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The festive atmosphere in the ballroom was shattered as a loud slap echoed across the hall. A gasp rippled through the guests as the dignified Duke Charles, known for his wealth and military connections, raised his hand and struck a staff member who had accidentally bumped into him while carrying a tray of champagne flutes.
The staff member, a young man in his twenties, stumbled back, his face flushed with shock and embarrassment. The slap was swift, and the room froze in disbelief. All eyes turned to the Duke, who stood with his chest puffed out, his expression one of irritation and superiority.
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Duke Charles: "Watch where you're going, fool!" His voice was harsh, dripping with disdain.
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The staff member, humiliated and trembling, tried to apologize, but the Duke waved him off dismissively, as if the young man's existence meant nothing to him. The guests around them murmured, unsure of how to respond to the scene unfolding before them.
Chris Blackwood, standing at the head of the room, had been watching the incident closely. His face was unreadable, but there was a flicker of anger behind his eyes. Duke Charles may have been a respected noble, but such behavior was unacceptable in the Blackwood Empire. His authority over the people, the empire, and his own guests could not be undermined.
Chris turned to his daughter, Christiana, his voice low but firm.
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Chris Blackwood: "Christiana, handle it. Now."
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Christiana, ever the composed figure, did not flinch at her father's command. She understood the gravity of the situation. A slap in public, especially during a celebration as important as her father's birthday, was a direct insult to the empire's honor. She could not allow such disrespect to go unchecked.
With measured steps, Christiana moved toward the center of the room where Duke Charles stood, still glaring at the young staff member who now cowered under his gaze. Christiana's eyes were cold, her voice steady and commanding as she approached the Duke.
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Christiana Blackwood: "Duke Charles, I suggest you reconsider your actions. This is the Blackwood Empire, and such behavior has no place here. You will apologize to this man, or you will leave this gathering immediately."
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The Duke's eyes narrowed as he turned to face Christiana. He was used to being in control, used to having people bow to his will. But there was no denying the power in Christiana's voice. She was not just the daughter of the ruler; she was the future of the Blackwood Empire.
For a moment, Duke Charles hesitated, his pride bristling against the command of the woman before him. But he quickly realized that refusing her could have dire consequences, not just for him but for his standing in the empire. The Blackwood family's wrath was something that could not be ignored.
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Duke Charles: "I... I apologize," he muttered, though the words were laced with reluctance. He turned to the young staff member and gave him a curt nod. "There. Satisfied?"
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Christiana did not flinch at his tone. She had expected nothing less than forced words, but that was enough—for now.
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Christiana Blackwood: "This is not about satisfaction. It's about respect. You will remember that the next time you step foot in my father's presence."
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With that, Christiana turned on her heel and gestured for the staff member to follow her. The young man, still shaken, quickly scurried after her, leaving Duke Charles standing there, his pride wounded but his reputation intact—for now.
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Chris Blackwood (POV):
Chris had watched the exchange with a calm gaze, but inside, a storm was brewing. His daughter handled the situation with the precision and authority he expected from her. She had shown the Duke that the Blackwood family would not tolerate such behavior, no matter who you were.
He nodded to himself, satisfied with how Christiana had managed the incident. His empire was built on respect, loyalty, and discipline. No one, not even the highest-ranking noble in the land, could escape the rules of the Blackwood Empire.
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Chris Blackwood: "Good. That is how it's done."
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He glanced at Duke Charles, whose face was now flushed with anger, but Chris wasn't concerned with his feelings. The message had been sent loud and clear. Respect was non-negotiable.
Chris turned back to the ballroom, where the atmosphere had once again shifted. The guests, though still murmuring amongst themselves, returned to their conversations and festivities. But there was a certain tension in the air now, a reminder that even in the grandeur of the Blackwood Empire, there were lines that could not be crossed.
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Classic's POV:
Classic stood off to the side, his eyes lingering on the scene. He had seen the power of the Blackwood family in action time and time again, but this… this was different. Christiana's authority was clear. Even the Duke had to bow to it, despite his own arrogance.
For Classic, the moment was a reminder of just how far the Blackwoods had come and how tightly they held the reins of power. His place in this empire was still unclear, but moments like these made it crystal clear: power was not just given—it was earned, fought for, and maintained with an iron fist.
As the staff member was escorted away, Classic couldn't help but think about the cost of power. One slap, one decision, and the balance of respect and loyalty was tipped. The Blackwood Empire wasn't just about wealth or titles; it was about control.
And Chris Blackwood had it all.