Skylar Becomes the People's Salvation
Skylar Blackwood's POV
The moment Chris left the chamber, the air changed. His presence always weighed like a crown pressed on all our heads. But now—it was gone.
And the weight shifted to me.
I stood at the center, all eyes on me. Christiana—silent, watching for the first command. Classic—leaning back, arms folded, mind already calculating outcomes. Amara—expression unreadable, probably four steps ahead of us all.
They were all waiting.
"Initiate Operation Solace," I said without hesitation. "Open the communication lines to Sectors 32 through 41. No suppression yet."
Christiana raised an eyebrow. "So we're negotiating with rats now?"
"We're not negotiating," I said coldly. "We're feeding them. Let them believe their voices matter. Give them a direct channel to BNN. Let them vent, scream, demand."
Amara tilted her head. "And what do we do with that data?"
I smiled.
"We study it. Every voice. Every complaint. We log their anger, trace their patterns. And then we silence them… permanently. But only after we've dissected their hope."
Classic gave a soft chuckle. "Chris was right. You're playing the long game. They'll worship you for giving them freedom—then curse your name when it turns into chains."
"Exactly."
I walked to the holo-map, zooming in on Sector 35—one of the loudest regions.
"Stage a fake 'People's Committee'. Let it appear organic. Plant a leader—someone charismatic, broken, desperate. Feed him scripted victories. Then burn him as a traitor when he starts to believe he's real."
Christiana smirked. "Poetic."
I turned to her.
"Deploy your Sentinels. Disguised. No uniforms. I want them listening, blending, turning friends into spies. No one in the lower sectors should trust their own shadow."
"And what about the auction?" Amara asked.
"We move it up. Two days. Drop starting prices by 60%. Let them think we've heard their cries. Then raise renewal fees after six months. Make them pay for every breath of status."
I looked at the screen again. So many lights. So many voices. All about to be silenced by their own applause.
Chris had handed me a crown dipped in fire.
And I would wear it with ice in my veins.
"Let them love me," I whispered to myself, "So they never see it coming when I take everything away."
I turned back to my siblings.
"Prepare the stage. The Empress of Hope is ready to speak."
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