Title: The Fear in the God

Amal's POV

The message came in cold—no greeting, no warning.

"You are summoned."

By him.

Chris Blackwood. The man the world now called Blackwood One. The supreme ruler. The god in the shadows. My father-in-law.

But even gods bleed.

And when I stepped into that darkened chamber, I could smell the anxiety in the air.

He sat alone—no guards, no AI presence buzzing around him like usual. Just Chris… hunched forward, elbows on knees, hands laced tightly together. His eyes were locked on the marble floor like it was about to betray him.

He didn't look like a ruler.

He looked like a man surrounded by too much silence.

"Sit," he said.

I obeyed, wordless. My heart beat loud in my chest, but I didn't let it show. If he wanted fear, he wasn't getting it from me.

He lifted his eyes slowly. Those dark, calculating eyes that had once made nations tremble.

But now?

Now, they were searching.

"I trust you, Amal," he said, almost a whisper. "That's rare these days."

Trust? From him?

That's when I felt it.

The crack.

A single crack in a fortress of power. A tremble, so slight, it could be mistaken for wind. But I'd lived in the Blackwood Empire long enough to know—

Chris didn't tremble.

Unless he feared something bigger than rebellion.

"I called Classic," he continued. "I watched Christiana. I heard Skylar's speech. They all think I'm slipping. That I'm losing control."

His fingers tapped against the edge of his throne like a dying heartbeat.

"And are you?" I asked quietly.

His eyes narrowed—not with anger. With honesty.

"I don't know."

Those three words chilled me more than any threat he could've given.

Not I don't care.

Not I'll crush them.

But I don't know.

For the first time, I saw it.

Not a ruler.

Not a god.

Just a man too far in to turn back, too high up to trust anyone, and too haunted to sleep.

He stood and walked toward the holographic wall. Skylar's image flickered. Then Classic's. Then Christiana's.

"I built them," he said. "I built this world. And now they doubt me."

He turned back to me.

"But you... you're not them. You're not poisoned by legacy. That's why I summoned you."

"To do what?"

His voice dropped low, lethal.

"To tell me the truth. About me."

I swallowed. My next words could make or break everything.

"You're not afraid of losing power," I said slowly. "You're afraid of losing them. Of what that says about the man you've become."

His jaw clenched.

Silence.

Then, for the briefest moment, I saw it again—

Fear.

Not of war.

Not of death.

But of himself.

"I need you close, Amal," he finally said. "Not as a daughter-in-law. As a mirror."

He walked past me, and as he left the room, his final words lingered:

"Because the next time I break… I might not come back."