The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 416

“Shut your mouth! You’re just an old servant—don’t speak about things you don’t understand!” Jessica’s voice exploded through the room.

Her eyes burned with fury as she pointed toward the door. “Go! Call doctor Harris. He should be in the dining room!”

The servant bolted without hesitation.

“Damn it!” Alfred slammed his fist into the table, veins bulging on his forehead.

“She can’t die! She still has to marry Logan. She still has to secure Vancouver!”

His rage poured out like fire.

Everything he built, everything he planned—gone in an instant. It felt like the entire world was mocking him, daring to block his rise.

He wanted control. He had to win against the King, no matter the cost.

Jessica’s face twisted with panic.

“Damn you, Alfred! You knew she was fragile, yet you struck her with the strength of a man trained in martial arts! She’s your daughter, not an enemy! Who will control Vancouver now? What are we supposed to tell Logan?”

Alfred’s chest heaved with rage, spittle flying as he shouted back.

“This is her fault! She dared to insult me—her own father! She said I was lower than a dog. She deserved this! She was supposed to obey, to say ‘yes’ to every word I spoke. Since when did she think she had the right to rebel?”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Of course since she met Alex. I’ve known it for a long time. Ever since then, she’s changed.”

“She no longer listens to us. She fought her own brother. She lost all respect for this family. We should have crushed her defiance from the start.”

Her gaze fell to Jasmine’s still body on the floor. “What if she’s already dead?”

Alfred clutched his head with both hands. “We are not losing Vancouver. I’ll have Kelly impersonate Jasmine. She’ll take her place and keep control of Vancouver for us.”

Jessica’s lips curved into a cold smirk. “Good. If Jasmine lives, she’ll only betray us. Better she stays gone.”

At that moment, the doctor rushed in with two nurses.

They dropped to their knees beside Jasmine, working frantically. The doctor pressed his fingers to her neck, his expression draining of all color.

He looked up, his face grave.

The old servant’s voice cracked, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. “Doctor… is she dead?”

“I need to check thoroughly,” the doctor said firmly, pulling equipment from his case with steady, practiced hands.

He flicked on a small penlight and pulled open Jasmine’s eyelids.

The beam cut across her pupils. If there was life, her eyes would react. If not, the darkness would remain.

The light reflected off glassy eyes. The doctor’s breath caught. He snapped into action, his voice sharp, commanding.

“She’s alive but not breathing. Possible high cervical spinal cord injury—C1 to C3. That would paralyze her diaphragm and stop her breathing. Prepare bag-valve-mask ventilation. Now!”

The nurses scrambled, snatching up the equipment. One fitted the mask over Jasmine’s face while the other began pumping oxygen into her lungs.

“How long has she been like this?” the doctor barked, his voice laced with panic.

“If it’s been more than six minutes, brain death may already have set in. Irreversible damage—permanent!”

Alfred and Jessica locked eyes, both lost in the weight of the moment. Neither spoke.

“Five… maybe six minutes,” the old servant stammered, voice trembling.

“Then start praying we can still save her,” Doctor Harris snapped, already working fast.

The nurses kept pumping oxygen into Jasmine’s lungs, their hands moving in rhythm. A neck brace was fitted. A head immobilizer clamped down to keep her spine steady.

“We need to get her to a hospital now,” Harris said firmly. “We don’t have enough equipment here.”

“No.” Alfred’s voice cut through like steel.

“Sir,” Harris pressed, his tone rising with urgency, “Jasmine’s neck is broken. If she survives, she may already be paralyzed from the neck down. She needs a ventilator—machines to keep her alive. She’s in critical condition. We have only a small window to act.”

Jessica leaned in. “Doctor Harris, we’ve trusted you for decades as our family doctor. This house has everything we need. Just do your best here.”

“My best?” Harris snapped, his patience thinning.

“My best requires Los Angeles Prime. They have full trauma facilities, the equipment, the staff. If we wait any longer, we may lose her completely.”

“Enough!” Alfred’s roar thundered through the room.

He slammed his fist into the wall. “I told you to treat her here. You’ll treat her here. She’s my daughter. I decide where she gets treated. Stop talking and do your damn job!”

Doctor Harris froze. He’d been with the Kingston family for forty years, through every birth, every sickness, every fracture.

He’d watched Jasmine grow from a tiny infant into the young woman lying broken before him.

Now, looking at her bruised face and the fresh mark across her cheek, the truth screamed in his mind. Something was wrong. Something dark.

The Alfred he once knew—the father who cherished his daughter—was gone.

Harris drew in a heavy breath. “Fine,” he said coldly. “Get the scoop stretcher. Move her to her room. Bring every piece of medical equipment we have.”

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify