The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 442

The King looked at Sofina and exhaled heavily. “You know this already, Fina. I’ve tried to give you three years. But even if I agree, your mother won’t.”

“Father,” Sofina said softly. “If you agree, nothing else matters.”

Before the King could answer, another voice cut through the line—sharp, commanding.

“I don’t agree!” Felicia said. Her mother had joined the call. “Sofina, you will marry the man I choose.”

“Mother,” Sofina shot back, her tone trembling but fierce.

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

“You’re my daughter,” Felicia snapped, her tone sharp with authority. “You will do as I say.”

Sofina met her gaze. “Father already agreed. I’m marrying Alex—and if he doesn’t divorce me within a year, he’ll become my permanent husband.”

Felicia turned toward the King and knelt, her posture dripping with false respect. “My Lord, have you already accepted Sofina’s request?”

Sofina quickly stepped in. “Father, please. This is for your daughter’s happiness. After this, I’ll never ask for anything again. If he divorces me, I’ll marry any man you or Mother choose—even an old one.”

The King of Prussia—ruler of billions, master of an empire—could command armies with a word.

But in front of his daughter, his heart softened.

Felicia was never his lover—just a vessel chosen to bear his child through artificial insemination. It was duty, not love.

The King had ordered it himself. His advisors secretly selected women to carry his bloodline and preserve his legacy. Out of nearly a hundred, only a few succeeded.

Felicia was one of them—kept hidden, bound to silence. The only one he truly cared about was Sofina—his blood, his weakness.

Felicia knew that too well. Her tone shifted—calculated, venom hidden under courtesy.

“My Lord, if Sofina insists on marrying this man of her choice, then I have one condition. She must live with my family for one year—and she cannot reveal her connection to you. Not a word.”

The King’s eyes darkened. He was the sharpest mind in Prussia, and he understood exactly what she was plotting.

Felicia would use that year to tear the marriage apart from within. She wanted her daughter married to a marquis or a count—someone with power and title. A nobody like Alex was never part of her plan.

After a long pause, his voice came low and measured. “Alright, Felicia. I accept your condition.”

He turned to Sofina, his gaze heavy. “You’ll stay with your mother’s family for one year. Only then will I agree to your terms.”

“Father!” Sofina’s voice cracked. “They’ll try everything to tear him away from me. They’ll humiliate him.”

The King gave a faint, knowing smile. “If he truly loves you, as you say, nothing will break him. And remember, we tolerated your rebellion for three years already. This is the last year I will tolerate you.”

Felicia’s smile was sharp with victory. “In three days your grandmother’s anniversary is here. You’ll come, celebrate, and stay with me and your stepfather.”

Sofina felt the trap close. Her voice was small. “I’ll go.”

The King cut across the room like a blade. “I’ll end this now, Felicia.”

He pinned her with a cold, unblinking stare. “You swore an oath. You will not tell anyone who Sofina’s real father is—understand? Not even your own family.”

Felicia dipped into a practiced curtsy, her voice honeyed and precise. “Of course, my lord. They know nothing. They think Sofina’s father was merely a wealthy benefactor.”

Her smile never reached her eyes. She wasn’t stupid—she knew what silence cost. If she blurted the truth, her whole family could be ruined, erased. She had signed the contract; blood had already sealed her tongue.

“Good.” The King’s voice was final, like a judge passing sentence. “Then she stays with you until she’s ready to reveal the truth—if she ever is.” He turned away.

The call ended.

Sofina lay on the bed in the dark, heartbeat loud in the quiet. The room smelled faintly of lemon and old books.

“Eve.”

“Yes, Miss Sofina?”

“Did you hear everything?”

“I recorded it, Miss Sofina. Every word.”

Sofina hugged Eve. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“Not a soul. Not a machine,” Eve said. “But I can sense things: your father’s genuine love for you, and your mother’s cold, surgical disdain. There’s a ninety percent chance she’ll harm you. Are you sure you can live there?”

Sofina let out a brittle laugh. “I’m not sure. I don’t have a choice.”

Eve’s voice dropped, blunt and unreadable. “Miss Sofina, may I shoot your mother if she harms you?”

Sofina blinked, a ghost of a smile crossing her face. “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

The next morning, sunlight spilled across the breakfast table. Sofina sat quietly for a moment, watching Alex gave her plate before she finally spoke.

“Alex,” she said softly, “will you come with me to my mother’s family estate? It’s important—to me, and to us. You have to.”

Alex looked up, his eyes warm. “Then I will,” he said simply, smiling as he lifted a spoon to feed her a bite.

She hesitated, voice tightening. “But they might try to hurt you. You know how much they despise our marriage.”

“Of course he did!” a man jeered. “Everyone knows he took your last coin—after you begged him for one more second with him!”

Laughter exploded around the room.

Sofina stood still, her jaw tight, her eyes glinting like glass under the chandeliers.

Inside, she burned—but outside, she didn’t move. Because that’s what they wanted: to see her break.

“By the way,” someone called across the table, voice dripping with mockery.

“Your new husband—what’s his name again? Alex Saint-Claire? Does he even have anything left from his family? I heard the Rosenheim seized all his assets. So tell us, what did he bring for Grandma?”

A hush fell over the table. All eyes turned toward Alex.

Then he spoke—calmly, clearly.

“Grandma,” Alex said, his tone firm but respectful. “I was married to Katarina for two years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days—and I’ve now been married to Sofina for three days. Together, that completes the full three years required by Prussian law. I’m asking for your approval, Baroness, to recognize me as a full Prussian citizen.”

The room froze.

In Prussia, half-Prussians weren’t allowed to own property, open bank accounts, or hold anything under their name. But if a man remained married to a Prussian woman for three years and received acknowledgment from at least one noble house—usually a Baroness—he could finally gain full citizenship.

That was what Alex was asking for.

He had endured those three years quietly, bound by law, waiting for this day. The Rosheim family had taken everything—his title, his inheritance, his land. Now he stood before the Wolfsbanes, asking for the one thing that would make him free again.

The reaction was instant and violent.

Every head in the hall turned toward him. Eyes widened, jaws dropped. The murmurs built like a storm.

“This man’s insane,” someone muttered. “Does he realize what he’s saying?”

“Alex the Dunce,” another sneered. “That’s what they used to call him, right? Fits perfectly. Half Prussian, half slave—no brains, no blood, no worth. He’s a walking error!”

Laughter rippled through the hall—cruel, sharp, echoing off the marble walls.

The Baroness’s hand trembled as she reached for a bottle of wine. Then, with a roar, she hurled it straight at Alex. The glass exploded against his head, red liquid splattering across his collar like blood.

“You dog of Saint-Claire!” she screamed, her voice shaking with fury. “You dare speak of citizenship here? You don’t even know your place!”

“What do you think people will say? What will the other baronesses call me if they find out I approved a half-slave?” the Baroness roared, her voice echoing through the hall.

“Never! Even on my deathbed, I will never give you that approval! Go—divorce my granddaughter and crawl back to the Rosenheim family. Return to your masters where you belong! Don’t you dare stand here again!”