The Almighty Dominance

Alex stood silent and still, watching Ophelia weep inconsolably over David's motionless body.

Suddenly, David's eyes fluttered open, startling everyone nearby. Gasps rippled through the stunned crowd, disbelief etched across every face.

"Impossible," a bewildered customer muttered. "I saw him take that bullet right in the chest!"

"David!" Ophelia's voice trembled with hope and disbelief.

"Are you alright? Is this real?"

David stared down, incredulous, pressing his hand against his chest.

Blood stained his shirt, the fabric torn and wet, but beneath his fingertips, there was just a small wound.

The bullet had pierced his clothes and skins but stopped short, leaving only a superficial injury.

"Am I...bulletproof?" David whispered, astonished.

Across the room, Alex leaned casually against the table, his lips twisted into a subtle, knowing smirk.

At the very instant Luther had fired his weapon, Alex had silently channeled his protective aura, wrapping David's body in an unseen shield.

Though the impact had been violent, the bullet had lost its deadly force, leaving only superficial damage.

The paramedics arrived swiftly, bewildered to find David conscious, suffering nothing worse than a shallow gash.

Still, they carefully placed him onto a stretcher, administering treatment.

Ophelia clung to his side, relief and lingering terror breaking fresh tears loose from her eyes.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," she whispered, her voice raw and shaking.

David reached up gently, tracing her tear-streaked cheek. The memories flooded back-her beauty, their shared pain, their years apart.

"Ophelia," he said firmly, his voice full of renewed resolve.

"I've been given another chance. This time, I'll make everything right."

They embraced fiercely, holding tight to each other, bound by relief and renewed determination.

Across town, Charles drove Luther swiftly toward the Morgan mansion.

Pulling into the grand entrance, Luther leaped from the vehicle and demanded of the butler, "Where's my mother?"

Before the butler could respond, Brian and several bodyguards charged forward, tackling Luther roughly to the floor.

"What the hell are you idiots doing?!" Luther roared, struggling against their grasp.

"My father already dead! I'm your boss now! Let me up!"

Brian leaned in coldly, pinning Luther with contemptuous eyes.

"Your father just called-he said you tried to murder him."

"My father...he's still alive?" Luther gasped, shock freezing him in place.

Brian nodded grimly. "Yeah. Very much alive."

Charles, recognizing the looming danger, didn't hesitate.

He vaulted back into the car, slamming the accelerator. Tires screeched as he bolted toward the gate.

"He's making a run for it!" Brian shouted. "Close the gate!"

But Charles smashed the car straight through the iron barrier, metal shrieking as he escaped into the night.

An hour later, Charles guided the battered vehicle toward a secluded estate, one Luther had revealed as the family's hidden refuge.

Remembering Luther's instructions, Charles swiftly entered the password to the mansion's safe, uncovering stacks of cash and a neat pile of gold bars. He shoved everything into a backpack, muttering to himself, "This will do."

With his newfound fortune secured, Charles sped away from the mansion, memories of his last conversation with his mother echoing sharply in his mind.

"Charles, your father won't help," she'd told him days earlier.

"He said you've angered someone powerful. Lay low, and money will find you eventually."

Charles had laughed bitterly. "Lay low? How long can anyone live without money?"

"Patience, Charles," she'd pleaded.

"Your father's public disownment is just theater. He hasn't cut you from the inheritance. Stay quiet and it'll all blow over."

Charles gritted his teeth, clarity cutting through his anger.

The problem wasn't his mother, nor anyone else it was his father.

Albert Kingston, weak and foolish, had favored his sister jasmine and even outsider Kelly instead of him.

A wicked smile curled across Charles's lips as a dark realization took root.

His true enemy had always been one man: his own father.

Eliminate Albert Kingston, and the governorship of Los Angeles-the vast fortune

and power that came with it-would all belong to him.

Charles's laughter filled the car, chilling and sharp.

He knew every detail of his father's routine, every vulnerability, every habit.

Killing Albert Kingston would be simple.

Charles tightened his grip on the wheel, determination hardening his gaze.

Soon-sooner than anyone could imagine-his father would breathe his last breath. And not a soul would suspect the truth.

