The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 318

The father sprinted desperately toward his young boy, eyes wild with fear and tears streaming down his face.

As he reached his son, his heart nearly stopped—the pavement was scarred by bullets, each hole barely a hair's breadth from his son's fragile body.

“He's alright, honey!” he shouted, relief shaking his voice. “She missed—our boy is safe!”

He clutched his wife tightly, their bodies trembling in shared gratitude.

“What?” Clarissa shrieked in disbelief.

Fury surged through her veins, and she raised her gun again, merciless eyes locked on the helpless child.

Instantly, the father shielded his son, spreading himself protectively. “If you're gonna kill my boy, you'll have to go through me first.”

Clarissa sneered viciously. “Fine by me. Cleaning out trash is always a pleasure.”

She squeezed the trigger without hesitation.

The father clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself for the piercing pain. But instead of death, a violent explosion erupted from Clarissa's gun.

The weapon shattered spectacularly, hurling shards of hot metal directly into her face and body.

Clarissa screamed—a raw, agonized cry—as the burning shrapnel sliced into her skin and eyes, sending her reeling to the ground.

The crowd erupted into satisfied murmurs.

“Serves the bitch right.”

“Instant karma never misses.”

“That's divine justice!”

Henrietta’s face twisted in panic and anguish. She rushed to her mother's side, frantically grabbing her shoulders. “Mom! Mom, can you hear me?”

Clarissa writhed on the ground, shrieking in pain. “Help me! My face—my eyes! God, the pain!”

Desperation surged through Henrietta. She spun to Bobby, terror filling her voice. “Bobby, do something! Help her!”

Bobby darted toward Alex, urgency in his voice. “Doctor, hurry up! If anything happens to Madame Clarissa, you'll all pay with your lives!”

Alex glanced calmly toward Clarissa, studying the damage coolly as blood seeped from countless lacerations across her face.

With clinical detachment, he said, “Relax. She’ll last another two hours at least—nothing fatal.”

Bobby's eyes flashed with rage. “You bastard! You'll regret this! Your family is finished!”

Ignoring the threats, Alex swiftly returned his attention to the wounded child.

With steady hands and sharp timing, he treated the boy’s wounds swiftly—just in time to catch the critical golden window for trauma care.

Moments later, the wail of sirens cut through the air as the ambulance pulled in.

Bobby didn’t wait. He practically dragged the paramedics toward Clarissa, barking commands and threats using the Montclair name as a bludgeon.

Intimidated, the medics hastily loaded Clarissa into the ambulance, speeding off toward the hospital.

A second ambulance arrived moments later, gently carrying the boy and his relieved, grateful parents away from the nightmare.

The father clasped Alex's hand firmly, tears of gratitude filling his eyes. “Thank you, Doctor. You saved our son. We won't ever forget this.”

Alex nodded silently, watching as they vanished down the street.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to his car, a shadow of frustration darkening his face.

He had just arrived in Chicago to visit Kingswell’s branch, yet already the city's dark underbelly had revealed itself—the arrogance, cruelty, and entitlement of Chicago's ruling families were plain as day.

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