Chapter 411: The Unseen Hand

Christiana Blackwood

The palace had changed.

Power shifted like sand beneath our feet, and my mother now sat on the throne. Some welcomed her leadership, while others whispered that Classic had been too slow to claim what was his.

But I wasn't worried about them.

I was worried about Ethan.

Something about him was different. Sharper. More focused. He was always calculating, but lately, it felt like he was working toward something unseen—something only he knew.

And that made him dangerous.

I watched him from across the hall, speaking with a group of officials, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Always listening. Always watching.

I needed to know what he was up to.

Ethan Carter

The Prime Minister had grown too comfortable. Too bold.

With Skylar on the throne and Classic hesitating to make a move, the man had positioned himself as an untouchable force.

He was wrong.

I had been quietly gathering everything I needed—hidden deals, financial records, proof of corruption. But evidence alone wasn't enough. I had to dismantle him carefully, piece by piece, without raising suspicion.

Because if I made the wrong move, people would start asking who had the power to orchestrate his downfall.

And that was a question no one could afford to answer.

Chris was gone.

At least, that's what the world needed to believe.

Christiana Blackwood

I moved toward Ethan, stepping into his path before he could disappear. "What are you planning?"

He barely glanced at me. "You should be asking Classic that, not me."

I folded my arms. "Classic isn't the one moving in the shadows. You are."

Ethan smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then maybe you should stay out of the shadows, Christiana."

I narrowed my gaze. "This is about the Prime Minister, isn't it?"

He didn't confirm it, but he didn't deny it either.

Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths.

And then I asked the question I had been dreading.

"…Is my father behind this?"

Ethan's expression didn't change. His stance didn't shift. But something about him froze.

It lasted less than a second, but I saw it.

And then, just as quickly, he let out a short breath—half amusement, half exasperation. "Chris Blackwood is dead, Christiana. And the world is moving on."

It was the perfect answer. Too perfect.

I studied him, but Ethan was impossible to read.

I wanted to believe him.

I needed to believe him.

But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that Chris Blackwood wasn't done playing his game.