Amara POV
I couldn't breathe.
He stood there—alive. Unbroken. Not just back... but returned with the presence of a god. The man I had thought lost, mourned in private silence, and replaced with power… was now right in front of me. And the nation was roaring his name like a chant from the heavens.
Chris Blackwood.
He turned to me—his eyes darker than I had ever seen.
They weren't filled with love.
Not warmth.
Just pure, sharpened steel.
> "You let my soldiers point guns at me."
The microphone was still live.
The nation heard it.
The council heard it.
I heard it.
I swallowed hard. My mouth opened—but no words came.
> "I want all the names of those soldiers," he added coldly, "every last one. And don't bother dismissing the gathering. It's not over."
That was when it hit me—he was never lost. This... this had been a test. Of loyalty. Of power. Of the empire.
Chris stepped forward—closer. Not touching me. Just close enough for his voice to hit only me now.
> "You think I didn't notice the armored vehicles? The silent threats? The forced silence? You think I needed a parade to return? No. I needed truth. And what I saw from you today... hurt me more than exile ever could."
I stood there, fists clenched behind the veil of my dress.
I wanted to explain.
To remind him that I held the empire together.
That I made decisions in a storm of chaos.
That I did what I thought he would want.
But he didn't care for explanations. Not now.
He turned to the crowd again, back straight, hands behind his back.
> "Let no one move. Let no one leave. This gathering remains in session until I, Chris Blackwood—Blackwood One—dismiss it. And when I speak next, I will speak of betrayal, of loyalty... and of consequence."
Then, he walked past me.
Just walked past me—as if I were a stranger.
And I stood there…
Drowning in silence.
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