POV: Chris Blackwood — The Emperor
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She thought she was out.
Almost made it through the thick steel doors of the Imperial War Room. Almost.
But Chris's voice cracked through the air like lightning.
"Christiana Blackwood... repeat what you just said."
The guards at the door froze. The hallway itself seemed to stop breathing. Christiana paused, her heart pounding like war drums. She hadn't expected him to hear her. Not with his back turned. Not with that monstrous empire of information always at his fingertips.
But of course he heard her.
He heard everything.
She turned slowly, jaw tight. "It was nothing," she said flatly.
Chris's eyes locked onto hers, dark and burning. He stepped forward with that signature, effortless authority—like gravity bent around him.
"You dare lie to me in my palace?" he snapped. "You think I built an empire by ignoring whispers in the shadows? You think I let even the wind speak without my permission?"
She said nothing.
His voice lowered, dangerous.
"Say it again. Out loud. Let the walls bear witness. Let the record of this room etch your defiance into history. Say it—if you can."
Christiana's fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. She could feel every eye, every camera, every hidden microphone bearing down on her.
Finally, she spoke.
"One day… I'll be more than your enforcer, father."
The silence was suffocating.
Chris stepped forward until their faces were only inches apart. His aura crashed against her like a tidal wave—powerful, crushing, unforgiving.
"You think ambition makes you powerful?" he said, his voice deep, calm, lethal. "You think a dream makes you a queen? I built this world with my hands, Christiana. I carved it from the bones of old empires. You wear a title I created. You live in palaces I designed. You walk freely because I command it."
His voice turned cold. Final.
"You will never be more than what I allow you to be."
He stared at her for another long second… and then turned his back again.
"You may go."
She didn't move.
"And Christiana," he added without turning, "if you ever whisper rebellion again—don't whisper it near my throne."
She bowed stiffly, lips pressed tight, and walked out. Not a single word. But deep in her chest, something dark and hungry stirred.
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