The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 291

Charles stormed down the dim hallway to his apartment, each furious step echoing with raw indignation.

But as he pressed his palm to the sleek electronic lock, the red flash mocked him like a bitter slap in the face.

"What kind of twisted joke is this?"

Charles snarled through clenched teeth, slamming his fist and kick repeatedly into the door.

An ear-splitting alarm wailed to life, shrieking betrayal through every inch of the pristine corridor.

The manager emerged quickly, flanked by two burly security guards whose hardened faces showed no recognition—only grim authority.

“You! Manager!” Charles spat venomously, stalking toward him. “What’s your damned name again?”

“Josh,” the manager replied coolly, his tone unsettlingly steady. “Been running this place for ten years now, sir.”

"Yeah, but what’s the point in remembering a name that means nothing to me? Fix This!"

Charles' eyes narrowed dangerously, confusion and anger twisting his handsome features.

This spineless creature had always bowed and scraped in decade, barely daring to breathe without permission—now the worm stood tall, back rigid, defiance dripping from every syllable.

“Why the hell are you just standing there, you useless bastard? I can’t even get into my own damn apartment! Is your pathetic system fried, or are you just too brain-dead to do your damn job?”

Charles barked viciously, thrusting an accusing finger into Josh’s chest.

Josh took a measured breath, meeting Charles' furious gaze without flinching.

“I’m sorry, sir—but remind me, who exactly are you?”

A red haze clouded Charles' vision, disbelief mixing with explosive rage.

“You miserable, worthless sack of garbage—I’m Charles Kingston! I own every damn brick and tile in this building, and I’ll see you thrown onto the streets!”

Josh smiled, a cold, mocking curve of his lips.

He stepped back as the guards moved forward, their expressions void of sympathy.

“Funny, isn’t it? I know every Kingston who matters—and you ain’t one of them. You’re a nobody, Charles. And nobodies don’t belong here.”

Charles lunged at him, snarling like a wounded beast, fists raised to wipe away Josh’s insolent smirk.

“You arrogant little insect, how dare you threaten me in my own building?”

But the security guards surged forward, batons slicing through the air like judgment, mercilessly cracking against his ribs.

Pain ripped through Charles' body, humiliation burning hotter than the bruises already forming beneath his designer suit.

“All of you filthy rats—you're dead! Every last one of you!”

Charles howled, spittle flying from his lips as the guards hauled him roughly toward the exit, tossing him into the dirt like trash.

On the pavement outside, Charles staggered upright, eyes blazing with raw hatred.

He shook his fists toward the towering glass façade, screaming in defiance, voice hoarse with bitter fury.

“Alfred Kingston, you worthless bastard—you think tossing me aside like garbage makes you powerful? I swear to God, you'll regret the day you ever challenged me!”

Blood trickled from a split lip, but Charles wiped it away roughly, determination hardening into something cold and ruthless.

He glared fiercely at the gleaming Rolex encircling his wrist—two million dollars, just enough to build an empire strong enough to crush Alfred into dust.

That damn monster was not his father anymore!

With a final venomous glance at the towering symbol of his humiliation, Charles turned sharply, marching away with the swagger of a man who would not be broken, who refused to die quietly in the shadow of giants.

He lifted his gaze to the unforgiving heavens, a sneer curling his battered mouth.

"You fool," he whispered bitterly, eyes heavy with disgust.

"When will you learn humility? You're waging war against God himself. You'd better start praying—you've got nothing else left."

Charles's battered body convulsed in helpless agony.

His muscles screamed, bones aching, vision blurred through a haze of pain and rage.

The thug leaned in closer, his voice dripping poison and disdain, spitting directly onto Charles's bloodied face.

"You ungrateful bastard. Heaven gave you everything, yet you spit on it and chase hell itself. You've got nobody to blame but your own damn greed."

As the footsteps receded into cold silence, Charles trembled, breath ragged and hollow, fury surging like molten iron in his veins.

"What crime did I commit by striving for greatness?" he growled through bloodied teeth, the raw edges of his voice trembling in defiance.

"I was born a Kingston—I was destined for power and riches. Who dares deny me that right?"

He forced himself upright, each step a torment, but his pride stubbornly defiant.

"Even if the entire world seeks my destruction, I'll never bow down! I don't need your mercy, your pity, or your God! I'll rise again, stronger and unstoppable. I will not be humbled!"

Charles staggered forward, his heart hardened, bitterness etched deeply into his soul.

Alone, battered, stripped of everything—his arrogance the only thing left unbroken.

Blinded by his sick obsession with power, too damn proud to see the grace he pissed away, he dragged his broken body into the ruthless night—driven by hate, pride, and a thirst for vengeance.

He still believed he was righteous, even as his soul bled. And he would never forgive those who dared stand in his way.

“Alfred… when I catch you, I’ll rip the pride from your throat and grind your face into the dirt. Maybe—just maybe—I’ll let your worthless carcass breathe a little longer, just to watch you suffer.”