The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 359

“Fuck you, Alex!” Gilbert spat, blood dripping down his battered face.

“You're just some washed-up military brat who's a bit stronger than average. Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

“You should be,” Alex growled, stepping closer, eyes locked like steel traps.

Gilbert sneered, arrogance masking his fear.

“I have enough money to bury you alive. I'll pay anyone to slit your throat, and once you're gone, I'll finish Sophia and wipe out her whole family too.”

Alex smiled coldly.

“Money?” He raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead—try to move a single cent from your accounts. If you can, I'll walk right out of here.”

Gilbert and Norman frantically scrambled to access his online banking, desperate for a lifeline.

His fingers shook violently as he tapped the screen, praying for salvation.

But the moment he saw every account frozen solid, his heart sank into an abyss.

“Impossible,” Norman whispered, eyes wide with terror. “Everything’s blocked. All of our money... it’s frozen.”

Gilbert’s expression shifted from shock to hysterical laughter.

“You’re dead, Alex! You have no clue whose cash you're messing with! Father, hurry—call General Joe! Let him know his fortune is locked away!”

Norman jolted awake from his stupor. “Yes! General Joe from Central Command! You’re finished, Alex—no one crosses him and lives!”

Hands trembling, Norman activated the screen, connecting to General Joe.

The image flickered on, revealing the furious face of a battle-scarred man, his right eye marred by a deep scar.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Joe snarled impatiently. “Why are you calling me?”

“General Joe, your money stored with us—it’s been blocked,” Norman stammered, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“What?” Joe roared, his face turning dangerously red.

“Do you idiots even understand how much of my money you're holding?”

Norman gulped hard. “Sir, we've run into trouble. Someone froze all our accounts!”

“Who the hell dares mess with my money?” General Joe slammed his fist on the table, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Him!” Gilbert shouted triumphantly, jabbing a finger at Alex. “It’s this bastard here!”

Joe’s gaze shifted to Alex, and his rage vanished instantly. His face turned pale, silence stretching painfully.

“General Joe,” Alex said calmly, lips curling into a chilling smile. “It’s been a while.”

Gilbert shouted impatiently, “General Joe, what are you waiting for? Send your men! Kill this son of a bitch!”

Suddenly, the screen went black.

“What?” Gilbert stammered, panic rising in his voice, “Father did we lose the connection? What the hell happened?”

Norman frantically tried calling again, desperation gnawing at his soul. His face turned ghostly white.

“He blocked us... General Joe blocked us.”

“What?” Gilbert snapped, disbelief crashing into horror. “That's impossible! Blocked us?”

Norman felt ice run through his veins as he stared at Alex, finally grasping the awful truth.

This man could do things no ordinary mortal should be able to. He controlled everything—their money, their contacts, even their lifelines.

Even General Joe—a man feared by prime ministers and every one—was terrified of Alex.

Norman’s eyes widened as a terrifying realization crashed down on him.

The new king, the ruler everyone whispered about with dread, was young.

Very young.

He stared at Alex in terror, whispering to himself,

“No... it can't be. They say the new king is arrogant, reckless, a spoiled playboy obsessed with women and wealth.”

“He wouldn’t be here, siding with weak and pathetic nobodies... I'm losing my mind.”

But a voice echoed softly, tormenting him with an impossible truth: “What if it’s him?”

There was no other explanation. Why else would powerful men tremble at Alex’s feet?

Norman dropped painfully to his knees, ignoring the stabbing agony, and crawled forward, desperation etched across his bleeding face.

He knelt at Alex’s feet, trembling violently.

“Please,” Norman begged, choking on his own tears, “forgive us. Spare the Guise family—I’ll be your dog, your slave, whatever you want—just let us live!”

“Father!” Gilbert screamed, outraged and horrified. “Why are you kneeling before this nobody?”

“Sir, give me justice too! My daughter was raped by this animal as well. I'm a single mother—I begged them to spare her. But not only did they hurt my daughter, they raped me too, right in front of her.”

“Then they killed her and framed me. When I went to the police, they threw me in prison for my own daughter’s death. Please, please give us justice!”

One by one, others in the crowd sank to their knees, pouring out their unbearable stories of cruelty, humiliation, and loss at the hands of Norman and Gilbert.

Norman turned pale, desperate to calm the swelling fury of the crowd.

“Please, everyone—I promise you! I'll pay for every tragedy I've caused! I'll pay you all, I swear on my life!”

“You think your filthy money can bring my daughter back from the grave?” the elderly man shouted bitterly.

Alex raised his hand, silencing them all instantly. His gaze was cold, merciless, absolute.

“These two lives now belong to all of you. Listen carefully. Don't give them an easy death. Take your time.”

“Peel their flesh off spoon by spoon. Keep them alive long enough to truly feel every bit of your agony.”

“Thank you!” came a cry from the crowd.

“Thank you, sir!” echoed another. A fierce chant began to rise, knives flashing ominously in their hands as they surrounded the two trembling figures.

Gilbert and Norman felt their hearts drop to their stomachs, blood draining from their faces. Their arrogance vanished, replaced by sheer terror.

“Please, help us!” Gilbert screamed, frantic, begging his guards. But no one stepped forward.

Alex turned slowly toward Gilbert, eyes icy with contempt. “Remember, Gilbert—all of this started the moment you touched Sophia.”

With a sudden burst of rage, the old man lunged forward, dragging Gilbert roughly into a chair.

Others rushed to help, quickly binding him tight. The crowd lined up, kitchen knives glinting dangerously, vengeance burning hot in their eyes.

“Everyone gets one spoonful of flesh,” someone shouted. “One at a time—start from somewhere non-lethal.”

“Let’s take a piece of his foot first,” another growled.

“I’m a doctor,” a middle-aged man stepped forward coldly, eyes hard and unforgiving. “I’ll keep him alive. I’ll show you exactly which veins to avoid.”

“Don’t forget his father!” another voice shouted, grabbing Norman roughly.

Norman shrieked hysterically, panic flooding his veins. “Please, someone help me!”

A voice shot back mercilessly, “You never lifted a finger when we begged you for help—you deserve none now!”

As the knives began to close in, Norman and Gilbert screamed, their pleas drowned out by the merciless roar of vengeance.