The Almighty Dominance

Ten minutes later, Charles emerged, a chillingly composed smile etched onto his handsome face, his attire immaculate once more, betraying no hint of the destructive storm he'd just unleashed.

But beneath his polished exterior, Charles burned with an insatiable hunger for revenge.

He had to triumph this time—especially considering the astronomical losses he'd inflicted upon his mother due to the failed SkinDews venture, which had bled nearly half a billion from their coffers.

Charles knew he had to act fast; his financial lifeblood was slipping away.

Pulling out his sleek phone, Charles quickly dialed one of the managers from Kingston.

His voice was coldly decisive, leaving no room for hesitation: "That offer you gave me—I'll accept. Meet me immediately in the meeting hall."

The voice on the other end responded hastily, anxiety apparent. "Right away, sir. I'm coming to you."

A few moments later, a lean, cunning-faced man with narrow eyes approached Charles, bowing obsequiously.

It was Hans, the fox-faced manager of Kingston Pharmaceuticals.

From a discreet distance, Alex watched warily, sensing the sinister conspiracy brewing between the two men whispering furtively in the shadowy corner.

Yet Alex could effortlessly read their lisping speech and understand every word they meant to say.

Hans leaned in close, his voice a cautious whisper dripping with discontent.

"Sir, our new chief has gone completely mad. For products barely a few points below standard, he's ordered thousands of perfectly good boxes destroyed. You wouldn't believe how much inventory we've wasted this month alone, simply because of his obsessive need to impress Miss Jasmine."

"How many exactly?" Charles inquired sharply, his eyes narrowing greedily at the possibilities unfolding before him.

Hans hesitated briefly before answering softly, "About ten thousand boxes, sir. Elixir Vitae, our high-profit product-though the company insists on discarding those hundred thousand bottles, calling it a negligible loss, we employees see clearly that this chief has no real business sense. He only cares about impressing Jasmine Kingston."noveldrama

"That's exactly why I call you Sir-you're far better than Jasmine, no doubt about it. You understand this better than anyone else."

Charles's eyes shimmered with the cold glint of ambition. "Tell me, just how substandard are these batches?"

Hans leaned forward, voice low and quick.

"Hardly at all, sir. If our top-grade products score a solid nine on quality, these would be an 8.9—maybe a seven at the very worst. Still highly effective, no real danger or concern."

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck before admitting, "The only issue comes from slight temperature inconsistencies during production. The machines sometimes swing a few degrees off the standard. That's what causes the dip in potency. But the medicine itself? It works. It still works damn well."

Hans's expression twisted with frustration.

"But that damn chief? He's impossible. Won't give us an inch of leeway. Tosses out perfectly usable stock over the tiniest flaw-just to look good in front of Jasmine. It's not about quality anymore-it's about showing off. We're trying to make money, and he's too busy stroking his ego."

He leaned in, voice hushed but sharp.

"Now, here's the opportunity. We can offload these 'imperfect' batches to you- quietly, no paperwork-for just ten percent of their retail price. You flip them, you're looking at ten times your return. Easy profit. No one has to know."

Charles's mind raced rapidly, greed fueling his thoughts. Ten thousand boxes- such potential profit was staggering, irresistible.

His lips curled into a predatory smile; finally, fortune was within his grasp again, ripe for exploitation.

A few minutes later.

The auction had already begun, and Charles strode anxiously toward Clara's side, his face tense with barely restrained frustration.

"How's the meeting going?" Charles asked, voice strained with discomfort. "Sorry about stepping out earlier, family issues. Did they talk about distribution yet?"

Clara hesitated, her eyes shadowed with sympathy.

"Charles," she began softly, "it seems like they're not willing to give you a distribution license. Major markets like Los Angeles and Vermont already have competitors lined up."

Charles exhaled deeply, his frustration boiling beneath his skin.

"I just spoke with Jasmine, and you know how it goes-she listens more to Alex than she ever has to her own brothers."

"He's poisoning her against me, turning my own sister into my enemy. He's hell- bent on throwing me out of my own family."

His voice faltered, shoulders slumping under the emotional weight.

"Ever since Alex entered our lives, the Kingstons haven't been the same. I swear, sometimes it feels like I'm the only sane person left in this whole twisted circus.”

"What did I ever do wrong, Clara? Why does Alex despise me? I got close to Sophia, yes—but Alex already has Jasmine. Why must he punish me and reduce me to this humiliation?"

Clara reached out, her hand gently covering Charles', warmth and understanding radiating from her touch.

"Charles, don't let it break you. You're a good man, and good men eventually find justice. Let me see what I can do. But for now, we must stay strong."

"Thank you, Clara." Charles' voice cracked slightly, vulnerability creeping into his tone.

"Let me just catch my breath for a moment."

His eyes closed briefly, allowing her to see his weariness and defeat. "I could use some water..."

"I'll grab you a bottle," Clara whispered reassuringly, stepping away toward the refreshment area, filled with complimentary beverages.

As she grasped two cold bottles, another hand brushed unexpectedly close to hers.

"You're with Charles, aren't you?" a low, cautious voice asked.

"Yes?" Clara turned slowly, sizing up the man before her.

"I'm Hans, marketing manager for Kingston," he explained quietly, his voice edged with genuine concern.

"I've seen what's happening to Charles, and it isn't right. Jasmine and Alex are treating him terribly. And you are...?"

"Clara," she replied, her voice cautious but hopeful.

Hans leaned in slightly, his voice dropping even lower, heavy with secrecy.

"Look, every production run we do

has an excess of about ten percent,

just as a safety margin. That

excess I can divert it to Charles.

excess

But if Jasmine catches wind of this,

we're both finished."

"Here's what propose: I'll hand the surplus stock over to you, secretly. You handle the distribution under Charles' direction. If things go well, I've heard he's promised you the CEO role for his new distribution company. So, can I trust you?"

Clara's heart raced, eyes sparking with newfound ambition.

Her pulse quickened at the idea-young, powerful, CEO. With Kingston backing

her, she'd skyrocket past every expectation set for her.

"Absolutely," she declared, voice steady with determination. "For Charles, I'd

move mountains."

Hans smiled knowingly, satisfaction flickering briefly across his face.

From his distant seat, Charles watched the scene unfold, seeing Clara's excitement clearly.

His lips curled into a subtle,

calculating smile. He'd expertly positioned himself-if anything went

sideways, Clara would take the fall,

and he would remain untouched,

untarnished.

Clever, Charles thought smugly, pride swelling beneath his carefully maintained

facade.

Very clever indeed.