Amara's POV
I didn't knock.
I stormed into the imperial chamber, my boots echoing like thunder across the black marble floor. The guards hesitated—then wisely backed off. They knew better than to step between me and Chris when I was like this.
He sat, throne bathed in icy blue light, calm as ever. Almost too calm.
"You summoned?" he asked, without even glancing at me.
"No," I snapped. "I came because I have a problem."
He didn't flinch. "Skylar?"
"Don't play that tone with me, Chris." I took a step closer, voice rising. "She's making speeches. Undermining you publicly. Building sympathy. She's gathering the poor to her side. You gave me the order to watch her—but not touch her."
"And?"
I scowled. "Are you still in support of her? Because I want to clip her wings before she flies any higher. One more public stunt like that, and she'll have half the empire questioning your authority."
Chris stood now, slow and deliberate, every movement soaked in power.
"Skylar is still my wife," he said coldly. "And she is still Number 02 of the empire. No one touches her but me. Not even you, Amara."
I stared at him, stunned—not by the words, but by the conviction in them.
"You're being weak."
"No." His eyes sharpened. "I'm being strategic. Let her talk. Let her gather her sympathizers. Let her feel powerful. When the time is right, I'll break her."
"But by then—"
"I said no."
His voice cracked through the chamber like a whip. Silence fell, thick and suffocating.
I clenched my jaw. "So be it. But don't expect me to babysit her while she poisons your empire."
He turned back toward the imperial projection, dismissing me without another word.
I didn't move for a long time. Rage burned in my chest—but not just at Skylar anymore. For the first time, I questioned…
Who exactly was Chris protecting? The empire?
Or her?