The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 290

“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.

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