Michael’s POV
My Monday mornings rarely differed from one another.
Routine had long become a necessity rather than a preference. It kept distractions away and ensured every hour of the day served a purpose.
At six o’clock sharp, I was already running through the private trails surrounding my estate.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp grass and pine after the previous night’s rain. Ordinarily, running emptied my mind.
Today, it did not.
My thoughts returned to the woman from Saturday evening. Emerald Hugo.
I frowned almost imperceptibly. That, in itself, was unusual.
Over the years, I have met countless people. Politicians. Billionaires. Royalty. Celebrities. None of them lingered in my thoughts after our meetings ended. Yet two days later, I could still see Emerald Hugo’s face.
The panic had come so suddenly that most people in the ballroom missed it. I had not.
The moment she grabbed the champagne bottle, I knew she was no longer acting out of anger. She had stopped thinking clearly.
Had I not intervened, the consequences would have been disastrous. She would have been facing assault charges, civil lawsuits and severe media outrage by now.
Her life, already collapsing, would have become infinitely worse.
Helping her had been irrational. I rarely involved myself in matters that had nothing to do with me. Still, my body had moved before logic could interfere.
That bothered me. More than that, it made no sense.
I slowed my pace as another question rose to the surface. How had a woman from a family like the Hugos failed to notice the man beside her was unfaithful?
Emerald did not seem unintelligent. If anything, everything I had heard about her suggested the opposite.
Had she been careless? Too trusting? Or had she seen the signs and chosen not to believe them?
Before I could follow the thought any further, a soft chime sounded through my wireless earbud. An incoming call.
I stopped running and answered. "Good morning."
A pleasant female voice answered at once. "Good morning, Mr. King. I hope I’m not disturbing you. This is Rachel Cliff from Lanard Business School."
"I remember."
"I wanted to let you know that your office and apartment have been prepared according to your specifications. May I ask when you expect to arrive for the new semester?"
I glanced at my smartwatch. "Most likely Friday."
"Wonderful."
"My assistant will confirm the exact time."
"Of course, sir. Thank you very much."
The call ended.
I released a slow breath and removed the earbud. Lanard Business School. I had almost forgotten.
Several months earlier, the dean had invited me to teach executive strategy and corporate acquisitions.
I refused at first. But they kept asking. In the end, persistence achieved what persuasion had not.
For the next two years, I would be spending part of each week in Boston. It would complicate my schedule considerably, yet I had agreed.
I resumed jogging toward the house. There was no reason to keep thinking about Emerald Hugo. I had more pressing matters waiting.
An hour later, I stepped out of the residence dressed for work.
The sedan was already waiting outside. Xero stood beside the rear passenger door. The moment he saw me, he inclined his head respectfully before opening it.
"Good morning, Alpha."
"Morning."
I settled into the back seat while Xero closed the door, then took the front passenger seat. The chauffeur pulled away from the estate.
As always, Xero opened his tablet.
"You have the board meeting at nine. Investment review with the Singapore division at eleven. Lunch with the..."
I adjusted my tie and listened in silence. The car radio murmured in the background, its volume already lowered before I entered.
"...the country’s economic growth continues to exceed projections..."
I paid little attention to it. Then the next report began.
"...shares within the Hugo Group fell sharply following Saturday night’s scandal involving heiress Emerald Hugo..."
The commentator’s voice shifted almost immediately from business reporting to gossip.
"...sources claim..."
I frowned. "Turn it off."
The chauffeur reacted instantly. And once more, silence filled the car.
I loosened my tie slightly. For some reason, it suddenly felt tighter than before. "Xero," I called.
"Yes, Alpha."
"Find out which media house aired that report."
"Understood."
I looked out the window. Why that report had irritated me, I couldn’t explain. Perhaps because sensationalism disguised itself as journalism far too often. Or perhaps for another reason.
I chose not to dwell on it. Instead, I looked toward Xero. "Did you complete what I asked on Saturday?"
"Yes." He picked up a thin file from beside him. "I looked into Miss Emerald Hugo." He handed the file toward me. I accepted it but made no move to open it.
Xero continued. "She isn’t Richard Hugo’s biological daughter."
That finally drew my attention. "Go on."
"She was already ten years old when her mother, Ivana, married into the Hugo family. Very few people know that."
Interesting.
Xero continued. "Surprisingly, Darius Hugo accepted her into the family register and raised her alongside his other grandchildren."
I looked down at the unopened file resting on my lap. That explained one inconsistency, but it created several more.
Darius Hugo was known for being ruthless, calculating, and uncompromising. He was not a man who made sentimental decisions.
Accepting a granddaughter who shared none of his bloodline did not fit the man I knew. He would have been praised for tolerating only that marriage.
"Everything else is inside the file," Xero added.
I rested a hand on the folder. "It is unlike Darius."
"It is."
"He has spent his entire life treating the Hugo family like an empire." I looked through the window once more. "Men like him rarely make exceptions."
The car moved steadily through the morning traffic. For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then another thought surfaced. "Any news from the old residence?"
Xero understood at once. He shook his head. "Nothing yet." Then he turned slightly. "Would you like me to look into it?"
I considered it only briefly before shaking my head. "No."
The answer surprised even me. Whatever judgment Darius Hugo had passed on his granddaughter no longer concerned me.
At least, that was what I told myself.