The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 474

Alex was stunned for a moment. He couldn’t believe this woman still had the nerve to taunt him.

He nodded slowly. “Of course. Of course.”

Alrun turned with a triumphant smile, certain that her taunt had finally shut him up. In her mind, Alex was still the same pathetic dog from Rosenheim—loud when he barked, but crawling back the moment she snapped.

“Mr. Ernest,” Alex said suddenly. “Did you know Miss Alrun here is my friend?”

Ernest blinked, caught off guard. “Miss Alrun… you’re Mr. Saint-Claire’s friend?”

“Yes! Yes!” Alrun blurted, almost tripping over her own words. “Alex and I were great friends for three years!”

That was all Ernest needed to hear.

“Well then… starting today,” he declared without a second of hesitation, “you will take over as the General Manager of the entire Imperial Amber Houses.”

It was a massive jump—four tiers in a single breath. A general manager’s salary, benefits, and authority were on an entirely different level. They controlled staff across multiple branches, handled high-level decisions, and held prestige most managers like her could only dream of.

Alrun’s knees nearly buckled from excitement.

“Thank you—thank you!” she said breathlessly, joy lighting up her face.

And then Alex spoke, his tone turning cold.

“Mr. Ernest, do you know what kind of ‘friendship’ I actually have with Alrun Treuburg?”

Ernest’s smile faltered. Sensing disapproval in Alex’s voice, he rushed to fix it.

“Mr. Saint-Claire, if you wish, I can promote Miss Treuburg to vice-chairman—just one rank below me.”

Alrun’s face lit up with a wide, eager smile.

“Of course! I can be an excellent vice-chairman. Honestly, I have so many brilliant ideas for running these restaurants. You’re going to love them, Mr. Chairman.”

Alex cut him off sharply.

“I’ve known this woman for three years. I thought she was a friend—at least that’s what she kept calling it. But when I truly needed help, that so-called friendship showed its real face: fake. As fake as her plastic surgery.”

His eyes hardened, “She tried to backstab me. She ordered guards to beat me. And she was ready to hand me over to Rosenheim—people who wanted me dead. And you think this kind of person deserves a promotion?”

He stepped forward. “So, Mr. Ernest, are you trying to piss me off on purpose? Because I’m getting angry. Right. Now.”

Ernest felt the blood drain from his face.

He realized—too late—that he had flattered the wrong person.

His head snapped toward Alrun, and the fury in his eyes could have burned through stone.

“You… you dare?” he snarled. Then he swung his hand across her face with a sharp crack.

“How dare you offend Mr. Saint-Claire? Did you borrow your courage from a damn lion? Do you have a death wish? If you want to die, die alone—don’t drag me and my family down with you!”

Alrun collapsed to her knees instantly, trembling so hard her teeth nearly chattered.

“Mr. Ernest—I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

Ernest’s rage turned on the guards next. They had stepped closer, confused and terrified.

“You useless bastards!” he roared, striking one of them across the face. “How dare you hit someone in front of The Imperial Amber House? Since when did we become hired thugs? We’re a damn restaurant!”

The guards paled as Ernest kept striking them.

“Boss—it wasn’t us!” one stammered. “Miss Alrun told us to beat that man! Please—we didn’t want to!”

Ernest didn’t hesitate. He kicked Alrun hard, sending her skidding across the floor.

“You ignorant bitch!” he shouted. “Today you’ll learn the price for offending Mr. Saint-Claire!”

He pointed at the guards, voice booming.

“If you’re not on her side—then beat her! Don’t hold back. Do exactly what she ordered you to do to Mr. Saint-Claire!”

Alrun screamed in terror.

“Mr. Ernest, I’m sorry! Please—please forgive me!”

Ernest’s face had turned bright red from fury.

“NOW you’re sorry?” he barked. “Where was this sorry earlier? How dare you try to lay a hand on Mr. Saint-Claire? If he begged you for mercy, would you let him go? NO! You’d drag him to Rosenheim like a dog they ordered you to fetch!”

He jabbed a finger at her.

“You better thank Mr. Saint-Claire. If not for him, I’d kill you myself!”

Tears streamed down Alrun’s face. She crawled toward Alex on her hands and knees, shaking violently.

“Get away from me,” Alex snapped, pulling his foot free. “You already missed your chance.”

Ernest snapped, fury exploding from him.

“You bitch!” Ernest roared. “If you dare bother Mr. Saint-Claire again, I’ll rip that plastic mouth off your fake face! All of you—get over here and hit her! If you refuse, you’re fired on the spot!”

The guards rushed forward and swarmed Alrun, raining blows down without hesitation.

Alrun collapsed completely, choking on sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks. “My vice chairman position!”

Alex ignored her.

He turned to Ernest, calm and composed. “Let’s talk about the booking.”

“Of course, Mr. Saint-Claire! Please—this way to restaurant!” Ernest said quickly, almost stumbling over himself to lead Alex forward.

Before stepping away, Ernest barked at the guards,

“Teach her a lesson. Don’t stop unless I say so!”

“Yes, Mr. Ernest!” they answered in unison.

Again, they rushed at Alrun, pinned her to the floor, and rained blows down on her.

Her screams echoed through the hall behind Alex, but he didn’t look back.

At that exact moment, a man in a long coat slipped past them. He brushed close to Alex, silent and unremarkable except for the faint metallic glint inside his sleeve.

The stranger pulled out a blade—thin, dark, and humming with a micro-vibration so sharp it could slice iron like tofu.

He moved with practiced confidence.

Even a seasoned martial artist wouldn’t survive that blade.

It had never once failed its mission.

The assassin brushed past Alex’s shoulder.

And then he struck.

The knife drove straight into flesh, and blood poured out instantly.