was no impatience, no condescension, no pity—only a calm steadiness.
"In slowly."
I inhaled. The breath shook on the way in.
"Again."
I obeyed before I could even stop to question why.
Slowly, the tightness in my chest loosened just enough for me to think clearly again. The ballroom came back into focus; the cameras. The whispers. Kelvin. Maya.
Reality crashed into me all over again, and humiliation seared through every inch of my body.
I pulled my wrist free. The movement wasn’t graceful or composed. It was desperate.
Without saying a word, I set the champagne bottle back on the tray with trembling fingers and turned away.
I had to leave. Now.
The crowd instinctively stepped aside to let me pass. No one stopped me. No one called after me. The only sounds that followed me were whispers and camera shutters.
Even then, I refused to look back.
I was afraid that if I turned around, I would see Kelvin and Maya standing together, looking happy and victorious. And I wasn’t sure I could survive seeing that.
I pushed through the ballroom doors and stepped into the hotel corridor. For one brief second, the relative silence felt like relief. Then chaos erupted again.
The moment I stepped into the hotel lobby, reporters surged toward me from every direction.
I froze in my steps. My heart nearly stopped at the sight before me. How had they gotten here so quickly?
"Miss Hugo!"
"Emerald!"
"Are the accusations true?"
"Did you manipulate company contracts?"
"Were you involved with multiple businessmen?"
"Did Kelvin Mercer know?"
Bright flashes exploded directly in my face. Questions came so fast I couldn’t even process them.
"Miss Hugo, answer us!"
"Are the messages real?"
"Did you use Kelvin Mercer?"
Someone shoved a microphone dangerously close to my face. My breathing hitched.
More reporters pushed forward. Microphones, cameras, phones—everything was suddenly too close, too loud, and too overwhelming.
Immediately, my instinct took over. I shoved past them. "Move." Even to my own ears, my voice sounded strained.
Someone grabbed my arm, and I jerked away immediately.
"Miss Hugo!"
"Emerald!"
I started running. The shouting continued behind me as I rushed through the revolving doors and toward the parking area.
By the time I reached my car, my hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped my keys twice.
I climbed inside and immediately locked the doors. My chest rose and fell unevenly. The reporters were still outside, still shouting and recording.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly and forced myself to think. I couldn’t go home. Not tonight.
If reporters had already reached the hotel this quickly, then there was no way my home was safe. Someone could have leaked everything. My address was probably already circulating.
The realization made my stomach twist. But there was only one place left. My parents’ house.
The drive there felt like a blur. My hands remained tight around the steering wheel. My eyes burned constantly, but I refused to cry.
By the time I arrived at the Hugo estate, I felt emotionally drained.
The gates opened immediately. The staff must have informed them I was coming. I parked and stepped out of the car.
The moment I entered the house, I knew something was wrong. The atmosphere felt tense, heavy and cold.
My mother, Ivana Hugo, was already waiting in the living room.
She stood near the centre of the room, dressed flawlessly as always. Her posture was rigid, and her expression was unreadable.
My father, Richard Hugo, sat still on one of the sofas. His expression was colder than I had ever seen it.
The moment my mother saw me, whatever restraint she had been holding onto snapped.
"Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" Her voice sliced through the room.
I stopped near the entrance. My throat tightened. "Mom—"
"Don’t." Her voice rose sharply. "Do not call me that right now."
My chest tightened again as she took a step toward me and said, each word hitting like a blow, "You embarrassed yourself in front of the entire country."
"You embarrassed this family." Her eyes burned with fury. "I warned you about Kelvin Mercer from the very beginning."
I swallowed hard.
My mother let out a bitter laugh. "But no. You just had to fall in love with a man completely beneath your standards. A boy far below your league."
She sneered. "A poor, crafty, ungrateful bastard."
My hands slowly curled into fists.
"You wasted years of your youth on that boy despite every warning I gave you." She looked me over with visible disappointment. "And look at where it got you."
I remained silent. I had no strength left, but my mother wasn’t done.
"And Maya." She let out another humourless laugh. "That girl was your best friend?"
Her voice dripped with contempt. "You couldn’t even choose a decent friend. She humiliated you in front of the whole world, and you didn’t see it coming."
My throat burned. Still, I said nothing. Then my mother delivered the final blow.
"Do you even understand the consequences of tonight?" Her voice turned colder. "The Hugo name is attached to you. Our businesses will be affected."
My stomach sank. Each sentence made my chest heavier.
Her eyes hardened. "Our stock prices will drop by morning. Investors will panic. Partnerships will become unstable. This scandal will cost us."
Then, her voice dropped dangerously low. "And all because you chose badly."
Something inside me finally gave way. I lifted my head. "Why are you blaming me?" My voice came out trembling.
My mother just stared at me.
I took a shaky breath. "Why are you acting as if this is entirely my fault?"
Her eyes narrowed.
The tears burning behind my eyes grew hotter. For the first time tonight, anger overpowered humiliation.
"I came home because I needed peace," I said, my voice trembling. "The entire world is already tearing me apart, and now you’re blaming me too—for trusting the wrong person, for loving the wrong man."
I swallowed against the ache in my throat and forced the words out. "But why are you speaking as if you’ve never made that mistake before?"
Silence fell. The room became completely still, and my mother froze, her face changing instantly.
Her anger disappeared, replaced by something darker—something ugly, twisted, and threatening.
For a brief, terrifying second, nobody moved. Then her hand lifted suddenly, and the slap struck so quickly I barely saw it.
Pain surged through my face as my head jerked to the side.