The Almighty Dominance

"Honey," Jessica whispered shakily over the phone, her voice cracking like ice under pressure.

"You've never raised your voice at me. Not once. What the hell is going on?"

Alfred's voice shot back, low and sharp through the line.

"You want the truth, Jessica? Your damned generosity turned Charles into a monster. And if we don't pull him back now, we're the ones who'll pay the price." Jessica gasped, her breath catching. "But he's our son, Alfred-our only son!" "Exactly!" Alfred snapped, voice boiling over.

"And if you don't shut off the money, the next time we see Charles, it'll be in a goddamn casket!"

Jessica's voice rose, shaking with fury.

"How dare you, Alfred Kingston! You never gave a damn about him! Your heart was always with Jasmine!"

"You're the great governor-so act like it and protect your son for once in your miserable life!"

There was a pause, then a growl from Alfred as he paced.

"Governor?" he snarled into the receiver. "That title doesn't mean jack when Charles is poking the hornet's nest. He's tangled with men who'd wipe us off the map and sleep like babies."

Jessica's voice wavered. "What did he do? Alfred-what the hell did he do?"

Alfred's breath hitched. Then his voice dropped to a dark, brutal whisper.

"He crossed a line no man should touch. They're giving us one chance-cut him off, completely. Or we all burn."

"You're lying," Jessica said faintly, clutching the phone like it might steady her. "That can't be true-"

"You remember Texas?" Alfred spat, his voice low and deadly serious.

"The governor's grandson stepped out of line, and they made him watch as they butchered his own son and grandson. All because of that boy's damn mistake. And if the Texas governor had dared to stop it, he'd be dead too. That's exactly what's happening to us now!"

"Do you want that fate for Charles? For you and me?"

Jessica's breath hitched, horror sinking in. "Are you... are you serious, Alfred?" "Dead serious," he said, cold as winter steel.

"If you can't trust me now, maybe it's better you walk. I won't let your softness be the death of us."

"Go to hell, Alfred!" she shouted through the tears, voice cracking like a whip.

"I warned you,” Alfred said, every word sharp as a blade.

"Keep spoiling him, and he'll take this entire family down with him. You'll be dead -unless you leave me. Otherwise, I'll go down, and so will every last Kingston. And if you choose to protect him, make damn sure your whole family's ready to burn in hell with him."

The line went dead.

Across the city, buried in the grim silence of an abandoned factory swallowed by decay, Charles paced impatiently among machinery and scattered medical supplies stolen from Alex's clinic.

His arrogant gaze scanned the debris, contempt radiating from every movement.

Around him, a crew of haggard thugs rummaged through shattered crates and ruined shelves, sweat pouring from their brows, dirt staining their calloused hands. "Come on, hurry it up!" Charles snapped.

"Every single herb you find earns you a hundred grand. Surely you cretins can manage something as simple as that?"

One thug—a towering brute with a shaved head-wiped sweat from his face and glanced warily at Charles.

"Sir," he began, keeping his tone careful and measured, "we've torn this damned place apart. There's nothing here-nothing like what you're asking."

"Impossible!" Charles spat viciously, eyes narrowed, lips curled in a sneer.

"Keep looking! Or are you bastards too lazy to earn your keep?"

Exasperated, the bald leader stepped forward, speaking with forced gentleness, masking disdain behind careful courtesy.

"Sir, we've torn this dump apart. Maybe the doc stashed it somewhere else— everything we grabbed so far's been a damn waste."

Charles's eyes flashed dangerously, jaw tightening, as fury crept into every line of his arrogant face.

He stepped closer, eyes locked with the thug's wary gaze. "You'd better pray you're wrong, because wasting my time is a mistake no one makes twice."

Charles' palm cracked across the boss's face like a whip, echoing sharply into the tense air.

"Are you fucking deaf? I told you to look harder!" Charles snarled, his voice trembling with rage.

"You idiots want to get paid or not?"

His fury burned white-hot; no matter how desperately he clawed at life, nothing ever turned in his favor.

The boss stiffened, his eyes flickering with barely contained rage as he swallowed the insult and barked at his men.

"You heard him. Tear through everything-he's paying for it."

But just then, Charles' phone buzzed violently in his pocket, and as if

novel?

cue, his driver and bodyguard glanced at their screens

simultaneously.

Without a word, they exchanged uneasy looks and swiftly retreated to the car.

Charles watched in disbelief as the vehicle roared away, leaving him utterly abandoned.

"What the hell?!" Charles shouted, stunned. "Hey, where the fuck are you going?"

His trembling hands fumbled the phone open, only to find a storm of notifications flooding the screen.

His blood froze, eyes wide in horror-the nightmare had returned, darker and more merciless than ever.

Every single account he owned flashed red: blocked, frozen, inaccessible.

Charles' face paled to a ghostly hue as panic surged through his veins.

He glanced anxiously at the thugs, still busy tearing the things apart.noveldrama

He turned, desperate to slip away unnoticed, but the boss's gaze had been locked on him since his getaway vanished.

A heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder, halting him abruptly. "And where exactly

do you think you're sneaking off to?"

"I need air," Charles mumbled weakly, attempting to brush him off.

The boss grinned cruelly, tightening his grip "Nice try, rich boy. Maybe you wanna explain why your muscle just left you stranded like a wounded pup?" .

им

"Just...a misunderstanding," Charles stammered. Sweat beaded down his temples. "They'll be back."

The boss laughed, sharp and mocking.

"Is that so? Funny, ain't it? How about this-you fork over that fifty grand you promised us first. Then you can stroll wherever you want."

Charles swallowed hard, throat dry as dust.

"I'll pay you when you find that damn herb," he lied, heart pounding with panic.

He was bankrupt, stripped bare of every penny he owned.

"Nice story," the boss sneered, eyes narrowing dangerously. "But I ain't buying your bullshit."

In a flash of desperation and rage, Charles drove his fist into the man's jaw, sending him sprawling backward.

Chaos erupted instantly.

Before the stunned thugs could react, Charles bolted into the darkness, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.

"Grab that bastard!" someone shouted, their voices echoing behind him, savage and bloodthirsty.

Charles sprinted, lungs screaming for air, legs aching fiercely, yet he didn't slow.

Bottles shattered at his feet, shards

grazing his skin as stones and

curses flew past him. One thug lunged, clawing desperately, but Charles swerved, striking back

wildly, never losing momentum.

He felt blows slam into his body, tasted blood as it filled his mouth, but still, he surged forward, driven by blind terror.

Hours later, battered and gasping, Charles collapsed in a dim alley, safe for now.

Trembling fingers pulled his phone from his pocket again, dread pooling in his gut

as the notifications resumed their merciless assault.

A bold headline blazed across his screen, merciless and cold:

"Charles Kingston Officially Disowned by Alfred Kingston; Left to Face Consequences Alone."

Charles' heart twisted violently, nausea rising sharply in his throat.

Frantically, he dialed his mother's number, the one lifeline he'd always clung to.

But the call refused to connect, rejected instantly.

Blocked.

For the first time in his life, Charles Kingston was utterly, devastatingly alone.