Amara POV*
My heart didn't beat.
It throbbed.
As Chris gave the order to cast the second vote, I didn't look at him. I couldn't. Not after he walked into the gathering dressed like a beggar and humiliated me before the entire empire. Before the world. Before our soldiers. Before my own B.A.M.
> "Now… cast your vote on my wife's reign."
He didn't even call me Amara.
Just "my wife."
A cold title. A legal binding. A distant identity.
The orbs floated down again.
Blue for yes, red for no.
Did you enjoy her reign? Did you support her rule?
I stood tall on the stage beside him, dressed in imperial black and gold, but I felt like I was naked. Exposed. Vulnerable in front of millions.
The sky was too bright.
The silence too loud.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
My mind raced:
Did they hate me?
Did they fear me more than they loved me?
Did they still see me as his wife or their tyrant?
Because truthfully… I wasn't always kind.
I gave hard orders. I crushed rebellion. I made unpopular decisions.
But I kept the empire together when he disappeared without a word.
And now they were going to decide whether I mattered at all.
The light from the voting orbs flickered across the crowd again.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Like rain. Silent judgment.
I refused to show weakness. My hands remained behind my back. My expression cold. My spine unbending.
But my heart?
It was a warzone.
Chris stood still. His eyes were locked on his private monitor. He didn't blink.
He didn't breathe.
Not a single twitch gave me a clue.
Seconds passed.
Minutes.
Eternities.
Then he turned his face just slightly toward me.
Expression unreadable.
Emotionless.
But something in his eyes…
Something in his cold, regal gaze…
I knew.
He had the results.
And now, the entire empire waited on what he would do with them.
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