Chapter 96: Back to the Old House

Emerald’s POV

"Your cousin, Miss Vera Hugo, is dead," the man announced.

For a moment, I could not breathe. My heart seemed to skip before suddenly pounding hard against my chest.

I stared at the man in front of me, but his words refused to settle in my mind. Vera was dead?

My thoughts scattered in every direction, and I found myself unable to form another question.

"How did she die?" was the only thing I managed to ask.

The three men exchanged a brief look. "We were not given those details, Miss Hugo."

I had no other words left. My mind was already struggling to understand what I had just heard.

Vera had always been difficult with me. She had never hidden the fact that she disliked me, and we had never shared the kind of relationship that would make me mourn her as a close friend.

But she was still family. And she was Grandfather’s special granddaughter, the one he had always favoured and held in particularly high regard.

How could someone like Vera simply be dead?

It had not even been that long since her wedding. Almost a month had passed, and now she was gone.

I stood there in silence, unable to make sense of it. The room around me seemed strangely distant as my mind kept circling the same thought.

Vera Hugo was dead.

One of the men finally spoke again, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Miss Hugo."

I glanced at him.

"We need to leave now. The jet is waiting."

"The jet?" I asked. They had sent a private jet?

"Yes. Your grandfather wants the entire family gathered in Washington as soon as possible."

I took a slow breath, but my heart was still pounding. "Let’s go."

---

We were already in the air when one of the men noticed that my phone was dead.

He handed me a charging cable, and I connected it to the phone before leaving it on the small table beside my seat.

I leaned back and stared through the window, but my mind kept returning to the same words I had heard at the dormitory.

Vera Hugo was dead.

I still could not make the reality of it settle properly in my mind.

After several minutes, my phone finally vibrated. I picked it up and watched the screen come alive.

There were three missed call notifications. I frowned. This was strange.

I remembered hearing my phone ring once before Michael stopped me from going to the guestroom to get it. After that, I had been too occupied with everything that happened to pay attention to my phone.

So how had I missed two more calls?

I looked at the call log. The first call was from my younger sister, Giovanni. The other two were from my father, Richard Hugo.

My younger sister hardly ever called me, which immediately told me that she had probably already heard about Vera.

I stared at her name for a moment before opening my father’s message.

It was exactly the kind of message I expected from him.

He told me that people had been sent to bring me back to Washington because Vera had died and the family was holding an emergency gathering at the old Hugo family house.

Reading the words made my heart accelerate again.

A sharp pang went through my chest. I lowered the phone and closed my eyes for a moment.

Vera and I had never been close. Still, death was different. There was something unsettling about knowing that someone I had seen alive not long ago was now gone.

I took a slow breath and looked at my phone again. Then, the thought of Michael came almost immediately.

I opened WhatsApp and sent him a message.

I told him that Vera Hugo was dead and that my family had sent a private jet to bring me back to Washington for an emergency family gathering.

I also told him that I was not sure how many days I would be away, but I would keep him updated.

I stared at the message for a few seconds after sending it before placing the phone down.

There was nothing else I could do from the jet, so I turned toward the window again.

Washington was waiting for me, and whatever had happened to Vera was waiting there with it.

---

By the time we landed, the sun had begun to sink lower in the sky.

The three men escorted me directly from the jet.

There was no unnecessary stop along the way, and I understood from their urgency that my grandfather wanted everyone back at the estate as quickly as possible.

The drive to the old Hugo family house was quiet.

I had visited the estate countless times over the years, but as soon as we passed through the gates, I noticed something was different.

There were more security vehicles than usual.

Several unfamiliar men stood around the property, dressed formally but watching everything with the alertness of trained security personnel.

More cars filled the driveway than I expected, and people were moving in and out of the house with subdued expressions.

It did not feel like a normal family gathering.

The moment I stepped through the front doors, the atmosphere became even more apparent.

The house was unusually quiet despite the number of people inside.

Family members stood together in small groups, speaking in low voices. Staff members moved around carrying flowers, trays, and other things needed for the gathering.

Someone was giving instructions near the staircase while another person was speaking quietly into a phone.

Then I saw Vera’s photograph. It had been placed prominently in one of the main rooms, surrounded by flowers.

I stopped for half a second. The sight made everything feel more real.

Yesterday, Vera had been alive. Now her photograph was sitting in the middle of the family home while everyone prepared for her funeral.

I looked away. I did not feel the kind of grief that would come from losing someone I had loved deeply.

Vera had made sure there was always a distance between us, but she was still my cousin. And she was still grandfather’s proud granddaughter.

That fact made her death feel even more significant.

My grandfather had always held Vera in particularly high regard. Whatever disagreements existed among the rest of the family, nobody questioned that.

Everyone in the room was dressed in black. I looked down at myself. I was the only person wearing a different colour.

I had not even had the time to change into a black gown. The moment the men arrived at my dormitory, I had barely managed to pack a few things before following them out.

With everything happening so quickly, mourning clothes had been the last thing on my mind.

A few family members glanced in my direction. I ignored them. Then my mother walked toward me.

Her brows were drawn together, and the moment she reached me, her eyes travelled over my clothes with obvious disapproval.

"Why are you dressed like this?"

"I didn’t have time to change," I explained. "They came for me and told me we had to leave immediately."

Her frown deepened. "Couldn’t you have at least brought something black with you?"

I said nothing.

"What do you want the rest of the family to think?" she continued. "Vera has died, and you are standing here dressed as though nothing happened. You should at least observe the mourning properly."

I did not bother explaining myself again.

If the circumstances surrounding this gathering had been different, I might have told her about Paul Walker.

I might have told her what had happened to me and why I had arrived at the family house without having the time to think about what I was wearing.

But this was not the time.

Before my mother could continue, my father walked over.

"Dad," I greeted.

His eyes settled on me. "Are you all right?"

I slowly nodded. "Yes."

There was something comforting about hearing the concern in his voice. At least my father knew how to ask whether I was okay without turning it into another lecture.

I appreciated that more than I wanted to admit. My mother loved to nag, but my father simply asked.

"Dad, do you know how Vera died?" I inquired.

He sighed quietly. "No. The details are still unknown. The police will be here later to brief the family."

I nodded slowly.

He looked toward Vera’s photograph before speaking again. "It is unfortunate. She died barely a few weeks after getting married. Her death has shocked the entire family."

My heart skipped. Barely a few weeks after getting married.

I looked at Vera’s photograph again and swallowed. "What about her husband?"

Before my father could answer, my mother spoke. "Go and offer your condolences to your uncle first."

I turned toward her.

"Then find yourself a black dress and change. Your grandfather will be here soon," she finished.

I understood the implication immediately.

She did not want me standing in the middle of the family gathering dressed differently from everyone else when my grandfather arrived.

I quietly excused myself. "Excuse me."

I walked away without saying anything else.

I could feel the eyes of several family members following me as I crossed the room, but I ignored them.

Right now, I had something more important to do. I needed to find Uncle Dante.