No one would ever guess that the killer was his own blood.

"But before that," Charles' eyes darkened, his voice low and venomous. "I need the final piece of the Emerald Elixir. And the only way Alex will ever let it go... is if someone dangerously close to him is on the line."

He leaned forward, his tone a threat wrapped in silk.

"Sophia."

Soon, the city plunged into darkness, neon lights painting the night club in vivid shades of sorrow and temptation.

Sophia hunched alone in the corner, drowning herself shot by shot, her eyes glazed with hopeless despair.

Beside her, Megan watched helplessly, anxiety carving lines across her youthful face. She'd never seen Sophia unravel this completely, stripped raw of her usual fearless authority.

Sophia had abandoned her fierce front, ignoring calls, emails, and responsibilities, letting herself spiral recklessly downward.

Word around town was that Alex was the cause, and Megan wondered bitterly if any man was truly worth this destruction.

"Please, Ms. Lancaster, you've had enough. Let's go home your mother's frantic."

Megan's voice shook with desperation, her hand lightly touching Sophia's trembling shoulder.

Sophia shrugged her off, laughing bitterly, harsh and brittle like broken glass. "Leave me alone, Megan. When I drink, everything fades away."

She threw back another glass, feeling the fiery burn dull the crushing pain in her chest.

Sophia was lost-caught in a storm of family demands and aching regret over Alex.

She knew she'd judged him wrongly, yet her pride refused to bow.

She couldn't bear to face him and risk seeing the coldness in his eyes, so instead

she chose numbness, hiding behind the comfort of alcohol.

A titan in boardrooms, Sophia was reduced to nothing but a frightened woman,

too stubborn to make the first move, silently begging for Alex to bridge the painful distance she'd created herself.

"Sophia. Finally found you." Charles's voice cut smoothly through the haze of music and chatter as he strode confidently toward them.

Megan leaped to her feet, relief flashing across her face. "Thank goodness, Mr. Kingston! You have to stop her—she'll harm herself drinking this much!" Charles flashed Megan a reassuring smile. "Get her some water, Megan. I'll handle this."

Relieved, Megan quickly vanished into the crowd, unknowingly leaving Sophia completely vulnerable.

Charles leaned close, his voice low and deceptively gentle. "Sophia, talk to me. Why are you torturing yourself like this?"

Sophia shot him a glare dripping with disdain, her words slicing sharply through the noise. "Mind your own business, Charles. Get away from me."

His expression darkened instantly, his eyes blazing dangerously. Every humiliation. he'd endured, every slight hed' silently swallowed,

erupted within him. Fury surnet

uncontrollably, and before he realized what he'd done, his clenched fist slammed brutally into

Sophia's face.

Sophia's head snapped back, her consciousness slipping away instantly. Shenoveldrama

crumpled against the sofa, utterly helpless.

Charles towered over her, breathing

heavily, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "Who the hell do you think you are, speaking to me

like I'm trash? I've lost everything, but will never lose my dignity-not

to you!"

He quickly straightened himself, forcing calm into his features just as Megan returned, her eyes widening in shock at Sophia's limp form.

"Mr. Kingston, what's wrong with Ms. Lancaster?" Megan's voice trembled, worry etched deeply into her expression.

Charles turned smoothly, the darkness in his eyes replaced by practiced warmth.

"She's just had too much to drink. Don't worry—I'll get her home safe. Her family's worried sick."

"Thank you, Mr. Kingston," Megan whispered, her voice shaking slightly as she helped Charles lift Sophia carefully from the sofa.

"Charles, maybe I should come with you. Sophia doesn't look good," Megan hesitated, genuine concern evident on her face.

After placing Sophia gently into his car, Charles turned to Megan, a sudden

hunger flickering in his eyes. Before she could say another word, he leaned in swiftly and kissed her deeply, catching her off guard.

Pulling back slightly, he murmured seductively, "Not tonight, darling. But tomorrow night-let's make it special. How does that sound?"

Megan blushed deeply, nodding shyly. "Alright."

As Charles drove away, a twisted smile curled his lips. Megan watched helplessly, unaware she'd just entrusted Sophia to the devil himself.