The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 487

Estoria, a few days ago.

Sophia Lancaster — or Sophia Montclair— sat at a lavish dinner table across from a handsome man. His suit was spotless, his watch glittered under the warm lights, and every move he made screamed one thing:

He was trying too hard to impress her with money.

Sophia felt nothing. Not even a spark.

When she used to struggle for money, men like him seemed fascinating — polished, wealthy, a target.

But now that she had power, status, and more money than she ever imagined, she realized how hollow it all was. Everything felt staged. Everything felt fake.

Only one thing ever felt real.

Alex’s smile.

There was honesty in it. Warmth. A softness that reached his eyes. Even when he had nothing, he still gave her everything he could.

Care. Kindness. A love so sincere it frightened her.

‘The towers chant my name, yet none hear the ache beneath it.

The crowds applaud, yet my heart remains a solitary moon.

Only he once understood my soul…

and now he drifts beyond my reach.’

And after losing him, she tried to fill the void. She tried going on dates her family arranged, meeting men from every corner of Estoria.

She tried blind dates, business heirs, military officers, politicians, even celebrities.

None of them could touch her heart.

Some men stared only at her title — Governor of Paris State.

Some chased her beauty as if she were a trophy.

Some admired the image, not the woman.

But not one looked at her soul. Not one saw who she really was.

The man across from her leaned forward. “What do you think, Sophia? I have a big yacht. Maybe we could take a private tour on the ocean?”

Sophia rose gracefully, placing her napkin on the table. “I’m sorry. We’re not a good match.”

“But we haven’t even tried!” he protested, reaching out.

She had already turned away.

When he attempted to follow, two of her bodyguards stepped in, blocking him with cold professionalism.

“The Governor made her position clear,” one guard said evenly. “You and her will not be friends. Don’t push it. The door is closed.”

Sophia didn’t glance back. She walked straight to the private lounge.

Inside, Lyra Thompson was already there — alone, drunk, and singing into a microphone with all the heartbreak in her lungs.

Lyra looked up when Sophia entered. “Done with that lucky guy?” she asked, carrying her drink over.

Sophia took the glass, downed it in one smooth swallow, and collapsed onto the sofa. “I’m done with the guy. Any guy. I swear, I’m finished. I’m not marrying anyone. Ever.”

Lyra set the microphone down and sat beside her. Her voice cracked immediately.

“I miss Alex,” she whispered — then burst into tears, raw and aching.

Sophia had learned this pattern over the last three years. Every time Lyra remembered Alex, she broke down.

She cried like her heart was being ripped apart. And Sophia finally understood why.

Lyra truly loved him.

“He’s dead, Lyra,” Sophia whispered with a tired sigh.

“Dead?” Lyra snapped, eyes blazing. “Even if every human on this planet dropped dead, he would be the last one standing.”

“Come on, Lyra. You know that’s impossible.”

“What’s impossible?” Lyra fired back. “He was basically invincible.”

A sudden flash appeared from the corner of the lounge — a cluster of breaking news banners.

Sophia lifted her hand, and the screen expanded with a gesture.

Jasmine Kingston was holding a press conference, her expression sharp and unyielding.

“You know,” Lyra muttered, watching the screen. “That woman used to be a year or two younger than us. Three years ago she dressed in all pink — sweet, soft, brilliant.”

“Yes.”

“And smiled at everyone?”

“Yes.”

Lyra leaned closer. “What happened to that girl? Now she looks like she grew up overnight. Cold. Calculated. Like she’d kill anyone who got in her way.”

Sophia shrugged. “Power.”

Lyra nodded. “Makes sense. Give a woman enough power and problems, and suddenly pink becomes ‘murder black.’”

“Or heartache,” Sophia murmured, her voice softening as she remembered how deeply Jasmine had loved Alex.

On the screen, Jasmine’s voice cut through the speakers — firm, controlled, and burning with conviction.

“Everyone knows Bella Kent — the Governor of Vermont — has pushed this country’s technology forward, helped our nation leap beyond its limits, and made Estoria stronger.” Jasmine paused, her jaw tightening. “But I still refuse to support a war with Prussia.”

“Well,” Lyra muttered, swirling her drink, “she and Bella have been at each other’s throats for years. Water and fire. They’ll never mix. And don’t even get me started on the King. These past three years he’s done nothing but hide in his palace and chase women while the governors break their backs running the country.”

“Would you support a war with Prussia?” Sophia asked.

“Hell no.” Lyra snorted. “Prussia is already a fully modern nation. Our tech has improved, sure — but a war against Prussia? We’d get crushed. Not yet, at least. What about you?”

“I still have too much to fix in Paris. I don’t have time for pointless wars.”

They both looked toward the screen again.

A reporter was questioning Josephine — the Governor of Columbia, newly elected two years ago — about the rising tensions with Prussia.